Varek stepped forward through the dust swirling through the air, sword in hand, as the impact from Magnus's punch sent Kael crashing into a building nearly a hundred meters away.
Varek didn't even flinch.
He had seen what those shards could do, seen their overwhelming power. But still, without fear, he stepped into the path of a monster.
"Finally," Varek muttered, a smirk crawling onto his lips. "Someone worth my time."
Magnus turned.
No surprise. No curiosity.
Only that perfect calm, like a man who knew every thread of fate had already been cut to his favor. But he couldn't predict his future.
"You're an interesting one," Magnus said, voice low, unnervingly even. "I can sense something…off. You reek of the grave. The dead have a hold on you. Like a curse."
Varek's grip tightened on his blade. If he wanted answers, this man probably had some of them. After all, he was the closest one to the Royals.
He would pry those answers out of Vaelor's throat if he had to.
