The Magic of Arkonia

The city still smoldered from the attack, though the fires had been contained. The scent of burnt wood and steel lingered in the air as people hurried to rebuild what they could. Word had spread like wildfire—whispers of betrayal, of unseen enemies lurking in the dark.

Vaelen stood on the balcony of the city stronghold, his golden eyes scanning the horizon. His usual sharp demeanor was dulled by exhaustion. "It doesn't add up," he muttered, running a hand through his white hair. "Why would they attack now?"

"Someone wanted to send a message," Liora said, adjusting her leather gloves. "And they wanted us to be the first to hear it."

Raviel leaned against the stone wall, his arms crossed. "The Queen hasn't spoken yet. That alone tells us how deep this goes." His sharp gaze flickered toward the palace in the distance.

Veyra, who had been silent until now, exhaled and stepped forward. "We can't waste time. If we sit still, we're playing into their hands."

Liora glanced at her. "And what exactly do you propose?"

Veyra hesitated. She had spent years surviving in the wilderness, but this—political schemes, hidden threats—this was different. Still, she had learned one thing from those years: hesitation got people killed.

"Find the source of the attack. Track them before they strike again," she said firmly.

"That's easier said than done," Raviel muttered. "We don't even know who's pulling the strings."

Vaelen sighed. "We have a lead." He gestured to a bloodstained piece of cloth on the table. "One of the attackers carried this insignia. It belongs to a faction long thought to be extinct—the Crimson Vow."

Liora's expression darkened. "They were wiped out years ago. If they've resurfaced…" She trailed off, her fingers tightening around the edge of the table.

"Then someone brought them back," Veyra finished. "And we need to find out who."

As the conversation continued, Veyra could feel a presence—watchful, lingering. She turned her head slightly, eyes narrowing at the distant rooftops. She knew who it was.

Revyn.

He was keeping his distance, but she could sense him. It wasn't just instinct; it was something deeper, something unspoken between them.

But why was he hiding?

Before she could dwell on it, a scout burst into the room, breathless. "A messenger arrived from the palace. The Queen summons you."

The room fell into silence.

"About time," Raviel muttered.

Vaelen stood, straightening his cloak. "Let's go."

As they walked through the city streets, the tension was almost suffocating. Whispers followed them—people wondering if the heirs could be trusted, if the Queen was losing control.

And through it all, Veyra's mind kept drifting back to Revyn.

He was watching.

But was he waiting for something? Or was he trying to decide where he stood?

One thing was certain—answers were coming. And none of them would like what they found