The relic's scraping grew louder as Quinlan closed the last three paces between his throne and the severed arm twitching across the frost.
In the elven sections, the prayers stopped.
Elves who had been weeping with clasped hands a moment ago went still, their ears twitching forward as the Holy Son moved toward the cursed blade.
Wide eyes tracked him in silence, and just like that the arena had gone quiet again, numerous gazes following the Primordial Villain as he walked toward the relic.
Quinlan stopped a pace from the arm and flicked a pointer finger skyward.
Wind gathered beneath the severed limb and lifted it off the frost, blade and all, until the obsidian edge hung at eye level with Kaede's dead fingers still locked around the hilt.
"Hmm..." He tilted his head, brought one hand to his chin, and studied the obsidian edge like a man browsing a weapons stall.
