Page 168 of A Reign of Chromes & Shadows

Rain’s voice rang out, cold and commanding, slicing through the uproar as he fixed his glare on the lieutenant.

“From you?” he said, each word dripping with disdain. “Who are you, Lieutenant, that I should keep anything from you? Know your place.”

The lieutenant stiffened, colour draining from his face. Rain’s gaze slid deliberately to the general beside him; the man’s silence spoke volumes. His jaw was tight, his eyes downcast, tension radiating from him like heat from a forge.

Rain let the accusation settle.

“Had I known what you were planning to achieve in my absence,” he continued, “I would have opposed such stupidity. As always, Father, you leap into situations without considering the consequences.”

He paused, letting the frustration simmer, letting the room feel it.

“It is one thing to be at war with Drazier and conquer his territory. It is another to destroy the very people you intend to protect should they yield to you. Is that not the essence of ruling? Or did I somehow overlook the lesson that demanded we crush everything we deem lesser than ourselves?”

He exhaled sharply; eyes locked on the king.

“And I assure you: the Red people are most definitely not lesser than our own.”

Gasps rippled through the chamber. Councillors shifted, torn between awe and horror. Snow’s lips pressed into a thin line, but her eyes gleamed with fierce approval; her energy shot toward him like a spark, bright and proud.

Azrien’s face darkened. The mask slipped.

“You presume to command my council?” he snarled. “You are a weapon at best, a disappointment at worst. You will not dictate to me, boy.”

Fear rolled through the room like a cold draft.

Rain folded his arms, unbothered, expression steady.

Azrien’s energy surged; boiling, oppressive and then it descended.

A wave of influence swept across the chamber, thick and suffocating. Rain felt it hit him like a pressure change, a sudden tightening of the air. It coiled around the councillors in the front rows like a noose, tugging at their minds, bending their will. Those further back felt only a faint pull, a whisper of compulsion.

“You will all obey me,” Azrien commanded, voice low and venomous. “We will see the Reds broken. You are mineto command.”

Rain’s chest tightened as he watched Snow nod along with the others; her expression slackening, her will slipping beneath the king’s influence. A few councillors in the back stiffened, confusion flickering across their faces as they fought the fog settling over their minds.

The rest sat glassy-eyed, drowning in Azrien’s will.

Rain rose taller, letting his own presence swell; not with force, but with clarity. He mirrored his own feelings outward, focusing on the wrongness of the compulsion, the violation of it, the contradiction between truth and influence.

“Do you feel that?” he said, sweeping his gaze across the room, the general, the councillors, his sister. “He twists your thoughts to make you follow. He doesn’t trust his council. He doesn’t trust or respect your voices. He uses your prominence to spread his own will.”

He pointed at the king.

“That is your king; a tyrant who steals your will because he cannot earn it.”

Silence shattered through the hall.

The councillors in the back recoiled, breaking free of the haze with looks of disgust and dawning horror. The general lowered his eyes, shame creeping across his features.

Snow rose abruptly.

Her composure snapped like a brittle twig.

A dark cloud burst into existence above her, swirling violently as it expanded into the high arches of the ceiling. Azrien froze, staring at his daughter with wide-eyed astonishment.

“How dare you violate me in this way.”

Her voice was ice; sharp, lethal, echoing with a thunderous crack that boomed around the room.