The silence that followed was not peace—it was the sound of something absolute. The air hung heavy, thick with ash and remnants of ancient rot.
What was once a narrow dungeon corridor now resembled the ruins of a battlefield scorched by divine wrath.
Charred flesh and fragmented bones lay in grotesque piles, cracked skulls staring blankly at ceilings they would never see again. The stench of death was everywhere, but beneath it lingered something more potent: power.
In the center of that darkness—where no light dared wander, where even the flickering dungeon wisps had dimmed in reverence—two smoldering orbs broke through the shadows.
Purple. Lavender. Ethereal.
Caspian's eyes glowed with a restrained brilliance, cold and sharp like the edge of a cursed blade. The glow wasn't blinding, but it commanded the darkness, demanded its submission. It wasn't just light—it was declaration. Domination.
