Thrain couldn't help it; he took several steps back. He didn't understand what suddenly came over Atrox, and besides, the bloodlust he was suddenly feeling from him wasn't in any way normal.
Angry red lines crawled around the ground with Atrox in the middle. A wave of the same energy shrouded him, but it was tainted with a dark luster as if the darkness around him had grown thicker.
Thrain's hand tightened on his sword, and he stopped moving backward. "What are you saying?" he demanded.
Atrox chuckled. "You have even forgotten the dead hanging on your neck."
Thrain paused. "Don't tell me. Are you still hung up over Father's death? You didn't even like the man. Are you playing some kind of game right now?"
Atrox's eyes flashed, and the temperature in the room grew higher. "You don't even remember, Thrain? You don't remember the death you taunt me about? The one you gloat about? You dare to forget?"
