"M—MARSIL, MAYBE WE NEED TO COOL OFF A BIT. Yeah?" Esabel stammered. Even she didn't trust herself right now around her brother.
The shadows of moving darkness had grown more around him, framing his beautiful body like some sort of dark armor. A blood sorcery. When he spoke, his voice was deepened.
Deeper than his normal timbre, and no longer that of the humble Prince she knew. His voice held thunder and his voice held wrath.
"WE MUST KILL PUNY WYVERN!!!" He uttered with a gravelly roar. His voice was like the sound of nails scratching on a block of iron. Like the terrors of a tempest. Like the might of a thunderstorm...
The voice of a dragon.
Hemlock moved back an inch as the tendrils of darkness had now swarmed Marsil, nearly drowning his tall form in their eerie shadows. The Prince gripped hard to his sword hilt with eyes completely shiny white.
