After standing still for a long time, Vynsera's legs grew weak. She collapsed to the floor, knees together, as her golden aura faded away.
What she had just done was both physically and spiritually excruciating.
Her Energy reserves had been thoroughly drained, and her soul nearly severed. She needed a moment to recover before she could even breathe properly.
But Darien didn't give her that moment.
He used the opportunity to hold her at bladepoint, literally.
With shallow breaths, Vynsera looked up slowly when she heard someone approaching, only to find a cold blade aimed straight at her face.
Wielding it was a warrior with flowing silver hair. He had a chilling, unique presence.
"You stole my kill," said Darien evenly, his blade glowing brighter and illuminating Vynsera's pale face.
Of course, he didn't plan to harm the young lady. She was powerful, but she posed no threat to him, nor had she harmed him beyond that telepathic shove.
