Sylas' forearm tensed for a moment as though he was going to make a move. But after a short thought, he chose to relax.
He watched as the scorpion was dragged to the depths of the moon where it had always been. But this time, it wasn't the God of their Lineage any longer. Now, it was little more than a prisoner in a world of its own making.
Sylas could feel the aura of the Scorpion plummeting. One's ability to sense the Path of the Scorpion with any sort of clarity had been severely hamstrung.
However, after this happened… the world fell into silence.
There was no follow-up message, no orders for what they should or shouldn't do—it was like a silent warning hanging in the air and then nothing else at all.
Quiet stretching to infinity.
A quiet that sank into Sylas' bones as well.
It poured into his being and turned the hot, poisoned blood of the scorpion to a running river of ice and chill.
