In the darkest corner of the room, a figure sitting in the shadows, whose presence was barely there, stirred.
His voice was less a whisper and more an echo from a tomb. Umbrelion, the Prince of Curses. "He has already made his move. He has already begun to break the balance."
All eyes turned to him. Umbrelion continued: "The remnants of Nerath ruins, sealed for thousands of years have fallen. The stone was taken by that 'Prince'. A power I was sworn to protect, that anomaly, has already begun to consume it."
This news silenced even Aethrax. The fall of the ruins meant the defeat of Nerath, and one who defeated Nerath could never be taken lightly.
After all, however weakened he was, he was still a god. No one below the level of a demigod could ever have accomplished this.
The fourth person at the table was a woman of ethereal beauty, her eyes closed, as if meditating in another time.
She had short navy blue hair and a pair of curved, demonic looking horns on her forehead.
