POV: Aphrodite
Fate demands a cost.
The King calls us to the throne room before the morning has fully arrived, the sourceless light of his court doing what it always does — maintaining an ambiance that doesn't correspond to the outside world's rhythms. I've stopped trying to use the light in here to gauge the time. The King's court runs on its own clock, and the clock runs on the King, and the King has called us before his throne because last night something changed.
The prison changed.
I felt it in the hours between when I should have been sleeping and when I actually did — a deepening of the resonance I've been tracking since the King named the prison's location beneath us. My father's presence below is not static. Whatever my being here is doing to the prison's structure, my proximity to the thing I came here to free, the ley-lines that run through this court carrying Direwolf energy through them for the first time in centuries, the prison has been responding.
