The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a deep amber glow across the palace of Verathia. The air inside was heavy with unspoken tension, an almost tangible presence that followed Alistair wherever he went. His guards, his council, even his family had begun to tread carefully around him, aware of the storm brewing beneath his calm exterior. Only Elara seemed oblivious, her gentle demeanor a stark contrast to the tempest of Alistair's mind.
Elara had been spending more time in the palace gardens, seeking solace among the flowers. To her, it was an escape from the pressures of court life, a way to hold on to the simplicity she cherished. But to Alistair, her wandering felt like a threat—an invitation for danger to creep in unnoticed.
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