The silence was long in the room after the stranger had gone.
The flames in the great braziers leapt nervously, making agitated shadows on the cold stone walls. The acrid stench of burnt magic still lingered in the air—faint but unmistakable, like the hints of something dark that would not quite disperse.
Zaelith remained rigid, his golden eyes glued to where the stranger had been. His fingers, still curled around his weapon's hilt, remained tight.
Seraphis hadn't budged either.
Velistra was the first to break the silence, though.
"That wasn't a messenger," she breathed, stepping out of the shadows, arms crossed. "Whatever power sent him… is watching us very closely."
Draegor leaned back in his throne, his expression unreadable.
"And yet," he mused, "they do not move against us."
Velistra tilted her head to one side, looking at him. "Perhaps they do not need to."
A silence.
Draegor's smile was narrow, but it existed. "Not yet."
The tension of the moment hung suspended.
And then Draegor stood up.
The movement was slow, but it carried an undeniable weight. Zaelith and Seraphis stiffened immediately, while Velistra simply watched.
The Tyrant of the North did not remain still for long.
He made no hesitation about proceeding toward the big doors of the chamber.
The others followed behind him.
A Kingdom That Watches
Beyond the fortress, the Blackspire Mountains rose in convoluted ridges beneath the night's cover. Storm clouds churned on the horizon, their dark forms highlighted by an infrequent flash of lightning.
The world was quiet.
But Draegor had better sense than to think for a moment it was.
His gaze drifted towards the southern horizon, towards unseen power that had sent their so-called message.
A challenge.
A warning.
Or perhaps. something else.
Zaelith finally spoke, voice cutting with pent-up frustration. "We must do something. Let me pursue this force before they become a threat."
Seraphis remained quiet for a moment before she shook her head. "That would be. unwise."
Zaelith turned his head a fraction, golden eyes narrowing. "Explain."
Seraphis' body trembled faintly. "They did not reveal their strength, nor their numbers. To pursue an enemy that is concealed is to risk falling into their grasp."
Zaelith scorned. "And inaction is better?"
Draegor's voice cut through the air, smooth but unrelenting.
"We are not being inactive."
Zaelith confronted him, but the searing glare in Draegor's scarlet eyes immobilized him.
"We are watching."
Zaelith clenched his jaw but remained silent.
Draegor's smile widened. "They believe patience is their weapon." His gaze turned to the distant lands. "But they have yet to comprehend—"
His hand clenched.
"Patience is for the one sitting upon the throne."
A dense silence fell between them.
And so, then, Zaelith nodded slowly.
Velistra breathed quietly, shaking her head with a tiny smile. "I see now why they are frightened of you, Draegor."
Draegor merely turned, heading back toward the fortress.
"Let them move," he said. "Let them think themselves unseen."
His crimson eyes glowed with a faint light.
"And when they think themselves safe…"
A slow, deliberate smile.
"We will remind them who watches the dark."
The First Move
As the storm brewed in the distant horizon, the Blackspire Mountains were left untouched by the approaching winds.
But in the deep valleys beyond Draegor's reach, something moved.
One man knelt in the beam of a ruined keep. His fingers were held to the earth—slow, measured breaths.
The air trembled around him.
He had performed his task.
Now, he would see if the Tyrant saw it.
A voice came out of the shadows.
"Is he prepared?"
The kneeling man let out his breath.
".We shall see."