He had said it simply.
'...I can destroy hydrogen. But... helium—helium is a stable element. It cannot be destroyed....'
He paused, feeling it press against the inside of his skull, that truth shaped not in words but in laws. The kind that governed stars. The kind that no empire, no crown, no lineage could rewrite.
"So I can only use…. Boron," he whispered, "to stabilize it."
And so, like a god dressing in mortal skin, he moved.
The sulphuric aura thickened, sizzling against his skin. It wasn't warmth—it was corrosion, like his very nerves were being eaten by the breath of something ancient and wrong. His eyes stung, not from pain, but from the memory of it. That time in the past…during the dragon attack . The hours—no, seconds—that stretched eternal in Aurora's realm, watching her link nerve to nerve, soul to tongue, thought to utterance.
She had done it to start her rein on the dragons.
He did it now to end.
