Chapter 87 A Battle Of Wills

• The air in the capital had a sharp, metallic taste, as if it could smell the coming storm. The streets, usually filled with life, felt empty now, the silence heavy and foreboding. It was as if the city itself knew that the end was coming—that this was the final stand.
• I walked through the darkened hallways of the royal palace, the weight of the crown I was about to claim pressing down on me even more than the bloodied path that led to it. My heart pounded, a steady beat that matched the rhythm of the boots on the marble floors. I wasn’t alone, of course. Blue and Grey flanked me, but even they felt distant now, shadows in the growing darkness. There were no words between us, no need for them. We all understood what was at stake.
• But this—*this*—wasn’t just about the throne. This was about justice. This was about my mother’s death. About everything that had been taken from me, everything that had been ripped away by the very people who now stood in my way. The King’s elite guard, his most trusted warriors, were waiting for me, poised to fight with everything they had.