First message
They never saw me until it was too late. Not the emperor on his gilded throne, not his sneering sons, not the courtiers who thought chains had broken me. When the banners of my kingdom rose over their walls and the palace gates buckled beneath the roar of freedom, I shed the name of Ash. I stood tall, shoulders squared, and let them see the truth they had buried under rags — I was Prince Prometheus Aranor, heir to the bloodline they tried to grind into dust. Their shock was a sweet, sharp blade in my chest. I caught the emperor’s eye, the man who had stolen my birthright, and for a heartbeat I saw fear bloom there. I could not let my love for his daughter be seen, not now. So I hardened my voice into steel, let cruelty paint my face like a mask, and spat the words that would seal this moment in blood: Take him. The emperor dies at dawn.”