By the time the first month ended, twenty-five kingdoms had fallen... an avalanche of crowns that shattered every record in Elaris's long and bloody history.
Kale and his women had swept the thirteen Ash had already secretly claimed; Aster's twelve shadows had swallowed their targets like smoke drinking candleflame.
All of them unranked, yes, none larger than a million kilometers, but the speed of the conquest still left the world breathless.
In the highest chamber of Voss's royal palace, Queen Sonna sat alone at a small ebony table, morning light the shade of bruised violets spilling through the arched window.
A porcelain cup steamed between her fingers, untouched.
For thirty days she had done nothing but breathe without the lotus searing through her veins—thirty days of clean sheets and quiet.
Seventeen years of forced, filthy hunger were over, yet peace still wouldn't come.
