Seraphyne's transformation didn't happen like a sacred ritual or the glamorous ascension she had always imagined for herself. The metamorphosis took shape as an aberration: a violent birth of white light, spasms, bones realigning, corrupted flesh being replaced by something older than flesh itself. Chaos expanded around her, pulsing like a living creature, and the entire hall vibrated in response—as if the castle itself were being tortured from within.
Kael watched, steady, but not unaffected by the scene. He didn't recoil, but his tense muscles betrayed absolute vigilance; his entire body was a blade ready to move at any moment. His mind, on the other hand, worked coldly, meticulously, registering each new mutation, each movement of Chaos, each structural flaw that temporarily appeared before closing like an angry mouth.
