Selene sat upon her throne, watching the flickering glow of the Verdant Nexus as night settled over her domain. The air was alive with unseen whispers—not from the Watchers or the Ancient One, but from the very web of power she had woven around herself.

  The Fae had returned to her.

  They had played their parts well, listening to the traitors’ whispers, entertaining their schemes, letting them think that doubt had begun to fester.

  And then, they had reported everything.

  ---

  She had already known.

  Of course, she had.

  Duskwind and Fenric were predictable—humans who thought themselves clever, who mistook their ability to manipulate the weak for true control.

  She had allowed them to act, because their plot was fruitless before it even began.

  They had chosen to target her Fae.

  They had tried to plant doubt, hesitation, weakness.

  But the Fae did not waver.

  They could not.

  Loyalty was not a fragile number in a system that could decay over time.

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  Loyalty was written into the very nature of her court.

  Duskwind thought he was winning.

  Fenric thought he was convincing.

  Neither realized that they were already bound.

  ---

  She considered ending it now.

  Duskwind and Fenric were useful, but not irreplaceable.

  They had proven they would turn against her the moment they believed her control had slipped.

  And yet…

  Selene did not rise from her throne.

  Not yet.

  Because they were still playing the game.

  And she wanted to see how far they would go.

  ---

  A presence stirred at her side.

  Oaths.

  The Fae Lord of Oaths knelt, glowing eyes unblinking as they watched her.

  “You allow them to continue,” Oaths said.

  Selene nodded. “For now.”

  Oaths tilted their head slightly.

  “Words have weight,” they murmured. “Even when spoken in falsehood.”

  Selene exhaled softly.

  “I know.”

  She turned her gaze toward the great doors of her hall.

  “They think they are planting seeds of betrayal,” she murmured. “But the only thing they are doing…”

  Her lips curved slightly.

  “…is ensuring their own downfall.”

  ---

  She stood.

  The castle seemed to breathe with her.

  The Fae Lords gathered as she walked from the throne, the air humming with energy.

  The traitors had made their move.

  Now, it was time to make hers.

  She turned toward Strategy.

  “Blackwell’s forces?” she asked.

  Strategy inclined their head. “Doubt spreads,” they said simply. “Mirrors has positioned himself among them. The first cracks have begun to form.”

  Selene nodded. Good.

  Ironveil had not yet fallen.

  But it was crumbling.

  She would not need another battle.

  When the moment was right, Blackwell’s own soldiers would break themselves.

  ---

  She strode toward the Fae Circle, placing a hand upon the ancient glyphs.

  The power surged beneath her palm, thrumming in response to her will.

  She would summon again, soon.

  She would strengthen her web even further.

  Duskwind and Fenric thought they were moving against her.

  They did not yet realize they were walking a path she had already set for them.

  She smiled, closing her eyes.

  Let them play their game.

  Let them believe they were in control.

  And when the time came, she would remind them what true power was.