Third Person
The arena froze in time. Everyone stopped breathing for a brief second, including the crown prince, who didn't recognize the voice coming from his mate. Thunder roared so loudly, then a wave of chilling quietness spread throughout the arena.
High Priest Thorn Ville staggered backward, his lips dry and his face drained of color. His assistant, who held the fragrance pot by the fire, instantly weakened, and the pot slowly found its way to the ground, shattering—just like the chains in the hands of the guards that broke apart without anyone touching them.
"Impossible." Thorn Ville stared, his voice trembling with every thought. "The ritual... it's rejecting him!" he shouted, and it was at that moment fear flashed across Marcus's face for the first time.
"Quick... strengthen the seals!" Marcus barked orders like a madman.
