The dark vortex continued spinning, now even more chaotically.
Only about thirty seconds had passed since the dark figure stepped its first feet out of the vortex and into the crafting space, resounding in a quick switch of authority over the area.
Rowan stood opposite the vortex with a troubled expression on his face, struggling to keep his body balanced. His mind still could not stop wandering about the mysteries unfolding before him. He also could not stop praying that whatever it was, it wouldn't kill him. If it did, his body would remain in the crafting space until it decayed into nothing. Not even his people would be aware of his death—he couldn't even wish such a fate upon his enemies.
