A figure in a striking red trench coat ambled leisurely down a gilded hall, his fingers trailing delicately along the cool, ornate walls as if reading the whispers etched into the gold leaf. This was Diego—short brown hair slicked back with the precision of a man who cared deeply about his appearance, and eyes a piercing crimson that sparkled with mystery and maybe just a hint of mischief.
The hallway stretched endlessly ahead, a corridor of extravagance and quiet secrets. Hundreds of portraits lined the walls, each one a lavish homage to a different woman: radiant Galiaeans with flowing silks, fierce desert nomads in embroidered veils, pale northern ice-walkers cloaked in furs, and even a few exotic faces Diego could barely place. Each painting was a story, a frozen sigh of beauty and sorrow, ambition and love. The women gazed down from their frames with an almost knowing air, as if silently judging Diego's pace and presence.
Diego's crimson eyes flicked over the gallery with subtle surprise—though if you weren't looking for it, you'd miss the brief raise of a brow or the almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Well, well," he mused softly to himself, voice carrying that whimsical lilt as if amused by the whole grandeur and pomp, "If it isn't the entire hall of 'Who's Who in Heartthrobs and Tragedies.' Quite the fan club, eh?" He chuckled quietly, a bright flash of teeth gleaming under the shadow of his coat collar.
At the hall's end, a large blank canvas leaned against the wall, waiting patiently like a shy debutante before her first ball. Diego bent down, lifted it with the practiced grace of someone used to handling treasures both fragile and secret, and carefully placed it on the wall, as if introducing a new guest to a grand soirée.
He stood back and watched as the image of a young Galeianin woman blossomed slowly onto the canvas—her eyes clear and wide, the delicate curve of her smile tinged with sorrow and resilience. Diego's voice softened, touched with a wistful affection. "So beautiful, so young… The gods really do have a twisted sense of humor, to burden such innocence with fate's cruelest games."
From within his coat pocket, Diego drew out a small silver ring, its center glinting with a deep blue gem that caught the light like a secret star. He stared into it, memories fluttering through his mind like distant fireflies—ghosts of a past that refused to fully let go. Then, with a sigh that was almost a smile, his gaze returned to the newly painted portrait.
"Looks like this little lady was the final piece for the seal," he said, voice low but playful, almost as if confiding a mischievous joke to the empty hallway.
Turning on his heel with the casual grace of a man who walks among shadows and secrets, Diego floated—yes, floated—to a large chamber at the end of the corridor. The room's centerpiece was a gargantuan dark purple sphere, swirling with an ever-spinning black vortex that seemed to drink in the dim light. Diego placed his bare hand onto the sphere, and the vortex stilled and began to expand, coalescing into an obscure, shadowed figure.
A deep, resonant voice echoed from the sphere. "What have you to inform me, Diego?"
Diego grinned broadly, teeth bright against the shadowed room. "Diomede is on the move, and he's made contact with Gia's chosen."
The sphere trembled under the surge of power flowing from the obscure being. "Then the pieces have begun to move into place, and the eve—"
Diego cut the voice off with a mischievous tone, "There is more."
Silence. The figure waited.
"He has reached out from the dark... and it seems he has made contact with a mortal."
The chamber vibrated as the voice absorbed this revelation. "If he has gained that much power to touch a mortal, then the threat is graver than I imagined."
"We must activate the other pieces as well, to ensure the scales remain balanced."
Diego remained silent for a moment, then cleared his throat with an almost comical hesitation.
"There is one last thing you should know…"
"What else?" The voice demanded.
"The sacrifice has been made," Diego said, voice heavy with a grief that barely masked itself beneath his usual wit, "and the seal... has been reinforced."
The figure replied, somber but resolute, "An unfortunate event, but necessary to keep Bog locked away."
"Continue to follow your leads, and inform me of any changes."
Diego let out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing oddly in the vast chamber. "Do remember to whom you speak, little king."
As the voice's pressure faded and the room relaxed once more, Diego withdrew his hand. The vortex resumed its endless spin. Diego floated up to the ledge, turning back down the long hall lined with those countless painted faces.
"Well then," he said with a sly grin, "let's hope the world will be ready in time. Because if it's not... well, it's going to be one heck of a party."