Dimitri stood outside the room, still as a statue, but inside, nothing of the man he once was remained. His hands hung loose at his sides, and his eyes, once sharp and alert, stared forward with unsettling emptiness. There was no emotion. No thought. No resistance.
His mind did not belong to him anymore.
It was hers.
Annora's.
Through sheer will, sacrifice, and desperation, Annora had done what none of the forbidden magic practitioners had ever dared. She was able to control someone far more powerful than her.
She had taken control of Dimitri, the Archmage, the strongest living weapon of the Empire, and bent him to her command.
She had given up half of her powers.
She had traded away pieces of her soul.
And worst of all, she had shortened her own life.
But the price had been paid. The magic held. Dimitri obeyed.
