Ariella's breath came slow and controlled, but inside, her mind was a warzone.
Astrid's words echoed through the chamber like a curse.
"You were never meant to destroy us. You were always meant to reign."
No.
Ariella refused to believe it.
She had fought tooth and nail to tear the Order apart, to bring justice for what they had done to her—to Eleanor, to her family.
And now, this woman, this High Priestess of a crumbling empire, dared to claim that Ariella had been their plan all along?
She didn't buy it.
She wouldn't.
Leo's fingers tightened slightly around her wrist, grounding her. A silent reminder: Don't let her inside your head.
But Astrid's gaze never wavered, full of dark amusement, full of certainty.
"You feel it, don't you?" she murmured, tilting her head. "The way the power inside you is shifting. The way your hunger for control grows."
Ariella didn't flinch. "You think throwing riddles at me is going to break me?"
