Chapter 45
- Jaxon’s POV
- The ancient iron doors of the High Citadel didn't just open. They buckled under the weight of an empire reborn.
- Four hours after the blood moon faded into the cold gray light of dawn, the grand hall of the Northern Coalition was filled with wine, laughter, and the sickening stench of arrogant triumph. The eleven surviving elders of the High Council sat atop their raised stone dais, surrounded by regional Alpha envoys, sipping golden mead from gilded goblets as they celebrated the presumed death of the Tyrant and the execution of his stray Omega.