Chapter 8 - Whispers of War
Back in the capital, the rebuilding of trust within the royal court took longer than the mending of stone. Spring had finally chased away the winter frost, painting the cathedral gardens in vibrant shades of white and gold.
Queen Helena walked arm-in-arm with King Aldric through the grand courtyard, watching as Elara practiced archery with the royal guard. The legendary bird—now known throughout the kingdom as the Astraea, the mythical guardian of truth—soared high above the spires, its wings catching the morning sun.
"The border patrols have sent a disturbing missive, Your Majesty," Captain Vane said, hurrying across the cobblestones and bowing low before the king and queen.
Aldric’s brow furrowed. "Speak, Vane."
"General Vorn has broken his exile in the northern wastes," Vane reported grimly, unfurling a parchment stamped with a crude, blood-red seal. "He has united the rogue clans under a single banner. And intelligence from our scouts indicates he is not alone. He is being advised by a woman wrapped in gray rags who knows every structural weakness in our outer defenses."
Helena’s heart dropped. "Selene."
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"She has traded our family name for a barbarian's sword," Aldric said, his fists clenching at his sides. "She marches on Aurelion."
"Let her come," Elara’s voice rang out as she approached them, laying aside her bow. Her eyes flashed with the same amber light that had broken her stone prison. "She wanted a kingdom built on strength. She will find out what true strength looks like."
