Outside, the morning sun rose like a bleeding wound over the rooftops of Aethelgard. The city was transformed.
Where once the proud azure and silver of the old regime had flown, now hung heavy banners of deep purple and obsidian black, the colors of Rex's new reign.
Below, in the cobblestone arteries of the city, patrols of demons moved with unsettling silence, their armored forms catching the light as they stalked the streets.
The city looked peaceful, a hollow, synthetic calm, as if the entire population had been collectively commanded to hold their breath.
No one in the streets, no one in the taverns, no one in the markets knew that this fragile serenity was a lie. The clock was ticking.
This was the last day of the world they knew.
By late afternoon, the Starlight household, a place that had been a fortress of aristocratic dignity, felt unnervingly alive. The reason for this sudden pulse of energy was simple: Rex had gutted it.
