The silence lingered like a held breath.
The dust still hadn't settled from Crisaius's dramatic ceiling-based entrance. Shattered marble sparkled faintly in the air like snowflakes blessed by divine chaos.
The King's face was stone. His jaw clenched so tight it could probably crack an acorn on its own.
He took one slow step forward and spoke.
"…Even if the acorn is demonic."
His voice was low and controlled. The voice of a man trying very hard not to scream at the top of his royal lungs.
"That only proves there was a battle. With demons. Something we were already aware of."
Raven raised a brow and held up the humming acorn again. "But this one screams. Dramatically."
"I don't care if it sings lullabies in infernal tongues," the King snapped, glaring. "What I want to know is—who was behind the attack? Who has the power to kill hundreds of demons?"
He turned his gaze sharply on Raven's group.