And before the crowd could begin murmuring, I felt it. Felt—him. The very rock beneath my feet seemed to tremble—a pulsing, steady beat. His footsteps. As if the mountain shuddered at each touch. Everyone in that room went still as death. As if petrified that their very breathing would draw the attention of the predator now strolling toward us. […] And then Rhysand appeared. He had released the damper on his power, on who he was. His power filled the throne room, the castle, the mountain. The world. It had no end and no beginning. No wings. No weapons. No sign of the warrior. Nothing but the elegant, cruel High Lord the world believed him to be. His hands were in his pockets, his black tunic seeming to gobble up the light. And on his head sat a crown of stars.

The Foxtrot - Chapter Eighteen Archive of Our Own
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

I figured since the wait between the last two chapters was so long, it’d be better to get this one out as quick as possible. Plus the lack of writer’s block helped a lot lol. 

I hope this chapter is good, one more to go :)