His obsidian armor gleamed under the hall's lights. He wore a small black cape with some gold and a dragon skull, similar to Aliser's. Arcs of violet lightning slithered along his gauntlets, gathering at his shoulders and racing down the length of the colossal greatsword he carried effortlessly in one hand.
As soon as his foot hit the marble floor, the ground beneath him cracked faintly under the sheer weight of his presence.
Draven lowered his head in a deep, rigid bow.
Before anyone could even gasp, he was gone, a blur of black steel and crackling purple energy. The air boomed with the sonic backlash of his movement.
Then—
Aethel was wrenched violently off his feet, Draven's clawed gauntlet wrapped tight around his throat. Papers, data pads, and even the smaller drone cams scattered in a shockwave as Aethel's body slammed into the polished floor hard enough to rattle chandeliers high above.
Gasps and horrified cries rippled through the audience.
