Rise of the Frozen Sovereign
"I will never let go, Ignis. That is the one promise I intend to keep, even if the world turns to ash."
Above them, the floorboards gave a sharp, agonizing crack. The heavy iron latch of the trapdoor began to lift, the sound of grinding metal ringing out through the silence. A sliver of pale, artificial moonlight spilled into the room, cutting through the swirling mist of frost.
A woman’s silhouette filled the opening. She wore the stark, silver-trimmed mantle of the Inquisitor, her face obscured by the shadow of a high collar. She didn't speak. She simply stood there, an anchor of absolute, immovable authority.