Now that he had absorbed the artifact, he knew the truth, she wasn't the guardian she claimed to be, in fact she seemed to be imprisoned here, and more importantly he could feel that he had complete control over her.
Isylia froze. She looked at him, realizing the shift in the air. The pressure radiating from him wasn't just Ash Gray energy anymore; it was the weight of the Realm itself. The dimension itself had bent to his voice.
"You…" she whispered, trembling. "You're not supposed to have that. You're not supposed to be that."
Her tiny hands balled into fists, her pride warring with panic. She looked like a child throwing a tantrum, but her words carried the desperation of a goddess who had just lost everything.
Sol narrowed his eyes, his voice still carrying the weight of Orphos. "What happened? And most importantly, why are you like this?"
