Julian, Scarlett, Annabelle—hell, even some of the old monsters sitting in the grand hall—shivered where they stood. Fear wasn't just in the room anymore. It was stitched into the very air itself, heavy and suffocating. Because what they'd witnessed wasn't just some casual show of power. It was authority. Pure, absolute. The kind that didn't need to shout or flex to demand obedience. It simply existed... and you either bowed to it or you broke under it.
The terrifying part?
Everyone knew their turn might be next.
Noctavine still stood frozen, her crimson eyes wide, her mind still replaying the impossible sight of a fledgling being reforged into something even she, the Matriarch of the Dravens, could barely comprehend. It was like watching a mortal beast ascend into a myth in real time.
A snake being turned into a dragon while you watched helplessly.
