The sky above the capital exploded.
It was the Grand Finale. A relentless, thundering barrage of gold, violet, and crimson sparks that turned the night into a blinding, deafening kaleidoscope.
The noise was physical. It vibrated in my chest. The cheers of the crowd in the square reached a fever pitch.
Lord Rurik Jaeger winced, his sensitive wolf ears flattening against the roar. The smoke from the black powder filled the air, acrid and thick, masking everything else. General Rajah Khanda was laughing, pointing at a starburst shaped like a dragon. Archduke Cassian Argentis was shielding his eyes from the glare. Duke Lucien Crepusci had retreated slightly into the darker shadow of the roof overhang to avoid the blinding light.
They were all looking up.
I was standing just behind them, leaning against the doorframe of my shop, smiling at their backs.
I should get the warm cider, I thought. It's getting chilly.
I took one step back into the shadows of my shop.
