"I sank not to drown, but to rise again crowned in darkness, anointed by tide, and chosen by something older than gods."
The heavy doors to my chambers closed with a slow, echoing thud behind me, sealing off the muffled chaos outside. The tides had come, dark and relentless, sweeping across the Fae realm just as we intended. I heard their gasps, the cries of the council, the disbelief etched in every noble face. Fools, all of them, blinded by ancient traditions, never suspecting the rot growing within.
A soft knock on the wood drew my attention. Only one soul in this realm could follow me without invitation.
"Come," I said, and the door creaked open.
Vaelor stepped in, his silver eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction. His robes were damp from the mist rolling off the cursed tides, hair slightly dishevelled, lips parted as if a thousand unspoken words fought to escape.
"We've done it," he said quietly. "They believed your performance."
