Lucas, Boris, and Gallahan fell to their knees as they bowed their heads, exposing their necks, fully prepared for Kaelus to draw Requiem and sever their heads from their shoulders right there in the frozen mud.
They welcomed the execution. They deserved it.
Kaelus did not draw his sword.
He looked down at them, his chest heaving, his jaw clenched so tightly the bones threatened to shatter.
When he spoke, the voice that emerged from his throat was not human. It was a thirsty, demonic, blood-chilling rasp that echoed directly from the deepest, most lightless depths of the Glacial Abyss.
It was the aura of the warfields, the unchecked, horrific killing intent that had earned him the title of Reaper.
"You guys can die eating dog shit for all I care," Kaelus snarled, the words dripping with such toxic venom that the knights physically recoiled. "But first, find my daughter! Bring my daughter back to me!"
The command was absolute.
It was a chain bound directly to their souls.
