Vorlag laughed.
"You are exactly what I made you, nothing more than a shadow wearing a prince's skin. Do not mistake borrowed power for freedom. You are and forever will be my slave."
The shadow moved closer, its cold presence pressing against him.
"Defy me again, and I will remind you what true despair feels like."
The sorcerer's eyes flickered. The defiance in them faded, replaced by cold restraint. He lowered his head slightly.
"Forgive my impudence, my lord," he said calmly. "I will get you what you desire soon enough."
"I can see it clearly," Vorlag said, his voice filled with amusement. "You still love her. Even after all these years, the little prince still bleeds for the girl."
The sorcerer remained silent.
"She was never yours," Vorlag continued. "She never will be. You could have destroyed her, ended it when you had the chance, but instead, you spared her. Why?"
The smoke wrapped around the sorcerer's neck.
