As Queen Virelya retreats into divine withdrawal, the court stirs with uneaseâand ambition. Calyndra, Queen Mother, ascends to regency draped in silk and sharpened with old hunger. But power borrowed is never power tamed.
In the shadowed halls of Ironstone, Zevir walks the razorâs edge between duty and doubt. Old ghosts return with folded messages and blood-stained memories. Aurel watches. The guild waits. And Virelya, ever the strategist, places her mother at the center of the boardânot to honor her, but to test her.
Meanwhile, the council reels from the shift in rule. Whispers turn sharp. Smiles tighten. And in the gilded parlor, the Queen Regent makes her playâcharming, circling, and sinking teeth where no one dares expect.
But the court is not the only place where games are played.
The mountains stir. Shadows lengthen. And as the kingdom grits its teeth around a new monarch, it forgets one thing:
Some crowns bite back
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