Unknown’s POV

Somewhere in the Kingdom of Lunaria

The messenger returned at dawn.

Not riding, not walking, not delivering his message with the proper protocols and formal bows. He returned in pieces, delivered in a wooden crate that smelled of blood and preservatives, his body arranged in a pose that was unmistakably deliberate—kneeling, hands clasped as if in supplication, his severed head placed atop the pile like a grotesque crown.

Cyrus stared at the crate for a long, silent moment. ...