She wakes inside me like a blade unsheathed.
Not slowly.
Not gently.
But with force.
The Queen of Silence does not ask for the body,
She wears it like armor.
My bones crack in subtle shifts.
My heartbeat slows.
Not weak calculated.
The glow in my veins deepens to blue.
Magic no longer whispers from me.
It commands.
The palace feels the change first.
The enchanted wards recoil.
The stone arches bend ever so slightly.
The servants lower their heads not out of reverence.
But fear.
They don't know what's happened.
They only know she's awake.
Vireon stands at the foot of the throne.
Eyes narrow.
Lips parted.
A trace of awe.
"You're not her," he says.
"I am her," she replies. "The part you loved before she learned mercy."
She walks past him without pause.
He doesn't stop her.
He remembers her.
She summons her war council.
They hesitate. Murmur. Glance around.
One dares to speak.
"My queen… where is Lady Elóranth?"
Her gaze slices through him.
"You'll address me as what I am."
"The Queen. Of. Silence."
"But"
He doesn't finish the sentence.
She doesn't lift a hand.
The air crushes his lungs until he collapses, gasping.
"Anyone else confused?" she asks, smiling.
No one speaks.
Good.
Later, alone, she conjures a map of ancient bloodlines and forbidden magic.
Eristra is moving faster than expected.
The pact with Caelen has given her form.
But not soul.
That's what she's hunting.
And the only soul strong enough to anchor Eristra…
Was once nearly offered by Vireon.
He finds her that night.
Still wearing her crown.
Still glowing with dangerous power.
"If you don't return the body soon," he warns,
"Elóranth may not recover."
"Then teach her to fight me," the Queen replies.
"Or stand beside me again."
He hesitates.
Just for a breath.
And in that breath
She sees the past stir behind his eyes.
And smiles.