The Queen's council chamber was silent except for the slow drip of wax from the candles. Twelve figures knelt before her, cloaked in white and silver—the Purity Council, fanatics sworn to preserve "human order" in a world that was no longer purely human. Their leader, Grand Inquisitor Emon Serath, rose when she beckoned. His face was skeletal, sharp as carved marble, and his pale eyes gleamed like polished bone.
"Your Majesty," he said softly. "We received Lysander's final transmission. His words confirm what I feared. The Duchess of Pentecase is no longer stable."
Queen Lirienne leaned back against her throne. "Stable?" she repeated. "No, Emon. She is powerful. Too powerful. She has defied natural law itself."
"Then we proceed?"
"Yes," she said. "We proceed."
