POV: Tharak
In the black throne of Nyxthar, Tharak stood with his back to his generals. Lava flowed beneath the obsidian floor. The air trembled with his presence.
> "Abhimanyu failed," said Vaisa, her voice mocking. "The healer is alive."
Tharak said nothing.
He stared into a burning crystal.
Within it—Guhan's image flickered.
> "The copy mage…" Tharak muttered. "Interesting."
He walked past his throne, descending into the soul chamber, where dark memories screamed beneath glass.
> "If he's what I suspect, then he is more dangerous than a hero…"
Diablo, at his side, bowed.
> "Should I move?"
> "No," Tharak whispered. "Let him grow. Let him remember what it means to be powerful…"
A cruel smile touched his lips.
> "Then we'll break him."