Erend's breath caught in his throat. The anxious feeling that had gnawed at the edge of his instincts since the battle began now grew sharper and more tangible, as Zerathul's words echoed through the chaotic air around him.
That laughter, that maddening and sounds to come from everywhere-at-once laughter, filled the space again. It sounds mocking, cruel, and confident.
The realization dawned on Erend like a freezing wind across fire. This monster had never been fighting only for his own survival or win in this world. He had been stalling. Preparing something while he and his Dragonborn companions were distracted.
"What have you done?!" Erend's voice tore out in half a roar and half a demand, shaking the air.
Zerathul's laughter deepened, reverberating like a chorus of broken bells.
"It's far too late to run now, Dragonborn," he said, his tone echoing with amusement and malice. "Did you truly believe the only ancient god I killed and awakened was Thar'Zul-Vekar?"
