The air in the highest chamber of the fortress was thick with dark magic, the kind that made every breath feel like it was pulling in poison. James stood at the front of the massive army, Zeldor glowing faintly at his side, ready for battle. His eyes locked onto the dark figure of Rhozz, who stood at the far end of the room atop a raised dais. The necromancer's skeletal hands gripped his staff, which hummed with sinister energy, the red jewel at its head pulsing like a heart beating with malevolent life.
"Welcome, James of Valoran," Rhozz hissed, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "You've made it this far, but this is where your journey ends. I shall claim your soul, and your people will be my eternal servants."
James glared at the necromancer, tightening his grip on the hilt of Zeldor. "Your reign of terror ends today, Rhozz."
