Page 184 of Warlord's Plaything

Like it is waiting for something to break.

The temple groans. The stone beneath me shudders, cracks, splinters.

The air is thick with the aura of burnt magic, of something ancient unraveling.

My ears ring from the explosion, from the collapse of Kaelith’s unholy empire, but I can’t focus on anything except the absence.

Kaelith is gone.

Erased.

His body—if it can even be called that anymore—has vanished, consumed by the magic he sought to control.

The altar is nothing but rubble, shattered and bleeding violet light into the dust.

The power that kept his monstrous form intact has been severed.

The dead?

The undead horrors that filled this place, that swarmed outside?

They are nothing but corpses now.

Lifeless.

Truly, finally dead.

But I don’t feel victory.

I don’t feel relief.

I can’t find him.

"Xyron!"

I stumble forward, my breath hitching, my body screaming in protest as I claw through the rubble.

The stones are sharp, slicing into my palms, my fingers slick with dirt and blood, but I don’t care.

My heart is racing too fast, pounding against my ribs like it wants to escape.

"Xyron!"

I dig faster.

Through shattered debris.

Through jagged pieces of altar stone.

Through what remains of the place that tried to consume us.

"You don’t get to do this!"I growl, my voice breaking."You don’t get to leave me, you bastard!"

There is no response.

I tear through another layer of rubble, my breath coming too hard, too fast.

My vision blurs, the pain in my body insignificant compared to the panic clawing through me.

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