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Then Malphas stepped forward.

For months - for years - he had held back. He had tempered his strength, softened his presence, worn the shape of a general, a consort, a father. He had kept the deepest parts of his power locked away, because to unleash them fully was to shake the mountains, to split the sky, to remind everyone exactly what title he carried - 'The High King of the Shadow Realm'.

Now he stopped pretending.

He did not shout. He did not draw attention to himself. He simply let go.

The air screamed. The ground heaved. The horizon itself seemed to stretch and bow, as if the...