The sound of glass breaking and screams from the ballroom barely had time to sink in before Cherion and Zarius rushed back inside. The refreshing cold breeze was quickly replaced by the suffocating atmosphere of panic, the sharp smell of ozone, and the unmistakable scent of blood.
Cherion's eyes widened as he scanned the frantic room. The once-glittering, orderly crowd of nobles had completely fractured, violently parting in a frantic wave of mass panic away from that specific spot near the refreshment tables. High-society etiquette vanished in a heartbeat as aristocrats scrambled backward, shoving past one another to distance themselves from the horrific sight. The air instantly filled with a chaotic din of sharp, terrified gasps and frantic, overlapping whispers.
