Chapter 39 — The Weight of What Must Be Done
The first blood was spilled before anyone realized a war had begun.
It was not a battlefield death, nor a grand clash beneath banners and spells. It was a knife in the dark, slipped between ribs in a quiet alleyway in the city of Lornfall a city that had sworn loyalty to the Assembly only weeks before.
The victim was a magistrate. Known for moderation. For compromise.
By dawn, pamphlets littered the streets bearing the sigil of the True Crown.
Order demands sacrifice.
When the report reached Blackspire, Elowen felt something inside her go very still.
"This was not Alaric's command," Ryn said, voice tight. "Our informants are certain."
Kael stood at the window, arms crossed, staring out at the storm clouds gathering over the mountains. "That may be true."
Elowen looked up at him. "But it's his responsibility."
"Yes," Kael agreed. "That is the danger of belief unmoored from restraint."
