الصوت المشترك

The moonlight spilled through the high windows of the Monarch's Citadel, casting long shadows across the obsidian floors. Prince Janos moved through the familiar corridors with practiced silence, his footsteps barely disturbing the midnight air. The castle where he had grown up—where he had learned…

The moonlight spilled through the high windows of the Monarch's Citadel, casting long shadows across the obsidian floors. Prince Janos moved through the familiar corridors with practiced silence, his footsteps barely disturbing the midnight air. The castle where he had grown up—where he had learned to fight, to command, to rule—now felt like a monument to his father's betrayal. Every tapestry depicting the lineage of Monarchs, every statue of his ancestors in their magnificent Apex forms, seeme