[Alvar's POV—The Second Building—Continuation]
The air thickened.
For a heartbeat, no one dared to breathe. The Crown Prince stood before me—rigid, trembling, the blue in his eyes dissolving into black. Ink bled through marble-white, crawling outward like rot beneath glass.
A cold wind licked across the room. The flames along the wall bent backward, drawn toward him instead of away.
And then—
HOOOOOWWWWWWLLLLLLL!!!!!
The Crimson Packs howled in unison, a violent chorus that shattered the fragile silence. Their growls echoed through the hall, low and guttural, vibrating the floor beneath us. Armor rattled. The knights stiffened.
Arden's lips curved into a smile that didn't belong on a human face.
"Grand Duke…" his voice stretched thin and serpentine. "Be careful what you summon. Some doors aren't meant to be opened."
The hall went still again.
