The doors of the Great Hall did not just open; they groaned under the immense weight of the magic pushing them apart.
Every noble, general, and servant in the vast room was pressed firmly to the black stone floor. The silence was so absolute it felt like a physical weight. The Demon Luna stood by her obsidian throne, her head bowed in rigid, furious compliance.
Lexianna remained seated in Arkin's iron-backed chair. She did not kneel. The life growing inside her was a royal mandate, an ironclad shield that granted her the right to sit while the rest of the realm bowed.
Footsteps echoed against the stone. Slow. Measured. Heavy.
The King of the Wolf Tribe walked down the central aisle.
