Vorath moved like a shadow in armor—faster than his size should allow. His first swing cracked the ice beneath Kaelen's feet, sending him skidding backward.
Liora darted in from the side, her twin blades flashing, forcing Vorath to block. Sparks scattered against the snow, briefly illuminating the storm around them.
"You fight well," Vorath said, his voice like gravel underfoot. "But you're still holding back."
Kaelen's grip tightened on his sword. The Abyss pulsed in his veins, whispering: Let me in. I will end him.
He gritted his teeth. "Not your fight to control."
They clashed again, steel ringing, the cold air filled with grunts and the crash of blows. Vorath's style was relentless—each strike designed to push Kaelen closer to surrendering to the Abyss's power.
A blow to Kaelen's shoulder numbed his arm. He dropped to one knee, barely deflecting a killing strike. Liora stepped in, crossing her blades to block the follow-up.
"You think you can save him?" Vorath sneered. "The Abyss always takes its due."
Then, without warning, Vorath's gauntlet lit with black fire. He slammed it into the ground, and the snow erupted into a swirling vortex of shadow. Tendrils shot out, wrapping around Kaelen's legs, dragging him toward the pit.
Liora screamed his name, lunging forward—only for a wall of ice to rise between them.
Kaelen's last sight before the shadows swallowed him was Vorath's helm, lowering to his ear.
"The Veilmaster wishes to speak with you… personally."
---