The air hung heavy around the fortress ruins, thick with the scent of burnt stone and lingering traces of magic. Voldrak stood in the center of the wreckage, the sorceress's essence thrumming within him like a caged storm.
Yet even with her power coursing through his veins, he felt the void—his strength still far from complete.
Valen moved silently behind him, his expression subdued, as if measuring the tension in his master's movements. He held his tongue, knowing the mood Voldrak was in—sharp as a blade, cold as a frozen wasteland.
"I turned her into a ball and kept her in my pocket dimension!" Valen said as he followed behind Voldrak who scrowled as he walked out.
"She wasn't enough," Voldrak growled, his voice low but resonant, as though speaking to himself.
