The air in the library crackled with a tension that rivaled a lightning storm. The room bustled with frenetic activity, a desperate scramble to free Serafina from the Monolith's clutches. At the center of the grand hall, a symbol, meticulously etched on the scarred wooden floora, pulsed with an otherworldly luminescence.
Eleanor, her brow furrowed in concentration, watched Xol'thul with a hawk-like intensity. The one called the darkseid, once a terrifying entity spoken of only in hushed tones, now moved with a practiced grace as she inspected the symbol laid out before her. Her movements were those of a seasoned sorceress, a stark contrast to the monstrous entity they had expected.
"I don't trust her," Eleanor whispered to Barnaby, her voice barely audible over the rhythmic chanting of Agatha poring over a particularly worn tome. "My gut tells me she's up to something," she continued, her words laced with suspicion.
