"THE FIRSTBORN HAS RETURNED. THE MOTHER MUST NOW CHOOSE WHICH CHILD SHALL LIVE."
The words echoed through the underground kingdom.
Once.
Twice.
Then a third time, until even the stones seemed to tremble beneath their weight.
Aliena stood frozen before the Eighth Throne.
On her left stood Lyra, her little daughter with golden curls and frightened red eyes. The crooked silver crown on her head had begun to crack, and every time the girl trembled, another thin line appeared across its surface.
On Aliena's right stood the mysterious boy.
Black hair.
Red eyes.
A silver mark across his forehead.
He looked approximately eight years old, perhaps nine, but the darkness surrounding him felt older than every kingdom Aliena had ever known.
He had called her Mother.
He had called Lyra his sister.
And he had accused them of leaving him to die.
Aliena wanted to reach for him.
