Reginald PoV
I sighed as I my head throbbed. That was close. Those angels almost actually broke my control over my own avatar.
I leaned back against the cold obsidian of my throne, one of thirteen arranged in a perfect circle around the massive, swirling vortex that pulsed at the heart of my domain. The dark energy of the Abyss churned endlessly below us, a living maelstrom of shadow and forgotten power. From here, I could feel every ripple, every shift in the balance between light and darkness across the realms, thanks to the roots of the Tree of Creation running through it.
My fingers drummed against the armrest, the sound echoing softly in the vast chamber. The headache was already fading, but the irritation lingered. Wolfgango's spirit had grown far stronger than I anticipated. The attachment to his family — to that boy, Vadi — had created cracks in my hold. Cracks I would need to seal soon.
