The violet fluid on the marble floor continued to hiss, its ethereal glow casting long, distorted shadows against the ancient tapestries of the Royal Chamber. The air felt heavy, charged with the same suffocating static that precedes a devastating lightning strike.
Lucien remained frozen, his massive hands still gripping Gwen's trembling shoulders as if he could physically hold her soul within her body.
Kaelen, having shifted back into his human form at the sound of Gwen's agonizing cough, stood paralyzed in the doorway, the silver light of his aura flickering like a dying candle.
