The Sorcerer’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he looked… irritated. But then, as the last of the shadows fell, he straightened, a small, cruel smile curling on his lips.
“You think this—” he gestured to the melting forms of his creations, “—changes anything? I still control this place. I am inevitable.”
And then the air shifted.
A presence descended, commanding and absolute. The temperature dropped, and a glow, cold and fierce, cut through the darkness. I froze, my claws still sparking with residual light, and turned.
The Ash Queen.
She stepped into the chamber as if the shadows themselves bowed before her. Her armor shimmered with ashes that seemed alive, moving, shifting, flickering with every step. Her eyes met the Sorcerer’s, and I could see the hesitation there, the subtle reco
