A guttural roar ripped through the estate, shaking the very foundations. Dust rained from the ceiling, dislodged by the colossal vibration. Lorghar felt the tremor deep in his bones, a primal fear sparking in his gut. This was no ordinary Blight creature. Seraphina didn't flinch. Her eyes, usually calm, now held a fierce urgency as she knelt beside Elara. Her hands glowed with a soft, amber light, pressed against Elara’s forehead. The healer muttered incantations, words of soothing energy, her brow furrowed in concentration. Elara’s ragged breathing began to steady, the sickly pallor on her skin gradually receding, replaced by a faint, healthier flush. Seraphina's healing arts were potent, but the girl remained unconscious, still perilously weak. Outside, another earth-shattering bellow echoed, closer this time. A shadow fell over the courtyard, impossibly vast, blotting out the already dim morning light. Heavy thuds, like mountains shifting, announced its approach. The ground vibrated relentlessly. Lorghar moved to the window, peering through a crack in the heavy drapes. His breath caught. The beast was monstrous, a hulking mass of gnarled obsidian skin, jagged bone protrusions, and eyes that burned like twin coals. It dwarfed the entire wing of the manor, its segmented legs tearing massive gouges in the meticulously kept gardens. Panic began to ripple through the estate. Distant shouts of guards, the clatter of dropped weapons, the desperate cries of servants. This creature would level the manor in minutes if left unchecked. Seraphina was occupied. His power was the only option. He closed his eyes for a bare second, taking a deep, shuddering breath. *Control.* That was the key. Not brute force, not direct combat. His omnipotence was subtle, insidious. It bent reality, it didn’t shatter it outright. Focus, he commanded himself. The beast's senses. Its perception of reality. If he could trick it, make it believe the manor was not there, or that something more alluring lay elsewhere, he might buy them time. Slowly, Lorghar extended his will. He felt the familiar pull, the sensation of his mind stretching, reaching into the fabric of existence. He sought out the beast's consciousness, a vast, primal entity, driven by instinct and hunger. It was like trying to thread a needle through a hurricane. First, the scent. He willed the air around the manor to smell like rancid meat, like a fresh kill, but subtly, far off to the east. A powerful, undeniable lure for a creature of instinct. He painted the scent in the beast’s mind, not just the air, but *its* perception of the air. Then, the sound. He conjured the phantom screams of prey animals, the frantic scrabble of fleeing creatures, all originating from the eastern woods. Distant, enticing. Enough to draw attention, not enough to spook it into a rampage. A low growl rumbled from the beast. Its enormous head, studded with bony ridges, swiveled slightly, its fiery eyes scanning the eastern horizon. It paused its destructive advance, one colossal foot hovering mid-air over a shattered fountain. Lorghar felt the strain immediately. His temples throbbed, a dull ache blooming behind his eyes. Holding the illusion, projecting it into the mind of such a vast creature, was like trying to hold back a tidal wave with his bare hands. He dug his nails into his palms, anchoring himself. Visuals next. More complex. He needed to make the eastern woods appear more appealing, more *real* than the manor. A shimmering haze over the estate, making it appear insubstantial, less solid. Simultaneously, he painted vivid, moving images of a vast herd, grazing peacefully in a valley far to the east, rich with warmth and life. The beast shifted. Its head continued to turn, slowly, deliberately. The ground shuddered less violently now. It was considering. It was buying his illusion. A wave of exhilaration, sharp and potent, surged through Lorghar. He was doing it. He was bending the will of a Blight monstrosity. But the effort was immense. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down his temples. His vision blurred at the edges, and a metallic taste filled his mouth. Every nerve ending in his body screamed in protest. This was pushing his limits, truly pushing them. It felt as though his very essence was being stretched thin, frayed and fragile. Another roar, this one different. Less threatening, more exploratory. The beast took a step, then another, its heavy form lumbering away from the manor. Towards the east. His illusions were working. The manor was safe, for now. He leaned against the window frame, breathing heavily, his chest heaving. The fleeting sense of power, the triumph, was quickly overshadowed by a profound exhaustion, a bone-deep weariness that settled over him like a suffocating blanket. His omnipotence, while potent, was not endless. It had a cost. A cold dread snaked its way into his heart. If a creature this large, this simple-minded, could push him to this point, what about the others? What about the true origin of the Blight, the source Seraphina had hinted at? His power felt less like a cheat and more like a volatile, dangerous weapon that could backfire at any moment. He wanted ultimate control. He craved it, needed it, to erase the memory of being 'Trash'. But this, this brutal reminder of his own limitations, sparked a primal fear. He was not omnipotent, not truly. Not yet. He was just a boy with an unstable, terrifying gift. --- Seraphina finally pulled her hands away from Elara, her own face pale with exertion. Elara still slept, but her breathing was deep and even. A faint color had returned to her cheeks. She would live.

Chapter 13: Desperate Measures