Strax moved forward.
Each of his steps sounded like the deep rumble of a mountain walking—an ancient, inescapable, and utterly unstoppable weight. The gigantic egg resting on his shoulders seemed to require no effort at all; it was as if it were part of his body, as if he had been forged to carry it to the ends of the earth. The icy mist that enveloped the entrance to the tomb of the Ice Dragon Empress swirled around him, recoiling with primal fear.
Ahead, Mercedes raised her hands again, her breath already quickened, her face etched with growing frustration.
"STRAX, STOP!" her voice echoed, reverberating with magic.
He didn't stop.
A beam of ice sliced through the air, cutting like a blade. It struck Strax's chest—and shattered like fragile glass. He didn't even blink. He just kept going, his expression one of absolute focus, his gaze fixed on the enormous gray door of the tomb.
