Alexander continued walking.
The inner anchor snapped in a heartbeat. A rush of searing warmth swept back into his limbs, melting the rime on his breastplate into long, dark streaks as a ragged gasp tore from his lungs, bathing his bare skin in a sudden, violent sweat.
Frost started to fade.
Absolute stillness shattered instantly. A violent jolt of agony slammed through his extremities, sending a furious tremor through his hands as a dull thud of rushing blood tore through his ears, painting the edges of his vision in a hazy, suffocating dark.
Blood starts returning. The pain comes back.
The temporary numbness evaporated without warning. A wave of intense heat rolled through his midsection, forcing his posture to buckle forward as a sharp, localized sting tore through his side, spilling a fresh torrent of dark crimson down his leg.
The sword wound.
The neck wound. The venom. Everything.
The frozen seal broke completely. A localized surge of liquid fire erupted from the puncture in his throat, locking the muscles of his jaw tight as a suffocating wave of poison tore through his chest, swallowing his remaining strength in a numbing, heavy exhaustion.
But he keeps moving.
Inside the throne room, the final hour arrived.
The sanctuary shrank to a prison. A suffocating dread settled over the high canopy, freezing the breath in the monarchs' chests as the shadow of a raised blade tore through the light, casting a long, jagged silhouette across the royal crest.
King. Queen. Archon.
The quiet illusion broke. An overwhelming certainty of death hung in the chamber, paralyzing the guards' broken ranks as Archon's cold sneer tore through the space, trapping the royal couple in a state of absolute, hopeless despair.
Maybe the king doesn't even know Alexander is still alive. Maybe everyone assumes Alexander fell already.
Then—heavy silence ruptured without warning.
A low, vibrating friction scraped along the outer stone, dragging the loose debris across the threshold as a harsh, rhythmic metallic screech tore through the quiet, locking the room in an immediate, breathless tension.
A sound. A scraping sound. Steel dragging across stone. Getting closer.
Approach culminated in an instant. A heavy pressure vibrated against the massive oak barrier, rattling the iron rivets within their slots as a deep, structural groan tore through the wood, shifting the massive doors out of alignment.
The throne room doors. Alexander reaches them doors begin opening.
Locked threshold gave way. A desperate, heavy impact slammed against the massive iron handles, forcing the double doors to shudder inward as the full weight of a dying man's frame tore through the seal, throwing the entrance wide open in a cloud of dust.
Not because he has strength. Because he puts everything he has left into one final push. The doors slowly open. Everyone turns.
Confrontation froze mid-breath. A shockwave of pure disbelief rippled across the chamber, pulling every eye toward the broken threshold as a collective gasp tore from the court, framing the entryway in a stark, horrific clarity.
Archon. King. Queen. All of them. And standing there is Alexander.
The regular silhouette vanished entirely. A grotesque image of survival emerged from the dark corridor, dripping melted rime onto the floor tiles as a shuddering, unblinking glare tore from his pale face, holding the entire room in absolute, stunned disbelief.
Covered in blood. Covered in frost. Barely standing. But still standing.
The final reserve emptied completely. A cold rattle vibrated through his damaged throat, dropping his chin toward his blood-soaked collar as a weak, trembling whisper tore from his lips, filling the space with his absolute last breath of devotion.
"Forgive me... Your Majesty."
Alexander's knees finally gave way strength failed completely.
A wave of crushing exhaustion ripped through his battered body, loosening the tension in his legs as a dull crack of shifting armor tore through the throne room, locking every eye onto the blood-soaked knight.
His knees began to buckle.
The final traces of The Cold Vent collapsed without warning. A surge of unbearable weakness swept through his limbs, draining the remaining strength from his muscles as a slow tremor tore through his frame, forcing his weight downward beneath the mountain of wounds he carried.
Yet Alexander did not kneel.
A rigid determination anchored itself through his failing body, locking his posture in place as a low creak of strained armor tore through the silence, holding his bloodied frame upright before the throne.
Death had arrived.
A cold stillness spread through his chest, silencing the last rhythm of his heart as a quiet exhale tore from his lips, leaving the knight standing motionless before the King and Queen he had sworn to protect.
The venom completed its work.
