The War for the North[11]
The echo of Cryomara's words about a celebration had not yet faded from the walls.
The air in the room had taken on the silence before a storm, wavering between hope and doubt.
Some lords were hugging each other while others looked at the parchments before them in disbelief.
However, the elegant smile on Cryomara's face froze for a moment and gave way to the cold seriousness of a predator eyeing its prey.
Her blue eyes roamed over the crowd sitting around the table and stopped at specific points.
"Celebration..." she whispered.
And she tapped her fingers lightly on the table.
CRACK!
The sound was like the breaking of marble and simultaneously the declaration of a verdict.
The floor of the hall exploded suddenly under specific chairs. Thick glacial vines, shining like glass but harder than steel, shot up from the ground.
These were spells shaped by Cryomara's will.
"WHAT IS HAPPENING?!"
The screams hung in the air.
