Volume 1 — Chapter 8: The Council's Hunt
The sun rose over Arvandor, but the palace felt darker than night. Rumors of the Shadowmarked intruder had spread through the corridors like wildfire. The council was in chaos, whispers of rebellion and prophecy twisting through every stone chamber.
Lyriana dressed quickly, her hands trembling, though she did her best to hide it. Aryn sat on the edge of her bed, bandages still covering his wound. The glow from his sigil had faded overnight, but the power lingered in the air around him, heavy and electric.
"They'll come for me today," he said quietly, his eyes dark with worry. "The council will interrogate anyone who helped me, and you… you will be questioned, too."
Lyriana gripped his hand. "Then we prepare. I won't let them take you without a fight."
A knock sounded at the door. Queen Seraphielle's voice followed: "Princess Lyriana, the council requests your presence immediately. Do not delay."
Every step down the marble corridors was weighted with fear and defiance. Guards stared as she passed, whispers following her like shadows. At the council chamber, Marovain waited, flanked by the High Council. His expression was stone, unreadable, but the tension radiated like heat.
"Princess," he began, voice sharp as a blade, "it has come to our attention that you have been… unusually involved with the Shadowmarked prisoner. Do you deny this?"
Lyriana lifted her chin. "I do not deny it. I have seen the truth of the prophecy, and I will not let fear guide my actions."
Gasps echoed. Some council members shifted uneasily. Others scowled.
Marovain's eyes narrowed. "Do you understand what you risk? You defy the laws of the empire. You put your crown—and your life—in jeopardy."
"I understand," Lyriana said, her voice steady despite the hammering of her heart. "But I also understand that the empire is in danger. If we do nothing, all of Arvandor will fall, and no law will save it."
A murmur ran through the chamber. Marovain's gaze softened slightly—but only for a heartbeat. "Then know this," he said, lowering his voice, "the council's hunt begins tonight. Shadowmarked or accomplice… none will escape unscathed."
Lyriana's stomach twisted. She and Aryn would need a plan. Secrets, alliances, and courage would be tested. Outside the council chamber, the wind carried the scent of moonflowers, a silent reminder of the night she had first met him.
As she left, her hand brushed her pendant, feeling the pulse of destiny. She whispered to herself: We fight together. Whatever comes, we survive—or we fall together.
The empire, the prophecy, and their forbidden love were now entangled in a dangerous game—one with no rules but survival.