Page 166 of Warlord's Plaything

"It wasn’t just about power. Not just about legacy. It was because of this."

He gestures toward the battlefield, toward the abomination Kaelith left behind.

The ground still writhes with the remnants of his spell, corpses twitching, the aura of death lingering.

"This place breeds necromancy. It’s old magic. Evil magic."

He exhales sharply.

"And it was our family’s duty to keep it locked away."

I watch him.

Waiting.

He's not done.

There’s more.

Something buried beneath the weight of his words.

And when he speaks again, it’s quieter.

Almost a confession.

"I was born for this."

He turns to me, finally.

"To stop it. To end this fucking war before it consumes everything."

His eyes burn.

Not with anger.

Not with vengeance.

But with purpose.

With duty.

This isn’t just about revenge for him anymore.

This isn’t just about reclaiming power.

This is about stopping something far worse.

Something that, if left unchecked, will spread beyond this territory.

Beyond this war.

A scream.

A sound sharp enough to slice through our moment like a blade.

I whip my head toward the source.

There.

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