The wind returned first.
Not violent.
Not raging.
Just enough to stir the still air of the plateau as the sigil beneath Ethan's feet slowly dimmed.
Three territories.
Victory confirmed.
And before him—
Valyra.
Golden wings half-spread, molten eyes unwavering.
She had not fully knelt yet.
But she had lowered herself enough that the gesture could no longer be mistaken.
Lyssara stood at Ethan's right.
Kaelith at his left.
Neither interfered.
Neither spoke.
This was not their moment.
This was his.
Valyra's voice carried steady heat.
"I do not repeat myself."
Her gaze did not waver.
"I challenged you."
"I lost."
She lowered further.
One knee touched the stone.
The contact made the ground hiss faintly as heat met sovereign-bound earth.
The sky above shifted subtly.
Far away—
Other thrones felt it.
A flame sovereign bending.
Not crushed.
Not conquered by force.
But defeated openly.
Valyra bowed her head.
"By the terms of our challenge…"
