"You're not even pretending anymore, are you?" Lyle looked at the familiar object in his hand, feeling no joy from reclaiming the artifact. The response from the other side was extraordinarily cold, completely unlike a prisoner who has been freed from jail. The Mithril crown still dazzled, emitting a mysterious light in the deep night. Its tendrils of magic power weakly twisted at the edges, listlessly curling then falling back, as if greeting Nia and Lyle.
The Lich Crown lay limp in Lyle's palm, its semi-transparent tendrils of magic power giving Lyle a slick sensation. Lyle and the Lich Crown were already quite familiar; perhaps it was because in their last collaboration the crown had revealed its true nature as a magical beast, the Lich Crown had shed its artifact pretense, becoming a second tentacle decoration on Lyle.
A whiff of defeatism.
