The moon hovered high above Nyctraeus, massive and luminous, bathing the palace in a silver glow. It was full…an auspicious night, one of fate, binding, and power. And for Therion, it felt like the noose tightening around his neck.

The gates opened at dusk.

Eleara rode in with a procession of her own guards and servants, dressed in opulent silk the shade of poisoned wine, her raven hair cascading down her back in carefully crafted waves. Her lips curved in satisfaction as she took in the ...