[Thalryn Empire — House Veyrhold — The Next Morning]
Snow-covered mountains stretched endlessly beyond the windows of House Veyrhold. The morning winds howled through the cliffs, and inside the duke's study, silence ruled.
Duke Aren sat behind his desk; another black imperial letter from Zahryssar rested nearby, unopened and ignored because lately every letter carried the same threat, the same demand, and the same arrogance.
Surrender yourself. Return my consort. Obey the Malik.
CRACK.
The wooden armrest groaned beneath Aren's grip because...days. Too many days had passed. His son remained missing. Zeramet remained missing, and Slyvarakh grew bolder with every letter.
Then suddenly—
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
The study doors opened, and immediately a familiar, peeking woman strolled inside smiling bright and completely ignoring the tension filling the room.
Zyvera. The thief queen and the most troublesome ally Duke Aren had ever encountered. "Hello...!!"
