Atlas did not move immediately.
The chamber still vibrated faintly from the previous clash. Frost crept slowly back across fractured walls, repairing the damage left behind by divine impact. The storm outside had quieted to a distant howl, like something waiting rather than raging.
He looked at the Ice Monarch.
Then at the dragon.
She stood a few paces away, wrists still marked by fading frost shackles, pale blue blood frozen along her skin like delicate jewelry. Her expression had changed. The anger was still there, but beneath it was something rawer.
Her eyes were not fixed on her father.
They were on Atlas.
There was no pride in that look. No arrogance. No manipulation.
Only a silent plea.Take me. Atlas frowned faintly. He did not know her.
Not truly.
She had not been part of the larger board. Not a demon lord. Not a sovereign threat. Not a known player in the wider war between Heaven and Hell.
She was an anomaly.
