Vaarsuvius/The Snarl

Vaarsuvius stood before the rift, the soft pink light tainting everything it touched. This.. monstrosity. It was where the true blame behind their woes lay, for without it, what would there be to defend against? Xykon himself was a threat, yes, but without this his schemes could never match their current malice. Unlike the lich, this was a thing of neither benevolence nor malignancy. Only power.

The elf was breathing heavily without realising it, face tilted up, eyes almost closed. Lips parted in a sigh. And what was the cost of power? One's family? One's very soul? Power was seductive, in more ways than one. And the elf knew it. This was the true love of its life; not a caring spouse, not even careful study. Simply this pure, untapped potential presented before it, uncontrollable and untouchable. Oh but it was so tempting to try. The elf's feet had left the ground, held aloft by power which was but a toy in comparison. The elf edged closer. Just a little bit closer…

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