The court was empty now.
Broken pillars. Burned marble. Silence so heavy it pressed against the chest.
Myreiya stood alone in the throne room, staring at the sigil Velyr had burned into the floor. It pulsed faintly—alive.
Mirror stood behind her, quiet.
"He escaped," she said. Not angry. Not loud. Just tired.
"For now," Mirror replied.
She turned slightly. "He knew my routines. My guards. My fears."
Mirror didn't answer.
Because at that moment—he felt it.
A sharp burn on his chest.
He staggered back, breath catching.
Myreiya turned. "Mirror?"
He pulled his shirt aside.
On his skin—the same sigil that marked the floor.
Still glowing.
Still spreading.
Her eyes widened.
"What… is that?"
Mirror looked down, calm breaking for the first time.
"I don't know," he said slowly.
Outside the palace, far beyond the walls, a shadow stood on a cliff.
Lord Velyr smiled.
"Checkmate… Your Majesty."