Caer Nyelorith, Throne Hall of Thorns – Moonfall Hour

The obsidian hall was quiet save for the slow drip of enchanted sap from the boughs above. Aerendros stood at the top of the throne dais, arms clasped behind his back, gazing into the lake-mirror set into the floor. It was swirling again—restless.

A guard approached, hesitating at the edge of the light. “My king,” he said low, “Two humans crossed the western vale. They carry no banner, but... one claims to know your name.”

Aerendros didn’t move. “Then let him say it to my face.”

Moments later...

The humans were escorted into the hall—one tall, silver-streaked man cloaked in old velvet, the other figure cloaked in silence.

Aerendros recognized none of them. But the pull in his chest—faint, ancient—was unmistakable.

“I am Lord Solmere,” the man said. Arrogant. Too comfortable here. “I believe... your father and I had an arrangement. A pact.”

Aerendros tilted his head, unmoved. “My father is dead. Whatever foolishness he traded in is ash.”

Lord Solmere laughed. “Not quite. You see—he promised your hand in marriage. In return, I offered the stones that saved your harvest lands during the Blight.”

Aerendros narrowed his glowing eyes. “And you believe I would honor a dead man’s bargain?”

“I believe you don’t have a choice,” Solmere said. “Because she—” he gestured behind him “—was cursed to be yours. And she’s unraveling fast.”

Aerendros stepped forward—his gaze finally falling on the cloaked figure. Her head was bowed. Her breathing shallow. Her eyes unfocused, milky with fading sight. Her ears twitching as if trying to catch sounds that no longer reached her.

She didn’t even flinch when he spoke.

He froze.

Not from fear. Not from anger.

But because something ancient in his blood screamed. A thread pulled taut. His voice cracked through the air—not in command, but barely a whisper:

“...She cannot see me?”

Lord Solmere smirked. “She can’t hear either. Speech is next. She’s breaking apart, piece by piece. That’s how your father wrote the terms. If she wasn’t wed to you by the eclipse... she’d fade.”

Aerendros took a breath, slow and silent. He descended the steps, each one ringing like iron bells.

He stopped before her. Her breathing hitched. She didn’t know he was there—but she felt him. And in that moment, so did he.

“Out,” he growled to the guards. “All of you. Leave her with me.”

Lord Solmere arched a brow. “So you'll honor it, then?”

Aerendros didn’t look at him. “I’ll decide once she hears. And I’ll wait eternity if I must.”