The sorcerer stood in the center of his cold dark room, the Heart of Nyxa glowing like a burning coal in his hand. Shadows crawled up the walls, reacting to the dark pulse of the stone.
Kalia stepped carefully into the chamber, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of him.
"What is that in your hand?" she asked.
The sorcerer didn't look at her at first. He held the stone up to the dim light, watching the dark fire swirl inside it.
"The beginning," he said quietly. "And the end."
Kalia's throat tightened. "My prince… that magic feels dangerous. Please… whatever that is, get rid of it?"
He finally turned toward her, a slow smile stretching across his face.
"This," he said, lifting the Heart so she could see it clearly, "is the Heart of Nyxa. The oldest, purest form of destruction."
Kalia took a small step back. "Then why are you touching it? It's corrupting you."
He laughed — a hollow, dark sound that echoed through the hall.
