A month passed.

Life bloomed in Stoneheart City. Travelers and merchants sprang up like weeds after a spring rain, coming and going in endless waves. Carried on these currents, beautifully crafted invitations made their way to the great factions of the land.

The Human Kingdom, Soaring Bird City.

Leveraging her connections to both the human kingdom and the Stoneheart Horde, Princess Ava had made a fortune in the rebuilding of her city. But the peace of her palace was shattered by the arrival of a single invitation.

Out in the training grounds, Kronos glanced toward his mother’s chambers for the tenth time that morning. Something was very wrong with her today.

He wondered if there was a problem with the quality, or if the craftsmen were messing up again and catching hell for it.

He couldn’t understand why things in his mother’s bedroom kept breaking. In the space of a single morning, she had gone through three mirrors, two vanities, and four sets of tables and chairs.

"James, let’s continue," Kronos said, pulling his focus back to his training.

"Your Highness, let’s call it a day," James shaking his head. "Your head’s not in the game. If you keep training like this, you won’t make any progress; you’ll just end up hurting yourself."

He sheathed his weapon, his tone shifting to one of excitement. "I got word this morning. There’s good news from home. The Horde is throwing a massive celebration, inviting every esteemed patron and bigwig on the continent."

"Prince Kronos, this is the perfect chance for us to go back," James urged. "It’s time you showed those younglings in the Tribe the progress you’ve made."

Kronos felt a flicker of interest. He couldn’t care less about impressing the other youngbloods in the Stoneheart Horde, but the thought of showing Elara and Pallas how much stronger he’d become was an exciting one.

"Alright," Kronos said, his mood lifting. "Let’s go for a walk around Soaring Bird City."

"Excellent idea!"

***

The Palace, Master Bedroom.

As Kronos and James left the palace grounds under the watchful eyes of a squad of guards, Ava sat motionless, her gaze lost in the invitation before her.

It was clearly a wedding invitation. The cardstock was a deep crimson, edged with intricate gold leaf, the very picture of luxury. And it made her sick to her stomach.

The invitation was for the wedding of Orion and a woman named Isilra—a woman Ava had never even heard of. The most galling part was the title printed next to her name: the Elven Queen of Staghelm.

Ava didn’t know where Staghelm City was, but the fact that Orion was marrying some foreign queen while ignoring the prize right in front of him made her want to scream.

She was that prize.

The human kingdom’s decision to grant her the fief of Soaring Bird City wasn’t just about giving her a piece of the pie; it was a tacit offer. The highest echelons of the kingdom knew it, and Ava knew it herself. She was a political offering, a potential bride to seal the alliance with the Stoneheart Horde. It was her fate, and fighting it was pointless. Her only goal was to secure the best possible future for herself and for Kronos.

And yet, the Giant-King of the Stoneheart Horde had shown absolutely no interest.

For a long time, that fact had been a source of simmering frustration. The arrival of this invitation had turned that frustration into a raging inferno. First came the fury, the uncontrollable urge to smash everything in sight. Then came the bitter resentment, the feeling of utter helplessness against the giant who had toyed with her life.

And now, there was only a hollow, numb despair as she stared at the elegant script.

"What am I supposed to do?" she whispered to the empty room. "What do you people want from me?"

***

The South, The Human Kingdom.

King Harold was oblivious to Ava’s turmoil. And even if he had known, there was little he could do. In his eyes, the matter between Ava and Orion was a personal one, outside his jurisdiction.

Right now, his concern was the elven queen, Isilra.

In a small, private dining room within the royal palace, King Harold, Grand Duke Richard, and Prince Theodore sat together, each studying an identical invitation.

"I’ve had the royal historians check every record we possess," King Harold began, breaking the silence. "There has never been an elven queen in the entire history of the Utessar continent. I also had feelers sent to the blood elf race; they confirmed this Isilra is not one of them. I even authorized a search of the forbidden archives concerning the other continents under human rule. Nothing."

The intel was sparse, but the lack of information was, in itself, telling.

"Then the conclusion is unavoidable," Grand Duke Richard said, his fingers steepled. "This Queen Isilra is from another world. Our previous intelligence reports suggested that the Giant-King’s holdings on Utessar were insufficient to fuel his rise to archlord. It seems our suspicions were correct. He has a powerful patron, one who has carved out a new, vast territory for the Stoneheart Horde in another realm."

As one of the kingdom’s most powerful figures, the Grand Duke had his own intelligence network. He might be greedy, and his financial ties to the Stoneheart Horde were deep, but he wasn’t a fool. He knew when to prioritize national security over personal profit. He had no desire for war with the horde, but he had never once lowered his guard.

"The appearance of this unknown queen actually confirms several things," he continued, ticking points off on his fingers. "First, the Stoneheart Horde has off-world territories and the means to access them. We all suspected it, but this is the proof."

"Second, the rumors we’ve been hearing from the taverns and barracks in Stoneheart City are at least partially true. The stories of soldiers fighting wars in other worlds, seizing resources and territory..."

It was impossible to keep a secret of that scale forever. Too many warriors had rotated through those campaigns. Some of them, lucky or skilled enough to survive, would inevitably talk after a few too many drinks.

Orion knew about the leaks, but he didn’t care. He was no longer the upstart lord who needed to hide his strength. He was powerful enough now to protect what was his.

"Third, and most importantly," Prince Theodore interjected, picking up his invitation, his expression grave. "She matters. She matters a great deal."

"Think about it," Theodore explained. "The Giant King has no shortage of consorts and companions, yet the only one he has ever formally wed is Queen Lilith. Lysinthia, Sylvana, Soraya, Lumi, Marina, Delilah, even the Blood Elf Lycanor—none of them received a formal wedding, despite their power and status. Even Blood Elf Lycanor, who was an explicit political sacrifice to seal the alliance between our peoples, was not honored like this."

"But now," he said, gesturing with the crimson card, "invitations have gone out across the entire southern continent. He wants everyone to know."

"So, Orion is taking this wedding dead seriously," King Harold concluded, summarizing Theodore’s analysis in a single sentence.

"Which brings us to the question," the king continued, looking at the two men. "Who attends? Do we send an official delegation of the kingdom, or do we attend in a personal capacity?"

It was a difficult question. All three of them had received personal invitations, as had nearly every noble in the kingdom with significant power and ties to the horde.

As the three men sat in silent contemplation, a fourth figure slowly materialized at the head of the table, taking the seat of honor as if it had been waiting for him all along.