The silence didn't just stay. It pressed down on us like a weight, thick with the smell of blood that had already vanished from the grey ash.
Arthur stood entirely frozen, his face completely bloodless. His sword remained raised high, the radiant golden light of his mana flickering violently like a dying flame in a storm. His chest heaved as he stared at the place where Amelia's body was.
"Amelia...?"
The name left his mouth like a broken hollow whisper. He blinked rapidly, his golden eyes wide and desperate, searching the shifting purple mist as if expecting her to magically piece herself back together from the smoke.
But there was... nothing.
Roan's usual grin had completely vanished. His spear hung limp at his side, his storm-silver eyes fixed on the empty floor where the body should have been. For once, the elf prince had absolutely nothing to say.
