I left Luna sprawled across the mountain of crushed velvet-kelp, her silver form already rising and falling in a deep, slumber. The moment the doors sealed, the genuine warmth that had settled in my chest evaporated entirely, replaced by the cold, surgical precision of a predator stepping onto a battlefield.
I rolled my shoulders, intentionally slumping my posture a fraction of an inch to shed the commanding, arrogant authority I usually carried. The sweeping corridors of the Sunken Throne stretched out before me, an impossibly vast labyrinth of polished dark crystal and glowing pearl.
I walked alone. Every footstep echoed against the pristine architecture, a rhythmic reminder of the sheer, millennial isolation Krave had built for herself.
