Seeing Elara standing there—alive, unscathed, and surrounded by every single member of her administrative council—the nobles could only manage one shared expression.
Paleness.
Not the polite kind that came with courtly restraint, but the kind that drained the very warmth from their skin, leaving behind nothing but disbelief and a creeping, suffocating dread.
Because in their minds… she was already gone.
When the news of her disappearance had spread across the empire, it had not been spoken aloud—but it had been accepted. Some believed she had died somewhere beyond the empire's reach, her body lost to time and distance. Others believed she had simply chosen not to return, that she had abandoned the throne willingly, uninterested in power, uninterested in the suffocating weight of the crown.
Many had even felt relieved.
Because a missing heir was easier to replace than a living one.
But now—
Now she stood before them.
Not weakened.
Not broken.
And certainly not forgotten.
