The Royal Solar had become a gilded cage, the air inside thickening with the sharp, medicinal scent of ozone and the frantic, shallow breathing of the King. Outside, the scraping of claws against Verona's ice wall sounded like a thousand serrated knives dragging across bone. The ice was groaning, spiderweb cracks blooming across its crystalline surface as the mana beasts threw their unnatural weight against the barrier.
"The ice won't hold forever," Elric said, his voice a low, vibrating hum that cut through the King's whimpering. He didn't look back; his eyes were fixed on the vibrating ice, his heavy Northern blade held in a white-knuckled grip. "Verona, take the King and Prince Herschel through the servant's passage. It leads directly to the eastern gardens and the secondary carriage house. I believe most of the survivors are already gathering there under the protection of the perimeter guard."
