Volume 2 — Chapter 1: Shadows of the Throne
The dawn over Arvandor was unlike any the empire had ever seen. The silver light of the moon lingered even as the sun rose, a lingering echo of the magic unleashed in the forest. Lyriana stood at the palace balcony, her hair tousled and eyes still reflecting the glow of Aryn's sigil.
"The prophecy has awakened," she whispered, her voice heavy with both awe and dread. "And now… everyone will come for us."
Aryn stepped beside her, cloak damp from the forest mist, eyes scanning the horizon. "They will. The council cannot ignore what we've done. But the people… some will see us as saviors. Others… as threats to the empire."
Lyriana's hand brushed the pendant at her neck, a faint pulse echoing the power now awakening within her. "We've changed everything," she said softly. "And yet… I feel like the danger has only begun."
From the shadowed corridor behind them, a messenger approached, bowing quickly. "Princess Lyriana… Shadowmarked Aryn… scouts report movement near the western borders. Armed forces… not of Arvandor, but something else. Something… unnatural."
Aryn's eyes narrowed. "We've awakened more than the prophecy. Something in the wilds has stirred—ancient powers tied to the throne and the forest itself."
Lyriana turned to him, determination hardening her gaze. "Then we prepare. No one will stand in our way. Not the council, not the hunters, not whatever this… force is. Together, we face it all."
He reached for her hand, their fingers intertwining. "Together," he repeated, the word carrying weight, promise, and danger.
As the palace stirred with whispers of fear and awe, the first shadow of war and magic loomed on the horizon. And in the quiet before the storm, Lyriana and Aryn realized that the empire, the prophecy, and their forbidden love would be tested like never before.
The fight for Arvandor—and their hearts—had only just begun.