"The darkest enemies are not the ones who strike openly, but the ones who whisper promises in the dark, feeding ambition until it devours the soul."
3RD POV
The chamber smelled of damp stone and stale incense. No fire warmed the hearth, though the night air in the Northern Kingdom clawed with a bitter chill. Chancellor Maelis sat at the long, narrow table in silence, hands folded neatly before him, his sharp eyes fixed on the shifting shadows that played along the walls. He hated being summoned like a servant, a pawn, a man dragged into the dirt but t tonight was not about pride and power.
Footsteps echoed slowly, measured, deliberate. Maelis' lips tightened. The man stepped out of the dark, cloaked in black that seemed woven from night itself. His face was hidden by a mask, carved of bone and etched with runes older than the kingdoms themselves. Even the air seemed to bend toward him, thick with an ancient presence.
