Fredrinn, using the last remnants of his mana reserve, focused on the dark image that had appeared in his mind: Nerath. Straining his eyes, he managed to open a trembling, purple portal in the air.
Cassian, still in his Sovereign Form, wasted no time.
He picked up the still unconscious Cordelia. Together with Fredrinn, they leaped into the trembling portal.
The next moment, they found themselves inside an old, ruined castle, illuminated by a dim light.
Broken walls, torn tapestries with their patterns moldered, half broken chandeliers hanging from rusty chains that had fallen from the ceiling. And right in the center of the room, a young man sat upon a shattered and cracked throne.
His hands were clasped on the arms of the broken throne, as if they belonged there. His eyes were not fixed on Cassian, nor on the sethrak in his arms, but directly on Fredrinn.
