The rhythmic thrum of helicopter blades filled the air, a relentless reminder of the chaos they were leaving behind. As the convoy of military choppers sliced through the sky, carrying them toward to the Lokir Estate, a heavy silence hung in the air.The exhausted dragoons were too drained to speak, each lost in their own thoughts, processing the trauma and losses of the past days.Kerrigan stared out the window, watching the dark landscape roll by beneath them. Her heart was heavy with grief, anger, and a gnawing sense of duty. The Lokir Estate had always been a place of childhood memories, of family heritage, and of untapped potential.But now, it would serve a far different purpose. It would be their fortress, their rallying point, and their shield against the looming threats – their sanctuary and a declaration.Conor sat beside her, his expression grim but resolute. Every so often, she felt his eyes on her, a silent comfort that helped steady her frayed nerves.The power they had

Kerrigan stirred first, waking to the soft morning light filtering through the heavy curtains of her old room at the Lokir Estate. She blinked, momentarily disoriented, before remembering where she was. Conor’s arm was draped protectively around her, holding her against his chest, his steady breathing warm against her neck. The events of the past days weighed heavily on her, but for this brief, quiet moment, she allowed herself to feel safe.Conor’s eyes fluttered open as she shifted slightly. He smiled sleepily, his thumb brushing gently down her arm and against her hip. “Mornin,” he whispered, his voice tinged with a mix of exhaustion and tenderness.Kerrigan turned to face him, her fingers tracing the faint scars on his cheek. He was healing well, and soon, there would be little sign of their short time in the mines.“Good morning,” she replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. It was a simple gesture, but one that spoke of shared battles, unspoken fears, and the solace

Conor woke early, the soft light of dawn filtering through the heavy curtains of Kerrigan’s room. For a moment, he simply lay there, savoring the quiet comfort of holding her close. Her breathing was slow and steady, her face relaxed in peaceful sleep.He brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin, and for a time, he allowed himself this small moment of peace.But the moment was fleeting. The weight of their situation pressed against his chest, reminding him of the responsibilities that waited beyond the safety of this room. He carefully slipped his arm from under Kerrigan and eased out of bed, trying not to disturb her.She mumbled something softly in her sleep, but did not wake, and Conor couldn’t help but smile. Even now, she was the strongest person he knew.He dressed quickly, pulling on the spare clothes that had been laid out for him—a simple shirt and trousers that were serviceable but hardly befitting the man who would soon be claiming his moth

The sun dipped low over the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the lake behind the Lokir Estate. The waters, usually calm and reflective, seemed to shimmer with the vibrant hues of orange, pink, and purple, painting a serene yet somber backdrop for the evening's ceremony. Tonight, the air was thick with unspoken grief, the weight of loss pressing heavily upon the gathered company.A small, solemn group had assembled on the expansive lawn that stretched to the lake’s edge. The dragoons stood in formation, their faces etched with the silent sorrow that came from losing one of their own. The soldiers of Targu’s provincial army, stationed at a respectful distance, stood at attention, their rigid posture a testament to their respect for the fallen. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath, allowing only the soft rustling of leaves to break the stillness.At the center of the gathering, a simple wooden stand held a single framed photo of Gabriella. There were no remains to bury, no b

Conor stood at the podium, feeling the weight of his mother’s legacy settle on his shoulders.The room buzzed with anticipation, reporters and journalists filling every available space, cameras clicking and lights flashed as they jostled for the best angle, eager to capture the moment.Each was ready to capture every word, every expression, knowing this would be a moment the whole kingdom would want to know about.It had been over a decade since any news had come from Lokir estate and it promised to be world shattering.Conor took a deep breath, slow and deliberate, remembering Aileana’s advice: intentional speech, steady breath, command your voice.Conor exhaled slowly, grounding himself as he began to speak. “Good morning, and thank you all for being here today,” Conor started, his voice calm steady and resonant, carrying the weight of his conviction.“I am Conor Brantley, son of Priestess Rainna, and the current CEO of Vokrizin. Today, I stand before you not just as her son but as