Lysander saw death coming. It didn't look like a blade; it looked like an eternal, silver sun.
In a moment of pure, desperate cowardice, Lysander reached into the hidden pocket of his shredded tunic and pulled out a jagged, pulsating orb—a Void-Gate Anchor. It was a relic of the Shadow Catalyst, a one-way ticket into the Grey Waste between worlds.
"You think you've won, boy?" Lysander spat, his voice cracking with terror as he crushed the orb in his hand. "This was just the audit of your patience. I will return with the full weight of the Syndicate. I will return when she is a corpse, and your empire is a graveyard!"
A rift of absolute darkness tore open behind the Duke. It didn't look like a portal; it looked like a tear in the fabric of the universe. Before Kassian's silver fire could reach him, the rift swallowed Lysander whole, snapping shut with a sound like a thunderclap.
