She had never seen death be so… cruel.
The manner of it dragged her back to the day Madelyn was killed; cold-blooded, merciless, without a flicker of remorse. Terror gripped her, freezing her in place as her breath came shallow and sharp, unable to look away.
For a long, suspended moment, her gaze remained locked on the arena, until at last it slid updward, drawn toward the dais. She did not know why she looked, perhaps instinct older than reason, pulled her attention to where the Nameless King reclined among the other Sins. The shift in him was subtle, so subtle she wondered if she imagined it at first.
His posture remained languid, his crown unmoved, and his presence as immovable as death itself.
