I stood before my son after Varah left to convene the council.
I studied him in silence—his flawless face, his white hair, the ancient mark of the Goddess etched upon his back, borne by every true heir of our house. He was perfection shaped by fate itself.
And fate had never been kind to me.
I lifted him gently and carried him toward the Great Hall, where the council awaited.
"All hail Queen Lucera," Beta Senera announced through the mind link, her voice echoing through the citadel.
"Ruler of the Moon Realm. Descendant of the White Throne. Defender and Protector of the Realm."
I entered with my son held in my jaws, my steps steady though my heart burned. The Great Hall had not known a true gathering since the Dance.
That alone told them how grave this moment was.
Varah was already there. I noticed the basket placed beside him—the same basket we used for our son. A small kindness. A necessary one.
