The vinegar jar inside the Reaper's soul did not just tip over; it exploded, flooding his entire being with a wave of pure, crippling jealousy.
'She called my lap hard,' Kaelus's internal monologue screamed in agony. 'She abandoned me. She left me at the table to sit in Lysandra's lap. Because Lysandra's lap is made of silk and smells like vanilla...'
The ambient temperature in the solarium began to drop.
The warm, tropical air radiating from the volcanic vents was actively warring with the freezing, deathly chill bleeding uncontrollably from Kaelus's aura.
He stared at the two of them. Seraphina was giggling as Lysandra gently braided a stray lock of her dark hair.
