Elara stood alone in the center of the palace garden, her breath shallow and uneven. The echo of Alistair's footsteps lingered in the air like the fading pulse of a thunderstorm. He had left, but the weight of his words, his presence, still crushed her chest. He had always been a constant shadow, but now, it felt like he was closing in on her, his influence creeping into every corner of her life. She felt suffocated, trapped in a web of obsession she had no way of escaping.
The wind rustled the leaves of the trees around her, but it couldn't erase the lingering heaviness in her heart. For weeks, she had lived in fear of this moment—of Alistair cornering her, of his grip tightening around her, squeezing the life out of her until she had no choice but to submit. She had fought against it, resisted with everything in her, but the power he wielded over her, over her world, was undeniable.
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