He scanned the battlefield and found a candidate, a recently slain high-tier dragon, still steaming from its fall. Damien thrust his hand outward, yanked the soul from its body, and dragged it screaming through the death-field.
"You'll do," Damien growled.
He forced the struggling spirit into the ancient dragon's brittle shell and began the incantation, but the air changed instantly.
It turned thick. Sacred. Unforgiving.
The battlefield around him faded. The roars, the screams, even the heat of war drifted into silence. In its place rose an overwhelming presence, as though the very world resisted what Damien was trying to do.
Two souls, one brittle, one freshly slain, collided in a vessel that neither belonged to. And Damien was the only thing holding them together.
The glyph pulsed once.
Then it screamed.
