Suspended in the air, omitting rays of sparkling light, floated a diamond shape. It resembled a large seed, but with each passing second, it vibrated slightly. He walked to it and smiled, putting a finger against it.
“Your heart is a seed. The seed of life,” Searon whispered.
“Very good,” a cold voice said.
Searon turned to find Zergiel standing behind him with a grin mirroring icicles. The warlock was clad in black, with a long sword attached to his sash and a zylek in his hand. At his side stood one of the necromancers with purple robes, holding a scorpion in his hand, a sinister grin painted on his face.
“I know what you’re planning to do,” Searon said, face stern. “And I won’t let you do it.”
“I know. At first I underestimated you, but no longer, I assure you.” Zergiel grinned.
“
