When the mist had first started spreading, Pyris's sharp eyes had been drawn to the orb—the pulsating, ominous centerpiece that practically screamed power and control. It radiated raw, unfiltered energy, a swirling mix of dark greens and golds, and was undeniably the source of this whole ordeal.
Yet even as he studied it, Pyris dismissed the idea of attacking it outright.
He had initially thought, This can't be the key. Too obvious. Too convenient. And Pyris hated anything that screamed convenience in a trial like this.
But now, after breaking free of his own illusion, something unexpected caught his attention. As the mist retreated from his form, Pyris's gaze instinctively snapped back to the orb. Its once-blinding glow had dimmed ever so slightly, as if the energy it had commanded with such arrogance was faltering.
He stepped closer, careful not to disturb the fragile equilibrium of the space, and his dragon-enhanced vision honed in on an anomaly.
