The absolute silence of the Shadow Realm hung around the two warriors like a heavy cloak.
In this endless void where time and space had lost all meaning, there were only two entities:
The noble purple glow seeping from the stone in Fredrinn's chest...
...and the pitch-black darkness emanating from the cracks in the Black Knight's armor.
They circled each other with the slow, measured steps of predators in a deadly dance, waiting for the slightest moment of weakness, the slightest hesitation, to attack.
The advantage, despite all his wounds and the weakening from Cassian, still belonged to the Black Knight.
This was his hunting ground. His kingdom.
Every shadow was a limb of his; every whisper, a reflection of his will.
His very presence in this realm compensated for the damage he had taken and the power he had lost, turning him once again into a nightmare difficult to defeat.
Fredrinn was fully aware of this bitter truth.
