CRASH-KABOOM!
The massive, enchanted ice ceiling of the royal court exploded inward. A devastating shockwave of debris, frost, and dark mana swept through the grand hall, sending the chandeliers swinging wildly and extinguishing half the braziers.
THUD.
Kael landed in the center of the throne room, his dark robes billowing around him, the Shadow Veil dissolving to reveal his cold, silver-flecked eyes.
"Good evening," Kael said, his voice echoing in the sudden silence. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
King Bjorn shot to his feet, his massive ten-foot frame knocking his throne backward. CRASH! "WHO DARES?!"
Before the King's royal guards could even draw their weapons, the court turned into a slaughterhouse.
SCHLICK! SPLURT!
Lord Shiro, Lord Harrow, and a dozen other nobles—their eyes hollow and devoid of emotion—suddenly drew hidden blades from their sleeves. They turned on the loyalists standing beside them, driving daggers into throats and hearts.
