The throne room trembled as power surged through the ancient walls. The air pulsed with raw energy, humming like a storm before it broke. Cambria stood above Knox, her blade poised to strike the final blow, her breath steady, her form blazing with the violet aura of the crown. She had never felt so alive and yet, so dangerously on the edge.
But then… the whisper of death came.
Metal groaned.
Glass shattered.
From the far corridor, beyond the fractured remains of the east wing, a sound rose like marching. Like an army. Cold. Precise.
Sophia Drake lifted her head, her tablet glowing with runes and blood-red data.
"They're awake," she murmured, eyes wide with reverence. "The perfected ones."
Cambria's instincts screamed, but she was already moving. She turned just as the doors were blown inward and ripped off their hinges by the first wave of Pandora soldiers.
Not soldiers.
Weapons.
