118 | Wrath

Unconsciously, as he began to master the fear within him, Vikrant smiled. He approached the window of his room, which was as large as a door, and slid it to the side. The strong wind tousled his hair roughly, while in the distance, thunder began to rumble. The clouds covering the sky of Remirer city were so vast and dark that they turned day into night.

A rainstorm was not good for his plans later tonight. Dravon needed the moonlight to draw the magic patterns. Ah, that's if the young man was still willing to draw them.

Vikrant quickly sat on the sofa. He started pouring wine into his glass and drank it slowly. It was as if he could see his mother sitting on the sofa across from him, sitting upright with her hands gracefully folded on her lap. Wearing the queen's everyday dress, she looked at him disapprovingly.

"I know, Mother," Vikrant muttered. "So don't lecture me."

Of course, his mother didn't say anything. After all, the woman had been dead for a long time. So she wouldn't under