Harriet Hunt's State

"Yes, Father," Salesi said, her voice barely a whisper. She didn't dare linger, not with Andohr in this state. She practically fled the throne room, leaving a trail of fear and uncertainty in her wake.

The moment the doors closed behind her, Andohr unleashed his fury.

He whirled on a nearby statue, a priceless depiction of some long-forgotten goddess, her serene features now mocking him with their calm indifference.

"Damn you!" he roared, his voice echoing through the empty throne room. 

"Damn you, Dark Lord! You think you can steal from me? You think you can defy me and get away with it?"

He lashed out, his hand crackling with temporal energy, striking the statue with a force that shattered it into a million pieces.

"You took the blood," he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "But you won't get away with it. I'll find you. And when I do…"

He trailed off, his eyes blazing with a cold fury that promised a fate worse than death.