The very atmosphere around the village began to shift, morphing into a malevolent red hue. This aura seemed to be drawn towards Draven, and as it coalesced around him.
A haunting wail pierced the air. The two tortured ascendants and several others marked as the carved begin to dissipate, changing into an ethereal red spirit. It was then being pulled and absorbed into Draven's being.
Liam's face paled, a panic evident in his eyes as they locked onto Zalya. Without words, his gaze pleaded with her to level the village. But Zalya met his gaze with a resolute shake of her head, thinking, 'Not yet... there's still a glimmer of hope; he's severely wounded.'
Without hesitation, Zalya launched a barrage of metallic spikes at Draven. Liam and Irys rushed forward. Alric used his staff as a crutch, attempting to stand. Each breath was ragged, and pain was evident in his eyes.
