The Crown of Thorns and Roses

The Gathe

skills to an almost supernatural degree, moving through combat like a dancer of death, her twin daggers an extension of her will. The whispers of the land, the subtle hum she'd felt as a child, had intensified. She could feel the pulse of the forest, sense approaching dangers long before they were visible, and occasionally, when her anger burned brightest, the very plants aroun

d, absorbing every word, every gesture. She could dismantle a lord's reputation with a perfectly timed rumor or trigger a financial crisis for the crown with a cleverly forged document. Her intellect was a finely sharpened blade, and she used it with surgical precision. She was also incre

e of a wild, dark-haired warrior who protected the people and left a symbol on her fallen enemies: a stylized, burning oak leaf – the

, seeking contact with this enigmatic figure. It took months of careful communicat

from the capital. Elara arrived first, cloaked and silent, her senses on high alert. Kaelen was with her, a protective shadow. Then,

y

kingly elegant woman, her eyes still holding that familiar, piercing intelligence, now tempered with a formidable resolve. Lyra's

on that spanned fifteen years of pain, survival, and relentless pursuit of vengeance. Kaelen w

burying her face in Lyra's should

, her voice equally choked. "And stro

he wilderness, of Brenna and the rangers, of the battles fought and the lives saved. Lyra recounted her years with Isolde, the intricacies

ice grim. "His coffers are draining, his alliances f

," Elara added, her eyes glinting with a new, dangerous light. "

e a plan. A way to get us into the palace, past his guards.

e. The crown of thorns and roses, drenched in the blood of their parents, now beckoned, and together, they would take it back. The sto