The room shook.
Not gently. Not subtly.
The entire chamber lurched, as though a giant hand had grabbed the palace and given it a single, violent shake. Chandeliers swayed, crystals clinking together in discordant chimes. Goblets rattled against the table. One tipped over, spilling wine in a spreading red stain that looked disturbingly like blood.
The advisors stopped mid-sentence, eyes wide, hands gripping the table for balance.
"What—"
"Earthquake?"
"Pyronox preserve us—"
"Silence."
Caelen's voice cut through the panic like a blade.
He stood slowly, deliberately, his chair scraping against stone. His eyes were fixed on the windows, where something impossible was happening.
The sky was darkening.
Not with clouds. Not with night. With something else entirely.
