THRONES OF FAITH

Her car spun to a halt, smoke curling from the hood. Aaira pushed open the door, fury already burning in her chest. She stepped out, heels clicking against the asphalt, her voice sharp enough to cut through the chaos.

"What are you doing here?" she shouted, eyes blazing.

From the other car, a man stepped out-tall, composed, his expression unreadable even under the flickering streetlight. He dusted off his jacket, looked at her, and smirked.

"I could ask you the same thing, sweetheart."

Without another word, she turned sharply and walked toward the old mansion that loomed on her left-its silhouette dark and mysterious against the dim streetlights.

Inside, the air was colder. The grand hall stretched before them, filled with faded portraits and broken chandeliers. The mansion seemed to breathe around them-old secrets whispering through its walls.

Aaira's eyes scanned the space, sharp and calculating. She suddenly went still, her gaze locked in a particular direction. The anger drained from her face, replaced by disbelief.

He followed her eyes, turning toward the same spot. And when he saw what she was looking at, his breath caught.

He went still too.

"This can't be true," She murmured, voice low, almost trembling.