Half the sky was consumed by rising shadows while the other half had become a world of absolute white ice, and within those endless shadows razor-sharp snowflakes danced around Matia's darkened form, drifting in violent spirals around armor now fused with living darkness itself.
Her aura had become so overwhelmingly oppressive that even Faldren found himself instinctively intimidated by it, and though he despised the very thought, he could feel some deep subconscious part of his mind acknowledging the terrifying depth of her power.
That realization alone filled him with rage. How dare she grow so powerful while standing upon the corpse of his son.
Matia was everything he would have ever wanted in an heir, strong, ruthless, talented beyond reason, everything worthy of carrying his legacy forward, and yet fate had cursed him by making her nothing more than a woman.
