This audiobook is narrated by a digital voice.

The morning mist clung to the cobblestones of Valdris like a shroud, carrying with it the whispered fears of a kingdom under siege. Elara pulled her woolen cloak tighter around her shoulders as she made her way through the market square, her leather satchel heavy with the precious healing herbs she'd gathered from the forbidden forests beyond the city walls. Each step was calculated, each glance measured—the Imperial Guards had tripled their patrols since the resistance had struck the armory three nights ago.

The vendors spoke in hushed tones, their eyes darting nervously toward the crimson banners that hung from every building like bleeding wounds. Emperor Malachar's insignia—a black dragon coiled around a silver crown—seemed to watch from every corner, its painted eyes following the citizens as they went about their diminished lives. The once-vibrant market that Elara remembered from her childhood had withered under five years of tyrannical rule, its colors muted, its laughter silenced.

"Fresh bread, miss?" A baker's apprentice, no more than sixteen, extended a loaf toward her with trembling hands. His face was gaunt, cheekbones sharp against pale skin that spoke of too many missed meals.

Elara's heart clenched. She reached into her coin purse, knowing she had little to spare but unable to ignore the boy's hunger. "How much?"

"Two copper pieces, miss."

The price was outrageous—three times what bread had cost before the occupation—but she handed over the coins without protest. The boy's grateful smile was worth the sacrifice. As she tucked the warm loaf into her satchel, a commotion erupted from the far end of the square.

"Make way! Make way for Captain Thorne!" The harsh voice of a herald cut through the morning air like a blade.