Vincent/Vaelthor/Star~
The throne room reeked of fear, a metallic tang mixed with the charred ozone from Rayma's earlier display. My grandfather's form hovered there, a swirling nexus of light and shadow, his eyes piercing through the chaos like twin voids. He turned to my father, Shadow, his voice resonating with that neutral timbre that could birth worlds or unravel them. "Shadow, my son," Rayma said, his tone steady yet laced with an undercurrent of ancient authority, "these demons have dared to lay hands on your blood—my grandchildren. The punishment is yours to mete out. Handle it as you see fit."
