She stopped in the dead center of the room, a queen surveying her new, conquered territory.
Then, she looked up.
Her gaze met mine from across the hundred-foot expanse of the atrium.
A slow, condescending smile touched her lips, a perfect curve of arrogant beauty.
"So," her voice echoed in the sudden, ringing silence, a sound like the cracking of ancient ice.
"You are the Tyrant of Aethelburg."
"The upstart brute who has been making so much noise."
I gave her my best, most charmingly evil grin.
"And you must be the new landlady," I replied, my voice a smooth, mocking baritone. "I'm afraid I don't like what you've done with the place. A bit too much… silver."
Her smile didn't falter.
She raised a single, elegant hand.
A ball of swirling, chaotic shadow magic, so dense it seemed to bend the light around it, formed in her palm.
"I am unimpressed," she said.
That was my cue.
"NOW!" I roared, the command a physical shockwave of sound.
The library exploded.
