The night air was heavy with the weight of something unseen.

Lyla sat on her throne of shadows, carved from the darkness itself, her hands resting on the cold arms of the seat.

The Marked Ones had been silent for hours, waiting. Watching.

They had sworn their loyalty.

They had chosen her.

But she could feel it.

The unspoken question lingering in the air like smoke.

Would she be strong enough to lead them?

Or would she fall like all those before her?

She closed her eyes, ...