[Lavinia's POV—Night of Judgment—The Capital of Eloria]
The city did not know it was about to be reborn.
Lanterns still glowed softly in the streets. Music drifted from taverns. Merchants closed their shops with laughter in their voices.
And beneath that peaceful skin—the empire moved. Black cloaks swept across the city roads; this was not war.
This was surgery.
The wind tore against my cloak as my horse thundered down the stone road. Eleania clung behind me, her hood pulled low, her breathing sharp but steady.
"We are about to reach Talvan's estate," I said over the rushing air. "Cover yourself."
She nodded firmly. "Yes, Your Highness."
Torches burned along the high walls of Talvan's mansion, their light trembling as shadows moved around them—Black Knights already in position, waiting for my signal.
Ravick rode on my left, armor dark as night. Zerith on my right, eyes sharp and unreadable. Ahead of us rose the iron gates of House Talvan—tall, arrogant, and proud.
