The heart of the Obsidian Keep was not made of stone, but of a silence so deep it felt like underwater pressure. Azryth led Iris down a spiraling staircase of translucent glass toward a chamber that seemed to exist outside of time.
In the center of the room, suspended by invisible chains of gravity, floated the Eclipsereaver. It was a massive, jagged purple gem, its core swirling with a violent, beautiful black energy that pulsed like a dying star.
"For two centuries, the Keep has been a hollow shell," Azryth's voice echoed, his shadow flickering against the walls. "The stone has waited for the blood that could withstand its weight. It has waited for the Heir of the Void."
Iris stepped toward the gem. Her midnight-black hair billowed as the Eclipsereaver began to react to her proximity, the purple facets glowing with an intensity that matched her eyes.
She did not hesitate. She reached out and pressed her palm against the freezing, vibrating surface of the stone.
The air did not just shift; it shattered. A roar of ancient magic surged through her arm, a torrent of purple and black energy that sought to claim her marrow.
Iris's eyes flared a brilliant, electric violet as the transfer began. The energy danced along her fingertips, weaving into her very DNA, claiming her as the true Sovereign of the Shadows.
"I am the Keep," she whispered, her voice echoing with a power that wasn't entirely human. "And the Keep is mine."
The moment of transcendence was interrupted by a ripple in the shadows. A smaller wraith materialized near the doorway, its form bowing low before the newly awakened Queen.
___
"Mistress," the shadow hissed. "A carriage bearing the crest of the Emberclaw has reached the outer perimeter. The Crown Prince demands an audience at the gate."
Iris did not even turn around. She looked at the Eclipsereaver, feeling the energy settle into a calm, predatory hum within her veins.
"He is early," Iris remarked, a cold, amused smile touching her lips. "He was always impatient when he felt his authority was being questioned."
She turned to Azryth. "I will not see him. Not yet. Go to the gates, Azryth. Remind him that he is no longer in a world where his titles hold weight."
At the massive iron gates of the Keep, Draven stood beside his carriage, his dark brown hair wind-blown and his face tight with a mix of fury and awe. The atmosphere here was suffocating, a direct insult to his royal dignity.
The shadows suddenly coiled, and Azryth materialized before him. The Leader of the Shadows did not bow; he stood like a monolith of smoke, blocking the path with effortless arrogance.
"Where is she?" Draven demanded, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. "Tell Iris—tell Regina—that the Crown Prince is here to speak with her."
Azryth's voice was like the grinding of tectonic plates. "The Mistress does not grant audiences to every traveler who knocks. I will hear your matter first. I will decide if it is worthy of her attention."
Draven's eyes flashed with a dangerous heat. "I am the future King! You are a servant of shadows. Stand aside or—"
"You are a man of flesh in a kingdom of ghosts," Azryth interrupted coldly. "Your titles are dust here. State your business, or leave the woods before the ravens find you."
Draven forced himself to swallow his pride, the humiliation tasting like copper. "The King, Maltherion Emberclaw, formally invites Regina to the Imperial Court. He proposes an alliance between our houses."
A long silence followed. Azryth stood perfectly still, his head tilted as if listening to a frequency Draven could not hear. Inside the Keep, through the tether of their shared blood and magic, Iris watched the scene through Azryth's eyes.
Let him wait, she thought, the command rippling through the connection. Then, tell him I accept. I wish to see the look on his face when I walk through his doors as an equal.
Azryth straightened. "The Mistress has heard your proposal. She accepts. She will arrive at the capital when the moon is full."
Draven started, his gaze darting around the empty air. "How? You didn't even move. How did she—"
"The Mistress is everywhere in this Keep, Prince Draven," Azryth said, his form beginning to dissolve back into the mist. "She has seen you. And she finds you... unremarkable."
Before Draven could respond, the shadows surged forward, pushing the carriage back toward the forest path with an invisible, irresistible force. He was left staring at the closing gates, his heart thundering with a rage that was rapidly turning into a terrifying, obsessive curiosity.