Rain still whispered over the palace roofs as Selene walked through the dimly lit corridors of Aetherion's keep. Each step echoed faintly, the sound hollow against the marble, like footsteps fading down the corridors of memory. The storm had finally broken, but the air remained heavy, saturated with the scent of iron, smoke, and loss.
She kept her head high as she passed the royal guards — their eyes darting away respectfully, yet she could feel their unease. The rumors had already started to spread, carried like sparks through dry grass. The King and the Commander. Love whispered beneath duty. Scandal hidden under loyalty.
She didn't care. She had weathered worse than whispers.
When she reached the outer courtyard, the sky cracked open to the dying light of dawn. The world beyond the palace was soaked — banners torn, cobblestones glistening, and the faint hum of soldiers rebuilding campfires. The city had survived, but barely. And so had she.
