The obsidian doors of the Sovereign's hall had barely groaned shut before the tension spilled into the outer chambers like venom from a wound.
Malphor strode down the corridor, each step shaking the stone, his warhammer slung across his back. Captains trailed after him like hounds, whispering to each other.
Behind him, a shadow peeled from the wall. Serath. Mask glimmering with faint silver, voice purring like a knife across silk.
"You looked rather… restrained, Juggernaut. How rare."
Malphor halted, gauntleted fist curling until metal shrieked.
"You test me too often, phantom. One day, I will crush the mask and the skull beneath it."
"Mm." Serath drifted closer, never truly walking, cloak brushing the floor without sound.
"And one day, perhaps, you will learn that smashing skulls wins you nothing but broken teeth. The Sovereign trusts you to win battles. But wars? Wars are won with cuts no one sees coming."
The Juggernaut turned on him, eyes burning like coals through the slits of his helm.
"You plot, and you poison, and yet the boy still breathes."
Serath tilted his head, smile hidden beneath the mask.
"Because he is more useful breathing. A candle in a dark room, drawing every moth. We let him burn brighter… and when all gather close, then—" he mimed snuffing a flame with delicate fingers.
Malphor snarled but turned away, pushing through the stone archways with his captains in tow.
"Your whispers will not win glory, phantom. When the boy stands before me, I will show the Host who their true warlord is."
Serath watched him vanish, a chuckle slipping like smoke through the corridors.
"Oh, Juggernaut… your arrogance will feed me before it feeds the Sovereign."
From the shadows, the Veiled Seer emerged, trembling, their voice frayed.
"You toy with forces… you do not understand."
Serath's mask gleamed as he leaned close, voice softer than breath.
"On the contrary. I understand enough. The Sovereign fears him, and that means… he is worth far more to me alive than dead."
The Seer flinched back, clutching their veils.
"Alive, he becomes what was sealed. You court ruin, masked one."
Serath only laughed, the sound echoing like a phantom blade through the empty halls.
And in the highest tower, unseen, the Sovereign stood once more at their window, eyes fixed toward the far horizon where Kael walked. Their fingers curled tight around the throne's blackstone rail until cracks spidered through it.
"Come, Crimson heir," they whispered.
"Burn, if you must. Every flame dies… when smothered in the dark."