Horam waited and waited, but the blood-curdling screams never came. Did he just die instantaneously? Just as he was wondering this, the first elder of the order appeared with a green glow surrounding him.
"What happened, Horam? Why did you ask me to come here so urgently? Where is the intruder?" The elder did not look pleased.
Horam looked at the thin, gaunt man who barely had a couple of ounces of flesh on his old bones. To others, the man might look like a starving beggar on the verge of death, but Horam knew better than to think like that.
This man in front of him was none other than the seventh elder, Seroth Vyn, a name whispered even among the Nine Hidden Orders with a mix of awe and dread. The "Living Plague," they called him.
His blood was said to be so venomous that even standing too close for too long could rot a person from the inside out. Every breath he took exhaled faint green mist, the concentrated fumes of toxins his body constantly refined and exuded.
