At the twilight hour—when the black sun tilted on its unnatural axis and painted the land in hues of deep crimson—a voice boomed across the horizon.
It wasn't speech. It was pressure.
A heavy sound that bent the laws of the floor itself.
Then a figure appeared.
She strode forward not with speed, but with inevitability. Like a blade drawn before war.
A tall woman cloaked in obsidian ribbons and glowing silver armor, her hair long and braided with threads of starlight. Behind her trailed seven circular sigils, each spinning with cosmic gravity—each a throne core. She walked alone, but the land gave her space as though afraid to offend her.
Roselia narrowed her eyes. "I know that aura. That's—"
"The Seventh Throne," Liliana whispered. "Throne of Extinction. Her name is Lady Vaelia."
Milim tilted her head. "She looks serious."
Leon didn't move.
