Ashok's chants reverberated through the room, their resonance lingering in the air like an unsettling echo. The Head Butler's eyes widened in shock as he listened to the Ancient Language, each syllable strange and foreign.
The words themselves were lost on him, but the malevolent energy emanating from them was undeniable. His instincts screamed at him to be cautious. Ashok's voice carried a sinister undertone, and the way the mana pulsed around him made it clear that this was no mere incantation.
Whatever Ashok had just summoned or invoked was far from harmless.
The Witch, too, felt it—a deep, instinctive dread that coursed through her like a sudden wave of cold. The sensation came from the very depths of her being, as though her soul was warning her.
Every fiber of her body screamed that if she did not escape Ashok's grasp now, she would never see the world again.
