Weeks passed, and with them, the hum of progress deepened into rhythm.
The southern gates had barely closed behind the Danu delegation before Riven turned his attention back to the heart of the kingdom. The diplomacy was done, the veil had lifted, and now—now it was time to build.
The eastern quarter had been a field of stone, scaffolding, and half-drawn runes for months. It was meant to be the first truly livable district—a blend of stability and style, where citizens would thrive rather than just survive. Riven didn't delegate the task. Not fully. He was there, sleeves rolled, sweat clinging to the edge of his collar, shadow mana fusing heavy beams of shadowsteel into place beside Damon and Krux.
