Surrounded.
The one holding him leaned slightly forward. Though Rex couldn't see a face, he felt the weight of its stare.
"Light…" the figure said quietly, almost thoughtfully. "He uses light…"
There was something about the way he said it—contempt, maybe. Or hunger.
"You will be useful."
"I—I don't even know who you people are!" Rex shouted, tears of panic in his eyes. "What do you want from me?!"
The first figure stepped forward again.
"We will see," he said softly, and Rex felt the shadow gripping him begin to burn—not with heat, but with a suffocating pressure that wrapped around his mana, making it flicker and twist inside his body.
It was like they were probing him. Touching his very soul.
He screamed again, writhing, as the darkness tried to creep past the gloves of light around his hands. But it was no use. He couldn't break free.
The cloaked figures said nothing more.
They simply began to walk, and the shadow holding him dragged him along behind them.
