Chapter 11 – Embers Beneath the Crown
The first rays of dawn filtered through the tall arched windows of Don's chamber, but he had not slept. The air still felt charged from Princess Athina's departure, the lingering scent of her spell lacing the room with soft jasmine and starlight. He stood by the window, fingers lightly pressed against the Flamebound Medallion resting over his chest, mind awash with her warning.
"A reckoning," he murmured.
Below, the fortress of House Adraels stirred to life. Servants moved briskly through the stone corridors, and the first horn of the morning guard change echoed across the inner keep. But the world felt different—heavier, more brittle. As though something ancient had been stirred.
A firm knock on his door shattered the silence. Don turned, voice steady. "Enter."
It was Asdrin, clad in training leathers, a fur-lined cloak thrown over one shoulder. His face was tight with urgency. "Father calls for us. News from Thornshell."
Don followed him without a word.
---
In the grand throne hall, Earl Dunnel Adraels sat at the central seat of the triple throne, his countenance stern and contemplative. To his right, Lady Lyanna observed with quiet sharpness. To his left, Countess Daela whispered something only her husband could hear.
The family stood assembled once more—Don, Asdrin, Medrin, Jassa, Quina. Caria arrived moments later with Dvrik and Leinara. Around them stood the envoys who had not yet departed. Lady Marell Aetheria, Grand Scriptor Menvin Thalos, and the Griffor delegation—Earl Varant, his brother Lord Tergus, and Lady Sylrene—all remained, curious expressions flickering across their faces as they waited[cite: .
Earl Dunnel stood, scroll in hand. "We have received word from Earl Jhesarwan Thornf," he announced. "Thornshell has survived the fall of Dornel Hailch's stronghold. But a far more dire revelation rides with the report."
He raised the parchment, voice grave. "A figure… cloaked in black, shrouded in aura that chokes the breath of men and beasts alike. The soldiers call it the Pale Wraith."
A murmur rippled through the throne hall.
Earl Varant spoke first. [cite_start]"That name has not reached our borders… yet."
"But it will," said Grand Scriptor Menvin, voice dry. "The records speak of an entity that matches this description—shadow-born, unaging, a vessel of dark magic from the Lost Reign before the Crown. A mere myth, we thought. Until now."
Earl Dunnel nodded. "Jhesarwan confirms its presence. And its alliance with Earl Ekarvel Tidor."
Lady Marell folded her arms. "Then House Tidor does not act alone. They court powers long sealed."
"They have sent an envoy to the Royal Court," said Dunnel, voice lowering. "Whether to confess, deceive, or deflect—we cannot know yet."
The envoys looked at one another, unsettled.
"Worsening the matter," he continued, "Jhesarwan also reports trouble with his trade routes. Caravans bearing spell components and healing tinctures from the southern passes have vanished. Traders report sightings of robed figures and withered fields in their wake."
"That's sabotage," Medrin growled. "Or worse."
Don stepped forward. "They are isolating Thornf. Breaking his support, economically and diplomatically."
"Correct," Lady Lyanna murmured. "This is the hand behind the sword."
Earl Dunnel looked to the envoys. "The question becomes: what shall the realm do, when one of its own now dances with a shadow we do not understand?"
Lady Marell's expression tightened. "House Aetheria values order, not omens. But we will report this."
"We'll investigate on our end," said **Earl Varant**. "If this Pale Wraith appears anywhere near the griffin coasts, we'll know."
Menvin nodded slowly. "And I will update the Archives. This thing… may be older than our kingdom."
The court adjourned with weight on every shoulder.