Thoburas grinned. He took the sheath for the dark blade and ripped it off of his belt, thereby casting it aside. Truthfully, it was impossible to ascertain whether the elf was angry, amused, or indifferent about having the dark blade taken from him, his lack of sanity made any guesswork about him nearly impossible. As for Ash, her entire body ached. Her neck was severely bruised and it would surprise her at all if she found herself coughing up some blood later. Fortunately, she could safely ignore her present injuries. As long as she still breathed, she was resolved to do anything to continue the fight and kill Thoburas. Very little was left to her, considering she had already lost her weapons. Earlier she had to ditch her bow so that she could engineer her first sneak attack. Ash knew that she’d be beating herself up over the fact that she could have killed him if she hadn’t hesitated. She wouldn’t let the next opportunity slip through her fingers.

“The dark blade was forged in the fires of darkness and despair by Malachar himself. Can you hear its whispers yet? It has a mind of its own.” It would not be long before Rohaan would feel that something was off, even if he was a Vokurian. The unnatural energy that had been emanating throughout the area from before… much of it was coming from the dark blade itself. With enough focus, one could almost imagine a heartbeat coming from the blade itself. Thoburas hadn’t been lying or speaking in hyperbole. Any sensible person would be rid of the demented blade before its corruption spread to them. Still, there remained an allure to use the dark blade against its master…

“Hahaha! Are you feeling the influence? Promises of power beyond your wildest imagination? Don’t worry, soon you’ll embrace Malachar like I did so long ago. If I don’t kill you first!” Ultimately, the dark blade served as a direct conductor for Malachar’s influence within this world. During the last millennia, with many of the gates having been opened, his presence was the strongest than it had ever been. Still, he would be unable to maintain a corporeal form, resulting in the dark god serving as little more than a vengeful spirit. However, interacting with the dark blade allowed someone to truly feel the presence of the dark god.

Thoburas flashed his wide, sharp-toothed grin as he began to approach Rohaan. “You’re keeping your heart closed to him, aren’t you? No… no, no no! That won’t do at all!  Don’t you know that he’s inevitable? His return has been foretold and shall come to pass. It’s futile to stand against him! A human… an elf… a Vokurian. None of us will have a place in his new world order if we don’t serve him faithfully.” With that said, Thoburas turned to the the amorphous black sphere, the screams of the sacrificed spirits reverberated throughout the room. Only one more soul. Thoburas knew it was time to kill the Vokurian.

In a sudden move, Thoburas turned to face Rohaan and reached out his hand, fully expecting the dark blade to fly back to him. Nothing at all happened. On a second glance, Thoburas could plainly see that the Vokurian in front of him was no longer in possession of the dark blade. How could that be? When did he have the opportunity to cast away the dark blade that he had taken from the elf? His connection to the dark blade gave him a sixth sense that allowed him to know of everything that was happening around him. It was then that the dark elf finally realized. His connection had been severed. The dark blade had found itself a new master. It was only through him sensing a shifting of air that he managed to turn quick enough to raise his right arm, only to find itself impaled by the dark blade itself, easily cutting through his skin and muscle with it’s dark energy. Vengeance had nearly fully consumed Ash as she was pushing the dark blade deeper into Thoburas’ arm. The elf would have appreciated this more, assuming that true fear wasn’t beginning to grip him entirely.