Far above the hunting grounds, the floating projection holding Trafalgar's battle had already stolen the full attention of the four directors.
The sand worm rose amid broken dunes and exposed stone, its mouth stained dark from the wounds it had taken below. Across from it, Trafalgar stood in black armor with Maledicta lowered at his side, measuring the altered terrain with the patience of someone who had already decided this would end only one way.
Selara let out a soft breath through her smile. "So he went under. Huh. More creative than I gave him credit for."
Eryndor's mouth twitched. "That's the best part. He's not trying to impress anyone, he's literally fighting to kill it."
Althea said nothing at first. Her attention remained fixed on the projection, on the blood around the worm's maw, on the way Trafalgar had emerged carrying far more damage to the creature than his rank should have allowed. When she finally spoke, her tone stayed even. "It is still above him."
