Chapter 85: Pale Crown
As the sky darkened slightly beneath his looming presence, the man floated high above Dreadmarch, staring down with a smirk tugging at his lips.
A stillness fell over the crowd, confusion shifting to unease as murmurs echoed through the shell-top streets.
"Who is that...?"
"Is he flying?"
Even Cadogan's smile faded, his brows furrowed with unease. Dune narrowed his eyes as a cold chill crept down his spine.
Then, the stranger finally spoke, his voice smooth and arrogant, echoing across the air.
"I am Dedany," he declared, his tone heavy with pride, "also known as the Pale Crown."
The silence deepened. Dedany's piercing gaze swept across the sea of stunned faces. "Will the grand Dreadmarch show himself... or shall I crush this shell until he does?"
A glow sparked from the center of the turtle's shell, radiant and purple. It intensified until it cast long shadows across the people below.
From the light, a figure slowly rose, gliding upward with regal calm. Gasps followed as the onlookers recognized what they were seeing.
It was a man, tall and composed, with hair that shimmered in every shade of purple. His eyes pulsed with ancient light, his skin flawless like polished stone. Robes of silk and woven Neba fluttered around him, decorated with countless ornaments that shimmered like stars. He radiated power and grace, too perfect, too serene to be human.