Aurora stepped across the threshold of the dark mage towers, each footfall a muted drumbeat in the empty halls. The air smelled of cold iron and ash, faintly sweet, like blood left too long to cure.
Shadows pooled in the corners, but she knew their absence of movement was no comfort. She had walked these corridors once, long before, as a pupil of the dark arts, learning from the greatest demon mages who bent fire and flesh alike to their will.
Now, silence greeted her—a kingdom of ghosts, the towers emptied of life except for one presence.
Ahead, in the highest chamber, she saw her. The heir. A young woman, regal even in her youth, standing atop the steps of the throne hall. Her skin was paler than any mortal's, almost luminous in the muted torchlight, like moonlight trapped beneath ice.
