AYLA'S POV
My boots press into the ash-strewn dais; the air tastes of copper and storm-burnt bone. The hall lies still, held in the hush between rage and reverence. A new dawn once promised power—now it promises reckoning.
Kael stands behind me, broad and silent, his sword still drawn. The priests and emissaries form jagged lines around us, faces tight with fear or false allegiance. The Herald is no longer present—but her absence screams guilt.
The priestess begins again, voice abrupt as winter wind:
"Your oath, Luna Ayla—will you uphold it?"
I glance at Kael, whose eyes hold fierceness tempered by devotion. I feel the First Luna within me, electric and fierce. I take a breath that settles the roar of my heart.
"My vow is sealed in my blood, and no law can sever it," I say. "But rulership demands truth. And truth demands we speak openly."
