(Adrian's POV)
The world was ending again.
Ash fell from the sky like black snow, each flake burning as it touched my skin. The once-golden kingdom of Veyra lay in ruins, castles broken, rivers of molten light cutting through the earth like open wounds. Every breath was fire. Every heartbeat was a reminder that I was still alive, when everything else should've died.
Lucien's scream had torn through the world like thunder. I could still hear it echoing, buried beneath the silence that followed. The ritual was over. Duchess Isolde was gone. But what she left behind, what she created was something far worse.
I lifted my head, barely able to move. My wings were shredded, feathers turned to ash. The air reeked of iron and death. And there, hovering above the broken palace, surrounded by the crimson glow of the Blood Moon, stood him.
Lucien.
