|| Lilac’s POV ||

The invitation lay heavy in my hands, its silver-edged parchment catching the afternoon light. I traced the embossed Nightshade crest, that familiar twisting vine encircling a crescent moon, feeling the weight of centuries in its design.

"To honor the new era," it proclaimed in Alaric's bold script.

I knew what he wasn't saying.

This wasn't just a celebration. It was a trap dressed in silk and champagne.

The fire crackled as I studied the ...