Chapter 90 Victory And Mourning

• The throne room was eerily quiet. For a moment, I stood there in the silence, my fingers brushing the cold stone of the chair that had once been my father’s. It was heavy, too heavy, as though it carried the weight of every decision made in this room over the centuries, all the bloodshed, the betrayals, the promises broken.
• And yet, here I was—sitting in it. Not just as the daughter of the man who once ruled, but as the woman who had fought for this moment, fought to claim it as my own. It felt like a dream and a nightmare all at once, the reality of it settling slowly, unwillingly, in my bones.
• The victory should’ve felt sweeter. The people cheered, and the walls echoed with cries of triumph, but my heart was heavier than ever.