“No!” Corypheus bellowed, and reached back, a split second of familiar magic flying from his hand. It seemed so simple right then, so clear.
How do you even know you can? a voice in the back of her mind wondered, incredulous the young elf who could still scarcely believe any of this was happening, the simple hunter from the Free Marches. She reached out, intent on tearing him from existence itself. Every child killed by a demon freed through the rifts, every villager kidnapped to be fed to the lyrium mines, the ancient elves and the Temple of Mythal – even the orb, silent on the ground, a piece of the past sullied and shattered by Corypheus’ greed. All the suffering this creature had caused. So much, and yet it was cold, like metal shards in her heart. The orb fell, empty, from her grasp.Īnger sang in her veins.
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