A storm raged beyond the towering spires of Kael Ardyn's estate. Lightning carved the sky with jagged veins of white, illuminating the night in fractured bursts. Rain lashed against the stone walls like nature itself was at war—an omen, perhaps, of what was to come.
Inside the Duke's private chamber, shadows danced along the walls, shaped by flickering candlelight. Kael sat alone, eyes narrowing as he studied the parchment spread before him. Intelligence reports from across the Empire. Movements. Musterings. Murmurs turning into momentum.
The Hero was finally making his move.
Yet Kael remained unmoved, only the subtle tapping of his gloved fingers betraying the storm brewing behind his calm expression.
The Queen's voice echoed in his mind—soft, dangerous:
"The Hero is not your only enemy in this game."
A knock broke the silence.
"Enter," Kael said, without looking up.
The door opened without a creak, revealing a figure more shadow than woman—Selene Noctara, his master of espionage. Cloaked in darkness, her crimson eyes shimmered beneath her hood, cold and unreadable.
"My lord," she greeted, stepping inside with the silence of a predator. "The reports are confirmed. The Hero has begun mobilizing."
Kael's gaze lifted. "How many?"
"Four elite units from the Holy Order. Each led by a commander of rank. Publicly, it's being called a 'purification mission.'" She paused, her voice dipping into a wry tone. "But we both know their destination."
Kael leaned back, folding his hands. "So. The righteous dog thinks himself ready."
Selene's lips twitched. "Do you wish them intercepted?"
"No." His answer was immediate. "Let them come."
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "You intend to welcome them… with open gates?"
Kael smiled—but it wasn't kindness. It was the smile of a serpent basking in the knowledge of its coils.
"Not gates," he said. "A mirror."
Selene raised a brow. "Explain."
Kael stood, the firelight tracing the edges of his frame—elegant, sharp, inhumanly composed. "They come in pursuit of evil. They will find only reflections of themselves."
Before Selene could reply, the chamber doors opened once more. A larger figure entered, heavy footsteps softened by the storm outside.
General Rael. Towering. Brutal. Loyal. His presence filled the room like distant thunder.
"My lord," Rael said, bowing his head. "The mercenary factions await your word. They've answered your summons."
"And their loyalty?" Kael asked.
Rael's smile was thin. "To the one who pays. But the Hero's crusade is earning them more enemies than coin. Many are questioning whether his cause is worth the cost."
Kael turned toward the high window. Rain trailed down the glass like veins across a dying body. "Then we'll offer them certainty. Not ideals. Not righteousness. Certainty."
He glanced back at the two before him.
"The Hero is blind to nuance. He believes strength lies in truth and faith. That purity is a weapon. He will soon learn…" Kael's voice dropped, dark and smooth, "...that chaos is a sharper blade."
Rael stepped forward. "What are your orders?"
Kael walked to his war map—lines of red, black, and gold stretching across the Empire.
"We won't fight them," he said. "We'll break them from within."
Selene's eyes gleamed with understanding. "Turn the Holy Order against itself."
Kael nodded. "They come expecting darkness. We will give them paranoia. Rumors of betrayal. Misplaced trust. Let whispers bloom like rot in their ranks."
He pointed to the northern route. "Start with their supplies. A vanished ration shipment. A forged message blaming one of their own. Just enough to seed doubt."
"To the commanders?" Rael asked.
"To everyone," Kael said. "From generals to the greenest recruit. I want them watching their allies more than their enemies."
Selene bowed. "It will be done."
Rael smirked. "And when they arrive at our gates?"
Kael turned back to the storm.
"They will see their reflection in the chaos. And they will flinch."
For a moment, the room fell silent save for the storm outside. Thunder growled. Lightning bared its fangs.
Then Kael spoke again, his voice a whisper of death.
"Let the Hero march. I've already won."
To be continued...