Ivanova was no longer a single, unified kingdom. It had become a structure of collapsing layers, each one falling at a different pace, each one holding its own kind of fear.
The outer city had already fallen.
Not in a single moment of defeat, but through a steady erosion of resistance. Streets that once carried trade and life were now reduced to broken stone paths, scorched walls, and abandoned remnants of evacuation.
Smoke lingered even in places where fire had long been extinguished, as though the city refused to forget what had happened to it.
Beyond that ruin, the palace district had become the true battlefield.
This was where the war was now concentrated—not in chaos, but in controlled, advancing pressure.
And beyond the palace district stood the royal palace itself, still intact, still defended, but no longer distant from danger.
Everything had moved closer.
Everything was tightening.
---
