Thalorax, the towering figure of the Dragonborn, stood his ground, his obsidian scales catching the ethereal glow of Morticia.
A deep-seated sense of protectiveness, an instinct inherited from the very blood of Nova that ran through his veins, flared within him.
his fiery eyes narrowed, and with a mental command, the space around Morticia began to warp and shimmer.
Sharp, silent space blades materialized in a vortex, threatening to tear her formless body into nothingness.
Morticia, a being of mist, was utterly flabbergasted.
She had never encountered a power so absolute, so alien to her own.
She could neither fight nor flee, and the crushing pressure of the space magic was a tangible threat to her very existence.
"I mean no harm," her voice, a haunting whisper, echoed directly in Thalorax's mind. "I am here to congratulate you"
Thalorax, a being born of Nova's blood inherited her proud and arrogant nature.
Thus, dismissed her words as a mere trick of a demon.
