Florian turned his head one last time toward the shattered window, the night beyond still glowing in shades of blue and crimson.
Far above the chaos, Heinz stood tall upon Azure's back—his dark hair whipping violently in the wind, his crimson aura flaring like wildfire around him.
Across from him, Charles balanced atop the red dragon, his cloak torn and eyes glinting with something sinister.
The two kings—of life and death—faced each other, suspended in the air like two opposing gods about to decide the fate of the world.
Florian swallowed hard. His throat burned with the weight of everything—fear, exhaustion, anger—but he forced the words out anyway.
"I'm sure he can handle this," he muttered, his voice low beside Lancelot. "I doubt Charles has any power to do anything besides that dragon."
But the tremor in his tone betrayed him.
'Then why does it feel like my heart won't stop pounding? Why does it feel like something terrible is coming?'
