The mood in Verathia's palace had become oppressive, a suffocating tension that seemed to seep into every corner. The courtiers, once bustling with whispers of ambition and intrigue, now walked with hushed steps and averted gazes, as though the walls themselves might betray their fears. The once lively gatherings had grown subdued, and Alistair’s transformation into something darker was the unspoken weight that everyone felt, but no one dared to address.

Elara could sense it more than anyone. Alistair's growing obsession, his hunger for control, and his unpredictable temper made the air crackle with unease. She had survived their last confrontation in the throne room, but she knew that it was not over. Far from it. His vicious, possessive nature was no longer something she could negotiate with or evade—it was a force that sought to consume her entirely.