Althan expected to be many things in his life, a Grand Magus, a Highprince, and lead his family to greatness, but never a hostage. Ignoring the prospect of threats to his life, he just didn’t like the prospect of getting held against his will.
The force field shook with his heartbeat rising, as Althan looked at the ritual in the corner of his eyes. The air above the altar was warping crazily, twisting and turning into a blackness that gives chills to the heart of men.
There were two guards on him, though all their attention was on whatever was going on in the ritual. They were fearful like him too, praying to Ishar, even unaware of what kind of abomination they were attempting. But the important thing was that they left him on his own, as if he would try nothing. Well, why wouldn’t they? His channels have been shielded, he’s nothing but a lamb to be butchered.