The sudden shift in Veyarel's expression startled Emery. It was subtle but unmistakable—his already dark eyes dulled further, as if a shadow passed through his soul.
Emery didn't need to guess; the bone flute the childlike barbarian held was no ordinary instrument. It was an artifact laced with mind-control enchantments, most likely enhancing the parasitic symbiote that infected the grand magus.
"Now... kill him," the barbarian growled, his tone dripping with bloodlust.
Still bound by the Warden's Soul Hex Chains, Emery had no strength to fight. His only weapon now was his tongue and the hope that his words might buy him precious seconds.
"Wait—!" Emery shouted, "I've been working on this gate! I've almost broken it… Give me just a little more time, and I'll open it."
The barbarian gave him a look that mixed amusement with disgust. Clearly, he wasn't moved. But Veyarel flinched. The man's brow furrowed, and his lips trembled—his will struggling against the parasite's grip.
