The great hall was silent. Every step Nernia took toward the dais echoed against the cold marble, each sound laced with the weight of eyes that followed her.
Outside, the sky had gone an ominous shade of red, a storm massing on the horizon — but the real storm was inside these walls.
Kaelen stood at her side, his jaw tight, his hand brushing hers in a silent promise: I'm here.
The King's voice broke the tension.
"State your name… and your claim."
Nernia's heart pounded, but she didn't flinch. She looked up, her eyes steady. "I am not who you think I am."
Gasps rippled through the court.
Her cloak slipped from her shoulders, revealing the intricate silver crest embroidered across her tunic — the forbidden sigil of the lost royal bloodline.
"I am Nernia Valenhardt," she said, her voice clear. "The rightful heir to the Kingdom of Veylore. The blood you hunted… runs in my veins."
Kaelen's eyes darted toward her, his gaze torn between pride and fear. He had known she was important — but not this.
Whispers erupted. Nobles shifted in their seats. Some looked at her with awe, others with thinly veiled hatred.
And then — the heavy thud of armored boots sounded at the far end of the hall.
A messenger stumbled forward, out of breath. "Your Majesties — the Shadow Legion… they've breached the western gates."
Kaelen's hand tightened on his sword.
Nernia's voice was calm, but her eyes blazed.
"Then it begins."