Oberon slammed his sylvester throne's armrests, his intricate white suit fluttering hard enough for the floral jewellery pinned to his chest to almost fall. His golden crown, inlaid with scarlet gems pulsing with mana, swayed over his silver hair as if trembling because of its owner's anger.
But Oberon wasn't angry. His golden eyes seemed about to spew fire with how scrunched his nose was. Enraged. That's what he was.
"Mab." A guttural hiss left his lips before he peered at the ocean of somber figures marching to his city. He ground his teeth, hatred flashing in his eyes. "It's that opportunistic mortal's fault. He freed her from my grasp, helped her recover, but to what extent?"
