PREVIEW

... didn't just hush the crowd.

It muted the arena itself.

No wind. No breath. Even the flickering remnants of magic paused, as if unsure they still belonged here.

Aurex Vykrall stood with a single drop of blood on his neck, his scimitar lowered. His gaze never left the one who had struck him.

Caelith, ribs cracked, arm shaking, Ashthorn hanging low in his grip, didn't move. He didn't have to.

The moment had already shifted.

And everyone knew it.

< ...

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