A blast of unnatural cold tore through the chamber. Shadows writhed, converging on the gateway. Suddenly, silence fell, a suffocating calm far more terrifying than any roar, hinting at the unnatural power about to be unleashed. And then, the monstrous form didn't just solidify - it shifted, warped, dissolving into swirling tendrils of violet energy.
The Empyrean wasn't a creature of brute force, but of cunning manipulation. This wasn't its true form, but the first tendrils of its insidious influence, a promise of the illusions to come.
The Knight's ironclad resolve wavered, her greatsword trembling slightly as she braced herself. The lord whimpered in terror, his grand plans crumbling into oblivion. Only Caleb remained blissfully unaware.
Oriole's grip on the shard tightened. He knew this was a desperate gamble. This power coursing through him was as volatile as the Empyrean's own, a force of nature barely contained. If he failed...
