Chapter 60. They Didn’t Create a Monster

King Ezra’s POV

The stones had begun humming again. That was the first warning.

I’d been asleep, or something near to it. What I do in that room beneath the throne isn’t rest, not in any mortal sense. My body stills, yes. My breath slows. But I am always aware. Always listening. And when the stone sang, I rose without needing to think.

The song was old. Older than the name “Winter Mountain.” Older than the blood oaths that bind me to this realm. It vibrated along the rootstones of the palace, not as alarm, not as summons.

As an invitation. Someone had entered the Hall of Threads.

Only four in this world carry the right to cross that threshold; myself, and three whose names are no longer spoken in this century. If a fourth had found their way in, then something was either deeply wrong, or about to be corrected. I did not hurry. Kings do not rush. But I did not pause, either.

The walk down was long, thirty-two spiral levels, no shortcuts, no