The twilight sky bled into a deep indigo, the air unusually still.
Rudra stood silently beside Iris, both clad in ceremonial garb — muted blacks threaded with silver, their forms outlined by the faint glow of beast fire lanterns lining the ceremonial plateau.
All ten Beast Kings stood in a crescent formation, silent and vigilant.
Their presence alone was enough to make the air feel heavier. But even amidst such terrifying might, it was Agni Igris who drew the eye.
The Dragon Emperor towered before them, his cloak woven from midnight-scaled hide, the golden slit of his eyes glowing with ancient pride.
He looked at his children — the battered Rudra whose body still bore faint scars of the beast battle, and the composed, calculating Iris who stood like a blade unsheathed.
Agni's voice rolled through the space like distant thunder.
