Chapter 8: The castle’s grasp
From the silence, a figure emerged.
His red skin gleamed like blood under moonlight, and his eyes burned with an eerie, malevolent glow.
He stepped out slowly, towering and composed, his presence oozing confidence.
Annie stopped, her eyes narrowing.
"Who are you?" the figure asked, voice calm yet thunderous, resonating through the cavern like a warning drum.
She raised her chin slightly. "The so-called 'witch' by other humans."
The figure's expression barely shifted. But then, he tilted his head slightly. "From the Overworld, huh? You're strong. But are you strong enough... to survive me?"
Annie's jaw tightened. "With everything happening in Purgatory lately, I figured one of you had to be behind it. But more than one Purgatorist? That's excessive."
She stopped, watching him closely.
The figure smirked. "Oh, there are many of us now," he said evenly. "So get used to it."
His name echoed in her thoughts—Vel'Zorath. The one tied to Castle Creation.