Excitement flared inside him.
'That would mean… Not only can I move between worlds, but I can also take them with me. They could train in here… In a closed-off realm unbound by the universal laws. A perfect little crucible for their cultivation.'
The possibilities burned bright in his mind.
His eyes narrowed with ambition as he gazed upon the two women now standing beside him.
"Let's get Rykar and Lysandra. Then, we leave."
Without another word, Quinlan strode forward, with the pair following in his wake wordlessly.
They moved through the broken battlefield, where the fires of war still smoldered beneath ashen skies.
Near the shattered heart of what once was Naryssia's throne hall, a figure knelt in silence.
Rykar.
The once-great Crimson Hammer of Vulkaris sat limbless, his body a frail husk of what it had been, clad in tattered robes, head bowed low. Before him lay Lysandra's still form. The old man's posture was rigid, his breath shallow, eyes closed.
