The being did not descend further.
It hovered in the wound between worlds, suspended in silver nothingness, as if the laws of gravity were beneath its attention.
And it watched her.
Not Damien.
Not the wolves gathering below.
Not the Citadel trembling beneath the weight of a sky that no longer obeyed reality.
Only her.
Aria could feel that gaze like fingers pressed against the inside of her skull.
Not invasive.
Worse.
Intimate.
Like it had always known she would stand here.
Like this moment had been inevitable.
The Crown pulsed once.
Not in panic.
Recognition.
And that terrified her more than anything else.
Because some part of her wasn't surprised.
"Aria," Damien said quietly beside her.
His voice had changed.
Still strong.
Still controlled.
But threaded now with something raw and unguarded.
Fear.
Not for himself.
Never for himself.
For her.
She turned her head slightly.
Enough to see him.
Enough to remember why she was still here.
