A few days flew by in Elaris.
Kingdoms clashed, bets were paid in blood or gold, and borders changed in the blink of an eye.
Ash returned to Velora with Seris and her, determined to fix every problem, but the Lyrion Kingdom survived only because he chose to let someone else take the hits this time.
It was a bit contradictory to his earlier thoughts... but that was who he was at his core—lustful and full of contradictions.
He dismissed everyone for three full days.
While the palace hummed with new life, he shut himself away in the war-room.
A crimson cloak draped over the back of his throne, his golden-pink eyes catching the swirl of ten thousand holographic names—each one a seed he'd chosen for greatness. They would be the first to step onto the road he was building… but even seeds needed hands to plant them.
Seris commanded the armies.
Thalion moved supplies and futures like chess pieces.
What Ash needed now were blades forged for his own grip.
