Amelia blinked.
"Then why are they here?"
Lara didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she walked toward the window overlooking the southern sector of the island where the Kromwel Mausoleum stood beneath the glaring sunlight.
From afar, the restored structure looked magnificent—ancient black stone pillars rising like silent guardians against the jagged cliffs, while enormous banners bearing the crest of House Kromwel billowed violently beneath the wind.
Sunlight struck the dark stone in sharp angles, giving the mausoleum an almost divine presence, as though an ancient kingdom had momentarily resurfaced from the grave.
Philip Hardy truly had a talent for spectacle.
Every detail had been carefully orchestrated to inspire awe—the towering braziers, the ceremonial pathways, even the positioning of the guards around the ruins. He didn't merely restore history.
He turned it into theater.
Yet despite the beauty of it, a strange unease settled deep inside her chest.
