Elias stood in the grand, shadowed throne room, his eyes locked onto King Alaric, whose regal form was now twisted by a dark, demonic presence. The once-noble king sat upon his throne with an eerie stillness, his eyes glowing a sickly red that betrayed the malevolence within. The air around him seemed to hum with a sinister energy, thick and oppressive, pressing down on Elias like a suffocating shroud.
King Alaric leaned forward, a twisted grin playing on his lips. "What are you waiting for, Elias?" he taunted, his voice a haunting echo that reverberated through the chamber. "Every moment you hesitate, the Flarefolk inch closer to their doom. They don't have much time left, and you know it."
