The King's voice boomed across the hall.
"Everyone, make your way to the training grounds on the far side of the castle," he commanded. "We shall hold the duel there. It's tradition, after all."
Nobles began murmuring, rising from their seats, rustling silk and velvet filling the air as they prepared to move.
But Belle didn't move.
She tilted her head slightly, as if mildly inconvenienced by the thought of walking anywhere. "That won't be necessary, Your Majesty," she said softly.
Alios frowned, confused. "Pardon?"
Belle turned her blindfolded gaze toward the vast hall, and the corners of her lips curved upward. Then, with the same tone she might use to comment on the weather, she whispered—
"Die."
The word rippled through reality.
The chandeliers flickered, the marble floor cracked in fractal patterns, and for a single heartbeat, the world itself stopped breathing.
Then, space folded.
