The council hall was filled with low murmurs and the rustle of robes as the king's advisors gathered once again. The air felt heavy, almost thick with the scent of tension and melted candle wax.
King Alaric sat at the head of the table, his gaze fixed on the parchment before him, but his thoughts were far away.
"Your Majesty," one of the councilors began, "House Veylor still awaits your answer. The alliance could strengthen our borders and give us the upper hand against the witch and her sorcerer."
Another voice followed, firmer this time. "A betrothal, Your Grace. It would unite both houses, ensuring the kingdom's survival."
Alaric sighed quietly. "I will not make such a decision lightly. My daughter's happiness is not something to gamble with."
The council exchanged uneasy glances, whispering among themselves. The flames flickered strangely, shadows crawling along the stone walls.
And then—unseen by all—a faint whisper coiled into the king's mind. It was soft, almost soothing, yet its edge was sharp as a blade.
"Happiness?" the voice purred. "You speak of happiness while danger walks freely beside your daughter."
Alaric's head lifted slightly, his brows furrowing.
"The guard," the voice continued, dripping venom. "The one they call Lorin. You made him her protector, yet he guards more than her life now, doesn't he? Look closer, Alaric. She smiles too easily when he's near."
The king's heartbeat quickened. His fingers clenched on the table.
"He has overstepped," the whisper pressed. "A commoner reaching for your throne through her heart. And you—so blind to it. Do what must be done before love clouds her judgment and ruins your bloodline."
The councilors' voices began to rise again, speaking of duty, alliances, and royal vows, but Alaric barely heard them. The whisper still lingered, thick in his thoughts, twisting everything it touched.
When he finally spoke, his voice carried a chilling finality. "You are right," he said. "The alliance will be sealed. The princess shall be betrothed to House Veylor. And her guard… will be reassigned."
The council looked at each other in shock for a while then they bowed in agreement, hiding their triumph.
Far away, through the crystal orb, the witch smiled—her eyes gleaming with cruel delight. "Ah, now the venom will spread in the king's mind," she whispered, tracing her fingers across the swirling mist inside the orb. "Let this love shatter before it blooms."
But her grin faltered as the orb trembled suddenly. The glow within it flared, bright and wild, and a sharp crack split the silence.
The witch stumbled back, eyes narrowing. "No…" she hissed. "It's warning them."
In that same moment, deep in Rynvale, Seraphina's amulet began to glow—a soft, fierce light spreading from her chest like a heartbeat. She gasped, her hand flying to touch it.
"Lorin," she whispered. "Something's wrong."
He turned quickly, seeing the golden light pulsing brighter, faster. A strange weight filled the air, heavy with unease.
"I feel it too," he said, eyes narrowing. "Something isn't right."
Kael looked toward the road that led back to the palace. "We have to go. Now."
And without another word, the three of them set off toward the kingdom—unaware to the newly formed lovers that fate had already begun to turn against them.