The silence that settled after Seraphyne's fall was not calm.
It was the kind of silence that precedes an earthquake.
A silence so heavy it seemed to press on the chest of anyone in the hall. Amelia approached first, stumbling, her ears still ringing. The floor was covered in white snow—remnants of the chaotic body that had disintegrated.
Kael remained kneeling in the center of the scene, his sword stuck in the ground, serving as support to keep him from collapsing completely. Blood trickled in dark rivulets between the broken plates of his armor. The shadow beneath his feet trembled unsteadily, as if trying to forcefully hold onto his consciousness.
Sylphie ran to him.
"Kael!" her voice faltered, scratched by the previous scream, but filled with pure despair. "You… you are…?"
Kael slowly raised his face. A line of blood ran from his lip to his chin, but his eyes were lucid. Or almost. Something pulsed behind them, an abnormal fluctuation of mana.
