Soren strode through the corridors of the palace with a step that felt lighter than air. He wasn't just walking; he was practically gliding.
The heavy, oppressive weight of the Frost Throne... the crown he had worn with such grim duty for so long... seemed to have evaporated. In its place was a surging, restless energy that hummed through his veins like an underground river.
He felt spectacular.
As he passed a floor-to-ceiling mirror in the gallery, he didn't stop to check his reflection, but if he had, he might have noticed the subtle, ethereal sheen to his skin, as if he had been dusted with crushed diamonds.
His eyes weren't just blue anymore; they were twin beacons of sapphire light, glowing with a faint, rhythmic pulse that matched the beat of his heart.
Every movement he made was infused with an effortless, liquid grace that made the stone floors seem to yield beneath his boots.
