Power erupted outward from the palace in a shockwave of crimson flame.

  Atmas halted mid-attack.

  Then turned.

  And bowed.

  Malrec emerged onto the balcony, crowned in burning iron. Veins of red light spread across his skin, embedding the artifact into bone.

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  “I command you,” he declared.

  Chains of infernal energy lashed from his hands, striking Kael’Zareth across the chest.

  The demon staggered.

  For the first time—

  It bent.

  The city fell silent in stunned awe.

  Kael stared upward.

  “This is worse,” he muttered.

  Arin rose unsteadily, eyes locked on the Crown.

  “It’s feeding him,” he whispered.

  Hairline fractures already split the iron.

  The Crown was not submission.

  It was consumption.