The morning came too quickly.
Elysia's eyes fluttered open as the soft glow of dawn crept through the heavy curtains of her chambers, casting faint golden streaks across the stone walls. For a moment, she lay still, her mind suspended in that fragile space between dreams and reality.
Then it hit her.
Today was the day.
Her chest tightened, a wave of anxiety crashing over her with brutal force. The wedding. The plan. Everything was set in motion, and there was no turning back.
She exhaled shakily, forcing herself upright. The room was quiet—too quiet—but it wouldn't stay that way for long. She knew the moment she rose, her solitude would be fleeting.
The castle would be buzzing with preparations, and soon, the maids would arrive to begin the tedious process of transforming her into a queen.
Her eyes flicked to the small table beside her bed where the dagger lay, its dark surface still faintly glowing with those crimson runes.
