The corridor was almost too quiet as they stretched endlessly.
Only the sound of my heels against marble filled the air... steady, echoing, too loud for how fragile I suddenly felt. The ballroom's din had faded behind me.
Above, through the high windows, lightning crackled across the sky. The aftermath of Pyrosanct still clung to the air... smoke, celebration, the faint hum of magic settling back into the stones.
Fitting, I thought. The kingdom celebrating its rebirth while I walked toward my ending.
My guards trailed several steps back, respectful, silent. Perhaps they could feel it too, that something monumental had just ended.
I had done it.
After years of clutching that crown like a dying thing, I had let it go.
Stepped down.
Freed myself.
Freed him.
Released the people who cursed my name every morning and prayed to it every night.
Caelen had his kingdom.
Ophelia had her crown.
And I... well, I had my emptiness.
It was supposed to feel liberating.
