Silence lingered in the throne hall. Not the silence of uncertainty or hesitation, the silence that follows a blade being drawn. Clean. Inevitable.
Then Isolde's expression shifted.
Not political. Not strategic. Personal.
"There is something else," she said.
Duke's gaze sharpened immediately. Bruce turned fully toward her, reading the subtle change in her posture. This was no longer about infiltration across kingdoms. This was closer.
"My possession did not occur randomly," Isolde continued. "It began years ago. Before the Guild suppression. Before the isolation policies."
She descended from her throne once more. Frost trailed faintly behind her boots, but it did not surge. It followed her like a memory.
"There was an anomaly. Near the northern border." Her voice steadied into the cadence of a report, though the weight beneath it was anything but clinical. "A Labyrinth that spawned under unusual circumstances."
Duke frowned. "Unusual how?"
