The pillar continued to whirr subtly, as if waiting for the black devices to finally trigger it, which were now being activated one by one by the cloaked individuals.
Their fingers moved with eerie grace, shifting and raising through the air as they kept writing ancient symbols using their own dark, corrupted eidra.
The glyphs flickered in and out of view, pulsing with low energy like something alive.
"Everything is going as planned, my lord," Verkaryon said, the way he spoke full of reverence.
"Soon, you shall obtain the power of the Muradryn!"
Malgareth didn't respond at once.
His gaze remained fixed on the center pillar, as if his thoughts were far from the voices around him.
The violet light from the monument bathed his armor, reflecting across the sharp ridges of the black metal.
A moment passed, and then he finally spoke.
"What is power?"
The question hung in the air like a thick fog.
No one answered.
