The room, already saturated by the dense atmosphere of power, seemed to distort, as if space itself was bending around them.
Time, that silent enemy, no longer made sense. The clock was incapable of continuing in the same way in that place. A room made especially for this kind of pleasure... Well, Morgana thought, that would be the best way to get the most out of her husband. Although she didn't want to share him, she made this distortion permanent in this small space.
What were hours to someone who lived in an eternal cycle of exhaustion and renewal? For him, they were just pleasurable moments, filled with Voralith's energy. That primordial source which, as much as it was his salvation, also consumed him mercilessly.