The Court of Eternal Shadows

Prologue — The Night the Sky Burned

The northern wind tasted of frost and scorched magic. Perched on the dizzying heights of the Obsidian Citadel, Lyra tightened the leather straps of her gauntlets. Three hundred feet below, the violet mists of the Shadow Valley churned like an angry sea.

They said Rowan Nightshade never slept. That his eyes held the color of cold steel before the executioner's strike. That his shadows could snap a man's neck before he could even draw a breath. But to Lyra, he was merely an obstacle.

She slipped through the stained glass dome without making a sound, a phantom in the night.

Then she felt it. A faint shift in the air. A presence so cold and yet so electric that every hair on her skin stood at attention.

'You move quietly for an assassin,' whispered a deep voice, low and rough as velvet against cold steel.

Lyra spun in a heartbeat, her lunar dagger gliding from her sleeve to press against the hollow beneath his jaw. A single bead of dark crimson rose where the edge bit in.

Rowan didn't pull back. Instead, silver eyes locked onto hers with a fierce intensity that made her pulse skip.

'And you,' she countered through gritted teeth, 'are remarkably careless for a warlord.'

A slow, devastating smirk curved his lips as shadows curled softly around her ankles.

'Who said I was careless? I was simply waiting for you.'