The Shadow King did not struggle.
That was the first sign something was wrong.
Ivy’s hand tightened around his throat, lifting him slightly off the air itself. His wings flickered weakly, shadow unraveling at the edges.
Below, the kingdom stood frozen in silence.
Rowan watched, breath held.
“End it,” one of the generals whispered.
But the Shadow King smiled.
Slowly.
“You feel it, don’t you?” he rasped.
Ivy’s crimson eyes narrowed.
“Feel what?”
His silver gaze gleamed with something dangerous.
“The chain.”
For a fraction of a second
She did.
A thread.
Thin. Ancient. Buried deep inside the shadow she had absorbed from the abyss.
Connected to him.
Her grip tightened.
“Speak clearly,” she ordered.
He coughed, dark smoke spilling from his lips.
“My death,” he said hoarsely,
