Deep beneath the Radiant Spire, in a place hidden from divine sight, the Court of Shadows convened.
They were neither gods nor men, but remnants of both—ancient lords who fed on sin, ambition, and secrets. Cloaked in glamours that twisted light, they watched the rise of Zeirion with uneasy hunger.
"He returns, and already the realms shift," hissed Lady Calverra, whose smile carved fear into souls.
"We must bind him," growled Morak the Fetid, keeper of decayed truths.
"Fools," a voice said from the dark.
It belonged to the Pale Mirror, a being who had once served Zeirion—and betrayed him.
"He cannot be bound. He must be led... to her."
The Court fell silent.
"She still lives?" Calverra asked.
"She waits," Pale Mirror replied. "And if she meets him again, we are undone."
They began to move then—sending whispers into dreams, forging pacts, and raising pawns.
But Zeirion already felt their gaze.
He turned to Aralya. "The rats in the dark stir."
"They'll bite only once," she replied, a blade of moonlight forming at her side.