The sky above the domain was cloaked in thick, unmoving clouds, casting the entire realm in a perpetual dusk. The shadows stretched far across the halls of obsidian stone as a stillness heavier than silence settled over the fortress.
Richmond stood on the balcony of the inner chamber, arms folded, eyes narrowed at the flickers of dying sun bleeding faintly through the gloom. It had been hours since his brother, Rohzivaan, had summoned their mother, Fiorensia, to speak in private.
But even now, after the doors had opened again and their mother had emerged with a face carved in unshakable calm, Richmond's mind refused to accept what he had heard. Rohzivaan wanted his bond severed. He wanted the sacred connection between him and his fated mate, Ahcehera, broken, shattered as if it were nothing more than glass beneath a boot.
