Back in Xal’dar’s twisted castle, the obsidian walls throbbed with an ominous violet glow, veins of chaos energy pulsing like the heartbeat of some ancient, malignant beast.
The sanctum had become a maelstrom of violence—Azarath, Corvus, Shania, and Seraphina stood shoulder to shoulder, their faces lit by the strobing flashes of violet lightning that streaked across the vaulted ceiling above. Each thunderclap rattled the blackened marble underfoot, the air thick with the stench of scorched stone and raw magic, heavy enough to taste.
The four warlords moved like grim specters, teleporting fluidly around the chamber with every flicker of lightning. Their scythes burned with violet flame, trailing deadly arcs as they unleashed waves of chaos energy that shattered obsidian pillars and cracked the floor beneath Corvus, Azarath, Shania, and Seraphina. Every heartbeat thudded like war drums as the brutal clash raged on.