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Below, the Iron Tusk brothers rolled boulders across new barricades while Shadeclaw prowled the shadows, polishing bone hewn blades. On every surface the glowstone veins pulsed in rhythm with his Monarch Brand. His rhythm.
"Then let it be called … Monarch of Mountain," he declared, voice echoing along every tunnel. "A throne carved by those who take what the world denies them."
The subordinates ants hybrid boar, and moth alike paused, antennae quivering, tusks raised, wings fluttering. A tremor of collective pride rippled back through the Monarch link. Kai tasted it as copper-sweet devotion. Even the mountain's veins brightened, accepting the title like a final stroke of a future royal seal.
