"Hmmm…"
Lucius sat on his obsidian throne in the dimly lit hall of the Heresy Cult's stronghold, his fingers tapping the armrest in a rhythm that betrayed the storm brewing within.
A day had passed since the devastating loss of Philip, James, and the hundreds of Undead soldiers sent to pillage and secure the region. Their severed connection haunted his thoughts like a splinter lodged deep within his mind. No matter how hard he tried, he could not unravel the mystery of their sudden demise nor the identity of the force responsible.
The only clue was the lifeless wasteland he had discovered—a mirror of his own destructive power, devoid of Souls and corpses that could be reanimated.
Whoever this enemy was, they were strong.
Too strong.
His mind raced, seeking answers, but the silence was deafening. Even Lili's attempts to locate the stolen Quartz Ruby had failed.
