POV: Queen Amethyst Walker Reynolds
The sun rose over the Whispering Pines Palace not with a roar, but with a tentative, golden hush. It was the first morning of the new era, though the air still tasted of ozone and the heavy, lingering scent of scorched stone. The crimson stain of the Blood-Moon had washed away, replaced by a sky of pale, aching blue that seemed almost too bright for a world so battered.
I stood on the balcony of the Royal Suite, my hands gripped tightly on the railing. My palms were bandaged in white linen, the skin underneath still angry and etched with the faint, silvery scars of the runes I had channeled. Below, the valley was a hive of activity. The Shadow-Legion was gone, but the physical scars of their siege remained. Toppled trees, scorched earth, and the debris
