The luxurious chambers of Zyvander Drake Angelus reeked of cold steel and burning incense.
The crown prince paced back and forth across the marble floor, his boots clicking with sharp precision.
His crimson cloak, embroidered with the sigil of a twin-headed serpent, swept behind him like the lingering trail of a predator.
His jaw clenched as his mind churned with suppressed rage.
Before him, his aide, Commander Raleth Corvin, stood stiffly, shoulders squared and eyes cast downward. The tension in the air was suffocating.
"None returned?" Zyvander's voice sliced through the silence, dangerously calm.
"No, Your Highness," Raleth answered. "The entire unit was wiped out. We lost contact minutes after the explosion."
Zyvander halted mid-stride. His dark eyes glimmered beneath the warm glow of the room's crystal chandelier.
