The bindings of Ancient Ones were fading rapidly as if something was devouring the very power of the world itself.
Seraphelle had said those words, and Achilles couldn't help but think of himself.
Was he not the one assimilating the very planet beneath his feet?
Was he accelerating the return of the Ancient Ones…in real time?
The thought was chilling as he looked toward the flowing figure of the first Ancient One he had ever bound. His voice was even.
"How much time is left before many Ancient Ones rise?"
He needed a proper assessment—and Seraphelle, catching the urgency in his tone, blinked slowly. Coldly. Her hatred of the situation was undisguised as she offered a wicked smile and replied.
