The Frost Dominion had changed.
It was no longer just a dungeon.
It was a kingdom.
Crystalline spires rose where broken cavern walls once stood. Frost-veined stone pulsed faintly with draconic mana. The air itself carried authority — heavy, cold, sovereign.
And at its center…
Ethan stood upon the elevated platform that had once been a boss arena.
Now it was a throne hall.
Behind him, carved from living ice and dragonbone, rose the Twin Throne — one seat forged of pale frost crystal, the other of dark obsidian threaded with silver mana veins.
He did not sit.
Not yet.
Below him knelt dozens.
Monsters. Frost drakes. Ice-bound knights. Even former dungeon predators now bound under contract.
And at the front—
Lysarra.
The Frost Dragon Queen.
White hair cascading over bare shoulders. Pale skin shimmering faintly beneath the thin, regal silks she wore. Her curved horns framed her face like a crown.
She knelt.
Not as a captive.
As a queen acknowledging her king.
