A Queen's Decree

The air in the visitation room hung thick, a stale perfume of desperation and regret. Elara sat across the table, her hands clasped, a stillness about her that belied the tempest in her soul. Silas, across the Formica expanse, was a shadow of the man who had once cast such a long, suffocating spell. His eyes, once sharp with a dangerous spark, now held a duller, caged desperation.

He spoke first, his voice a low rumble that had once promised galaxies and delivered only dust. "You came. I knew you would."

Elara’s gaze met his, unwavering. "I said I would, Silas."