What seemed strange about the Frost Monarch was that he wasn't actively participating in the mural's battle. Unlike the others—who raged forward, baring claws and breathing elements—his stance was passive. Defensive.
Almost as if… he was holding back.
Nyxirith leaned in closer. "Something's wrong here. The Frost Monarch... he's not attacking the Ninth. He's standing behind the others."
Raziel tilted his head and couldn't help but snicker. "Like a coward?"
"No," she said sharply. "Like someone who didn't want to fight."
"Then why was he there?" the Lightning Prince asked, a hint of confusion on his face.
She didn't answer. Her eyes lingered on the mural as if trying to study it further. The more she looked at it, the more confusing everything became.
"Let's memorize this. Drake and the others need to see it," she eventually sighed, giving up.
They both stared at the mural in silence for a while.
