The moment the child-king finished his proclamation, the moment the first people of Ashborne began to move toward him in acceptance, Dante's frozen lightning shattered its suspension and exploded forward with fury that made the realm itself tremble.
Selena had never seen Dante's storm like this. Not during their battles against the marrow, not during the destruction of the crown, not even during the war that had exhausted them both. This was rage distilled to its purest form, wrath that transcended tactical thinking or strategic consideration. This was the fury of someone who had warned about exactly this outcome, who had argued for guidance over abandonment, who was now watching his worst predictions come true while the person he loved most maintained her stubborn principles.
