The extraction was done, but the air in the chamber remained thick with a vibrating, jagged malevolence. In the center of the room, held aloft by the sheer force of Soren's will, was the ice sphere.
Inside, the dark magic writhed like a knot of black vipers, pulsing against its frozen cage. It was liquid shadow, a concentrated essence of Vetra's spite, and even contained, it felt like a bruise on the world.
Eris gasped, her head falling back as she returned to her body. She was trembling so violently that the sound of her teeth chattering was audible in the sudden silence of the room.
"I need to finish this," she whispered. Her voice was thin, a ghost of its former power.
Soren's arms tightened around her. "You've done enough, Eris. Let me handle the sphere."
"No," she said, her eyes snapping open, the gold of the Pyronox clouded with exhaustion but still burning. "It's my responsibility. It has to be me. Not yet."
