For a full minute, Thoren did not leave his spot as he replayed what had just happened in his mind.
'Who was that voice?' he asked himself.
'Cressida was a host?'
'A host to whom?'
The series of questions bugged his mind seriously. He had thought the presence of a cult was already dangerous enough.
But he was completely wrong.
Cressida was nothing but a pawn, dancing in the palm of an unknown existence. Until her dying breath, she never knew she was someone else's host.
'Now I have the mysterious cult to deal with, plus a powerful soul necromancer that is after my life,' he mused, and a heavy sigh escaped from his lips.
He raised his head and looked into the distance. The endless desert dunes stared back at him, as if informing him that he was in deep trouble.
However, Thoren had gotten where he was today not because he was easily intimidated, nor did he cower in fear.
