The moon cast a silver glow over the palace of Termona, its reflection dancing across the still waters of the inner courtyard. The torches lining the hallways flickered in the wind, casting tall shadows on the carved stone walls. Deep within the royal chambers, Queen Lyra Quarterene stood before a tall window, her arms crossed, her expression heavy with contemplation. The room was silent except for the occasional creak of the old wood and the distant murmur of guards changing posts. The weight of the unknown pressed on her shoulders like an invisible cloak, heavier than any crown.
She let out a long breath, one hand brushing over the smooth fabric of her embroidered robe. Her mind replayed Ken's words from the meeting before—words that threatened to shift the very foundation of everything she believed Mezolith knew about the world. A civilization, hidden yet intelligent, possibly more advanced. How could they have missed it for so long?
