The first sign was the sky.
Not darkening.Not breaking.
Listening.
Alisha felt it the moment she stepped into the Grand Hall. The Eclipse shifted within her—not alarmed, but alert, like a blade lifted from its sheath.
Every ward in Valoria was active.
Every anchor stable.
And yet—
Something was calling back.
"Report," Alisha said calmly.
Rowan didn't waste words. "Three border cities. Same phenomenon. No shadowspawn. No corruption. Just… resonance."
"Resonance with what?" she asked.
Rowan hesitated. "With you."
The room went silent.
Alisha closed her eyes briefly.
The Shadow King was no longer pushing.
He was responding.
"He's mirroring me," she said. "Testing how far my presence alone reaches."
"That's not an attack," one of the councilors said cautiously.
"No," Alisha agreed. "It's a declaration."
As if summoned by her words, the Eclipse flared—then steadied, projecting a ripple of awareness across the realm.
And something rippled back.
At the southern spire, Caelan staggered.
The wards surged sharply, light spiraling up the stone like living veins. He braced himself, heart pounding—not in pain, but recognition.
"She's moving," he whispered.
The connection—dormant but intact—tightened.
Not pulling him away.
Pulling through him.
For the first time since the sacrifice, Caelan felt the Shadow King clearly.
Not looming.
Watching.
"You're using her," Caelan said aloud.
The wind shifted, carrying a voice like silk dragged over steel.
No, it replied. I am answering her.
The wards flared again—too bright.
Caelan dropped to one knee.
"Don't," he breathed. "Don't turn her into the battlefield."
A pause.
Then, softly:
That depends on how she chooses to stand.
The strike came at dusk.
Not from the shadows—but from the people.
In the western quarter, a crowd gathered. Not rioting. Not panicking.
Waiting.
Alisha arrived alone, stepping into torchlight and murmurs. The Eclipse remained quiet, coiled tightly beneath her control.
A man stepped forward.
"We felt you," he said simply. "When the sky answered."
Others nodded.
"You're not just protecting the realm," a woman added. "You're changing it."
Alisha met their gazes steadily. "Change doesn't mean harm."
"No," the man said. "But it does mean choice."
Behind them, the air shimmered.
A rift—not of shadow, but of reflection—opened like a mirror catching moonlight.
The Shadow King's voice echoed gently across the square.
She has made herself known, it said. Now let them decide what that means.
Alisha's heart tightened.
This was the counterstrike.
Not war.
Revelation.
"If you fear me," Alisha said clearly, "I will not force your faith."
The mirror brightened.
And if they don't? the Shadow King asked.
Alisha lifted her chin. "Then you will no longer be the only truth whispering to them."
The mirror cracked.
Not shattered.
Cracked.
The Shadow King withdrew—but not without satisfaction.
Because now—
Alisha stood not just as heir.
But as symbol.