A dark corruption spread beneath his pale skin, tracing through the icy-blue veins as a faint hiss of escaping frost tore through the air, swallowing the final remnants of warmth lingering around his body.
Archon watched.
Flicker of surprise passed through her expression, tightening her gaze as a slow spiral of dark energy rolled around her scythe, circling the curved blade while a low metallic hum tore through the chamber, bathing the steel in a cold violet glow.
Her interest faded quickly.
Wave of casual indifference settled across her face, smoothing away the brief surprise as a quiet laugh tore from her throat, filling the throne room with a sharp edge of mockery.
"How neat. He died standing up, as if that would change anything."
A suffocating pressure rolled through the chamber, tightening around the gathered guards as the slow rotation of her scythe accelerated beside her, dragging loose strands of dust across the marble floor while a soft whistle tore through the air around the blade.
Her eyes shifted toward the throne.
A cold contempt settled over her gaze, narrowing her focus onto the King and Queen as a faint scrape of steel tore through the silence, drawing the attention of every person in the room toward her next words.
"A useless piece of armor cluttering the floor."
A cruel satisfaction spread through her expression, sharpening the corners of her smile as a low chuckle tore through the chamber, wrapping her words in quiet malice.
"All he accomplished was forcing his King and Queen to step over his corpse before meeting the exact same fate."
The Royal Guards reacted immediately.
A surge of desperate resolve ripped through the defensive line, tightening their grips around their weapons as a chorus of shifting armor tore through the throne room, forming a barrier between Archon and the royal family.
Archon advanced.
A heavy pressure swept across the marble floor, disturbing the scattered dust as a slow echo of approaching footsteps tore through the chamber, pulling the confidence from the guards with every step she took.
The formation began to falter.
A suffocating dread spread through the front line, freezing the guards where they stood as a ragged breath tore through their ranks, bathing their faces in growing uncertainty.
Their weapons remained raise, bodies refused to move.
A crushing fear settled into their bones, locking their feet against the marble floor as the steady rhythm of Archon's footsteps tore through the throne room, shrinking the distance between predator and prey with every passing second.
The insult struck the room immediately. A surge of anger rippled through the surviving guards, pushing several of them forward as steel scraped from scabbards, filling the chamber with sharp metallic echoes.
King Valerius moved first.
A wave of urgency swept through the throne platform, pulling him from his seat as the royal robes flowed behind him while he stepped directly in front of the Queen, placing himself between her.
"My Queen," he said.
A firm resolve settled across his face, steadying the fear threatening to rise inside him as the distant crackle of torchfire filled the silence between his words.
"You must leave."
The Queen's eyes widened.
A sharp shock tightened across her features as she stared at him, the weight of his meaning sinking into her chest.
"No."
The answer came immediately.
A desperate determination spread through her voice as she stepped closer to him, gripping the sleeve of his robe while the trembling candlelight reflected across tear-filled eyes.
"I will not leave you."
The King held her gaze.
A painful warmth moved through his chest as he looked upon the woman who had stood beside him throughout decades of peace and war.
"You must."
A quiet sorrow settled behind his eyes, softening his expression as the distant groan of shifting armor echoed throughout the chamber.
"The kingdom still needs a Queen."
The Queen's grip tightened.
A rush of emotion surged through her hands, wrinkling the royal fabric between her fingers as she struggled to answer him.
The moment shattered abruptly.
A suffocating killing intent rolled through the throne room, rattling the hanging banners against the walls as the low hum of Archon's floating scythe cut through the chamber, freezing every voice where it stood.
Archon had started walking.
A heavy pressure swept across the floor beneath her feet, forcing the nearest guards to stiffen as the slow scrape of her boots echoed through the room, dragging fear across every corner of the court.
The royal guards raised their weapons.
A desperate resolve surged through the defensive line, lifting shields and swords into position as steel trembled beneath tightening hands while the sound of pounding heartbeats seemed to fill the silence.
Then Archon came closer.
A suffocating dread crashed into the formation, locking muscles throughout the line as the overwhelming weight of her presence tore through their courage, freezing them where they stood beneath her approaching shadow.
Not one of them advanced and none of them attacked.
The distance continued shrinking and behind Archon, Alexander remained standing.
Silent and Motionless.
Guarding the throne even after death.