Brank
"Sigh... I'm sorry my friend... I agree that we should fight this foe, but now is not the time."
The Dark Lord grabs his dark spear. Shadowy flames begin to stack up in an aura around Melkor. He spreads his wings of fire. He holds his spear like a staff, the flames crawling up on it. In a swift move the Dark lord makes the spear's tip touch the barrier. The shadows being pushed into the barrier, damaging it, cracking it, breaking it.
"I'm afraid you are not willing to come with me, are you? This is your last chance. Follow me back, or I will take you back."