The faint roll of thunder echoed beyond the stained-glass windows, as though the heavens themselves waited to hear what would be said within those walls.
Valerian sat upon the Storm Throne, his gaze distant, the seer's words still haunting the edges of his thoughts.
"You will not return as you left, my king. You will return a different man...and your son shall stand at the center of it."
He exhaled slowly and ran a hand through his hair. "Different," he murmured under his breath. "And for what cause, I wonder?"
He straightened in his seat and turned toward the guards stationed by the doors.
"Send for the High Seer, Serath Veyne," he ordered. "I would speak with him at once."
The guards bowed and strode out swiftly.
Moments after they departed, the doors burst open again—this time without announcement.
The Dowager Queen swept into the throne room, her presence sharp as lightning itself. Her silver hair gleamed beneath the torches, her eyes fierce with indignation.
