Miasma erupted from Keres's body as he prepared his mind.
"Henceforth, by my authority, the air shall deny itself to those who oppose the crown."
Another explosion of miasma followed his decree. The flames of thousands of candles that had somehow survived the collapse went out at once as a dense fog swallowed the city, spreading beyond it into the valley and across the mountains.
The Unknown King's hand went to his throat.
He couldn't breathe.
He spun and cut down the demons to his left, but something was immediately wrong. His movements produced no wind. His sword carved cleanly through flesh and bone, yet there was no rush of displaced air following the blade.
With a step forward, he divided an orc and crushed another demon's head beneath the sole of his boot. He felt the skull collapse beneath his weight, but still he felt nothing from the air around him.
Something was wrong.
