Elara, a minor noble from the frost-bitten Northern Marches, stood among thirty other women in the Great Hall. Each held a silken ribbon; hers was the color of a bruised plum. They weren't just there for their beauty; they were there because the Emperor, a man rumored to be more dragon than human, required a consort whose magic could stabilize the crumbling Heartstone of the realm. The trials were brutal:
: Predicting the Empire's future using only a bowl of still water. Elara, a minor noble from the frost-bitten Northern
"You don't need a wife to decorate your throne," she whispered, her palms glowing with the cold, steady light of the North. "You need a pillar to help you hold up the sky." The trials were brutal: : Predicting the Empire's
In the heart of the Golden Empire, the bells of the Eternal Palace rang for the first time in a century. The "Imperial Selection" had begun. The "Imperial Selection" had begun
When Elara finally stood before Emperor Valerius, she didn't curtsy. While the others offered flattery, she pointed to the hairline fracture in his crown—a physical manifestation of the Heartstone’s decay.