The morning sun filtered through the grand arched windows of the Thorne estate, casting long, mocking shadows across the marble floors. Kaelen Thorne marched down the corridor toward the guest wing, his jaw set in a hard, uncompromising line.

He had barely slept. The image of Elara at the Gala—sta

The floorboards of the childhood cottage were incredibly cold, but Elara no longer minded. In fact, she welcomed it. The biting chill seeping through the wood was the only physical sensation left to her, a stark contrast to the absolute, terrifying numbness spreading outward from her chest.

She la

The High Council chambers were a cavern of polished obsidian and gold, designed to intimidate the guilty and elevate the righteous. Today, the massive room felt like a tomb.

Mage Lord Kaelen Thorne stood at the center of the circular dias, his posture rigid, his face an ashen mask of pure shock. H