"Our greatest warriors," Blackie began, her voice calm but heavy with memory, "arrogant and proud, rose to challenge him. They believed strength meant something. That if they struck first, they might stand a chance."
She paused, breathing in slowly, her gaze still distant.
"But they never even reached him. There was no flame. No impact. No clash of power.
They simply stopped moving, like their very will had been unmade, and then, without a word, they turned and stood at his side. Not as warriors. Not as themselves. They became his... extensions. Puppets of something far beyond our understanding."
Damien said nothing, his breath caught somewhere between thought and recognition.
