For a moment, nothing could be seen except a violent cloud of red mist hanging in the air. Gasps spread through the gathered nobles, followed by silence.
The scythe faded slowly, its enormous edge dissolving into drifting blood energy. Where Damon had been standing, there was nothing left. There was no body, and no limbs. There was only splattered blood staining the broken stone.
The court members stared in stunned silence. Samarishit slowly lowered his hand. The towering blood avatar behind him dissolved gradually, its massive shape breaking apart into streams of red light that returned to the empty vial floating near his palm.
"It is done," he said calmly. His voice carried across the terrace and echoed through the courtyard below.
The heir was dead. The throne would now be free.
