“Embrace the power of Nightmare or die!”
Deoir looked
coolly at her jailer. “You think the Court has a monopoly on power
in Tyria?”
She reached into her plantlike robes, flung a
flask to the ground. Her eyes blazed as she called upon her hex.
Veins of necromancer magic spread across the camp, raising a swarm of
locust corpses. The skeletal insects exploded in clouds of poisonous
vapors.
As the jailer collapsed, so did the vines on Deoir's
cell. She stepped across him dismissively. “What a simple
fool.”
She looked fleetingly around the camp of the newly
dead. “All fools.”
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