The throne hall had never felt smaller.
Elara stood at the center, the golden aura surrounding her like a protective crown, as demon lords whispered and shifted uneasily around her. Every eye was on her—not with respect, not yet—but with expectation. Suspicion lingered in the air like smoke.
Kaelthar lingered beside her, tall and imposing, his shadows subtly sweeping along the floor, a silent warning to any who might strike. His presence was a tether, grounding her while simultaneously daring the court to test him.
A soft click echoed through the hall.
Elara's heart stuttered.
A blade shot from the shadows, slicing toward her head with lethal precision.
Kaelthar reacted instantly, shadows erupting like living tendrils to intercept the strike. The assassin's weapon shattered against them, sparks scattering across the black crystal floor.
Elara staggered back, pulse racing, golden light flaring around her instinctively.
"You have to move!" Kaelthar barked, pulling her behind him as another assassin leapt forward.
She barely had time to react. Instinct kicked in. Her hands shot forward, strands of golden light shooting like binding chains, wrapping around the attacker's limbs and pinning him midair.
The court gasped.
Even Varyx looked momentarily stunned.
Elara's gaze hardened. "If anyone else attempts this," she said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline, "they will face the same fate."
The light around her pulsed, no longer protective but commanding. Every demon in the hall felt it. Obedience, fear, awe—all mixed into a tangible pressure.
Kaelthar's hand brushed hers as he stepped closer. "You are a force," he said softly, letting her feel the warmth and weight of his presence. "Not just a queen. You are my queen."
Her cheeks flushed, but there was no time to dwell. Another assassin emerged, larger, cloaked in void shadows, likely sent by Varyx himself.
"Stay behind me," Kaelthar commanded, eyes flashing crimson.
Elara shook her head. "No. I'm ready."
The figure lunged. Elara met it midair with a surge of golden light. Chains coiled around it, binding the attacker, but this time the creature resisted. Her light strained, golden threads snapping as the void-shadow pushed back.
Kaelthar stepped forward, shadow and strength merging with hers. Together, their combined force overwhelmed the assassin, sending him crashing into the far wall with a deafening crack.
Silence fell across the hall.
Elara's chest heaved. She looked up at Kaelthar. "I… I did it," she whispered.
"You did more than survive," he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "You commanded."
Their eyes met. There was fire there—fear, adrenaline, desire, and the faintest tremor of something dangerous, intimate. Kaelthar lowered his face toward hers.
She didn't step back.
Their lips brushed—a fleeting contact, teasing, electric. Not a full kiss, but enough to ignite something unspoken between them.
The court erupted in murmurs, but Kaelthar didn't care. His focus was on her.
"You are mine," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers.
"And you are my anchor," she replied.
Even Varyx, standing at the edge of the hall, saw the undeniable truth: she was no longer just a human. She was a queen. A commander. A threat that could not be ignored.
Outside, the void pulsed in the sky—a reminder that the real war had only just begun.
And in that moment, Elara realized: she was ready.
For the court. For the Void. For Kaelthar. For everything that was coming.