Slorn narrowed his eyes. “Quite clearly, demon hunter. ”
The Lord of Storms gave him one final, crackling glare before pushing his way through the small crowd of Shaper elders and stomping back across the frozen terrace toward the brightly lit hall.
Alric thanked the Shaper elders before running after his commander. “Honestly,” he said, keeping his voice low, “it would make my life easier if you learned a little tact. They were just trying to help. ”
“Help?” the Lord of Storms scoffed. “There’s nothing someone outside the League could do to help. Let them do whatever they like, it’ll end the same. No seed sleeps forever, Alric. Sooner or later, she’s going to crack, and when that happens, I’ll be there. And this time, I won’t stop until I have her seed in my hand. ” He clenched his fists. “Now get everyone out of here, including corpses. We burn the dead tonight at headquarters; I want nothing of ours left in this mountain. ”
And with that he vanished—just disappeared into thin air, leaving Alric walking alone through the center of the Shaper hall. Alric skidded to a stop. It was always like this when things were bad, but the only thing to do was obey. Gritting his teeth, he walked over to the best mended of the walking wounded and began giving orders to move out. His words were met with grim stares. Most of the League was too wounded to make a safe portal back to the fortress. But they were soldiers, and they obeyed without grumbling, working quietly under Alric to bring home the dead through the long, bloody night.
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