His words hung thick in the air, charged with defiance. At this point, it felt like Draeven wasn't even speaking to Aephyra anymore. His voice was turned skyward, as though he challenged the very skies that had cursed their child.
His gaze lifted, sharp and cold, piercing through the darkened ceiling of his labyrinth lair. His golden pupils constricted, burning with furious question.
"Then why?!" his voice boomed.
"Why?!" It echoed like thunder throughout the surrounding place...
"Why let him be born at all, if you only meant to amass your forces and butcher him later?!" His voice, though questioning, never lost its pride. Even as he cursed the heavens, his tone carried the disdain of a being who dared to look down on fate itself.
