Final Volume — Chapter 2: Shadows Rising
The valley below shimmered in the early light, but the beauty of the crowd was deceiving. Lyriana could feel it—the pulse of unseen magic, creeping like smoke through the land. The council may have fallen, but their remnants were far from defeated.
Aryn moved to her side, his gaze scanning the horizon. "I can feel it too," he murmured. "They're organizing… and they know the relics awakened."
Eryon's shadows writhed at his feet. "Not just them. Something older has stirred. When the relics fully merged with you, the seals the council relied on weakened. Whatever was trapped in the void…" His voice dropped. "…it's waking now."
Lyriana's grip tightened on the Moonstone. The air seemed to hum, faint whispers brushing against her mind. She shivered, though not from cold. "So the council's downfall has invited another threat. One we may not be ready for."
Aryn placed a hand on her shoulder. "We'll face it together, like always."
She gave a faint smile, though her eyes remained serious. "Yes. But this time, I carry more than just my will. I carry all four relics. Their power… it binds me to the land, to the people, to the fate of Arvandor itself."
A distant horn echoed from the edge of the valley. Soldiers and scouts from loyal lords had arrived—but not all under her banner. Some were neutral, some wary, and others… opportunistic. Lyriana knew that loyalty could be swayed by fear or gold, and in these times, every doubt could be fatal.
Eryon's voice broke her thoughts. "Look at the clouds above the northern ridge."
Lyriana followed his gaze. There, swirling in impossible patterns, were shadows darker than night, twisting and coiling as if alive. Ancient sigils flickered within them, remnants of a magic that predated the council—and perhaps the kingdom itself.
She swallowed, steadying herself. "This is the true test. Not just the council, not just rebellion… but the ancient darkness they tried to control. And it knows me."
Aryn took her hand, gripping it firmly. "Then we'll show it why the Moonlit Queen is not to be trifled with."
Lyriana lifted her head, the relics glowing faintly beneath her skin. The first storm of her reign had arrived.
"And so," she whispered, voice steady and commanding, "the final war begins."