The figure on the obsidian throne—his throne—rose to his feet.
The ice that had sealed him for centuries cracked and shattered, falling in jagged pieces to the floor. Each fragment hit the stone with a hollow, ringing sound, like the last echoes of a forgotten war.
And then—he moved.
His steel-gray eyes locked onto Damien's, and for the first time, Damien wasn't just looking at a reflection.
He was looking at who he had once been.
The room stilled.
Selene's golden eyes flickered between them. "Okay, what in all the hells is happening right now?"
Dante let out a sharp breath. "I think we just found Damien's long-lost evil twin."
Erynn ignored them, her silver eyes sharp. "That's not a twin." Her voice was quiet. "That's him."
The others froze.
Amara let out a short laugh, tilting her head. "You're joking, right?"
But no one answered.
Because the moment the frozen king stepped forward—
They felt it.