The sovereign merely...gazed in wonders. Her tale, spun in words instead of lyre, collapses the World anew into stilled blues; her reds blinked as they narrowed, as if tired.
Then, a chuckle escaped her lips, the million voices in the coffin weeping ripples that this world silenced, failed to perceive, as she glanced up. A shadow wreathed in dying embers hovered, then the Dragon Claw slammed down.
The Dragon Claw creaked as the vampire raised her left arm for a block, her fingers and wrist bent and bleeded bloodfalls, her knees buckling under sheer pressure, as her thorned hand swung the coffin, only for the sharpened scale to shear through the screaming metal, shards of soul-tainted irons scattering like spread ashes in a sea-funeral.
