Kallen's cold eyes tracked Menelaus's every move like a hawk.
Logically, he knew he wasn't going to die—Menelaus wouldn't dare kill him. But staying composed was hard when everything around him screamed otherwise.
From his vantage point, he couldn't clearly see the contents of the grimoire Menelaus carried, but the flickering arcane symbols etched across its open pages were enough to unsettle him.
And then Menelaus stepped closer.
He held the knife in one hand, the grimoire in the other—and from somewhere within his robes, he produced a small glass vial.
Inside was an orb. Small, faintly shimmering, seemingly inert.
That is, until Menelaus uncorked the bottle.
The moment the seal broke, a wave of power surged through the chamber, flooding it like a tsunami. The orb slipped into Menelaus's hand—and Kallen's pupils blew wide. Every hair on his body stood upright, and his instincts screamed.
That orb—he knew what it was, afterall, he had harvested one before.
An Essence Orb.
