Black clouds rolled away, carried listlessly on the new autumn's wind, peeling back like a curtain to reveal the full moon above. A veil of silver swept over the Omnirian low lands, illuminating them in starlight. The capital city of Eadenfros gleamed below, sprawling outward for well over two square miles, containing within it a ring of ancient buildings that surround the Royal Palace — the old city of Holun Caras.

  Holun Caras — the original capital of Omnirius— was built nearly one thousand years ago by the founder of Omnirius. However, it had been demolished at the command of the Rhoden Dynasty to make room for their new city of Eadenfros. The Rhodens had sought to eliminate from Omnirius the influences of the Omnir Dynasty, and with it the remnants of the Deceluan faith that dominated the region. Temples fell, homes were destroyed, and the streets were remodeled and reorganized. Eadenfros has since stood as a testament to the Rhoden’s vision for Omnirius— the new city of Eadenfros.

  From the sky above, this new city seemed quiet and peaceful. The streets were empty and the buildings were dark— all except for one.

  Towards the center of the city, in the highest room of a great stone tower, a fire was burning; a beckoning, orange glow against the backdrop of placid night.

  This was the northern tower of the Royal Magistrate Office.

  Over a dozen multi-story buildings were connected to one another, culminating into a large central building that rose several stories into the air. Polished stone walls surrounded the complex, within which were woven a lattice of manicured gardens and stone laid walkways. Four rectangular towers were positioned at either corner of the great central structure, each topped with a spire of obsidian and supported by columns of granite.

  Inside the north tower, Zorren tossed a log into the fireplace and stoked the flame. The room had four chairs, positioned with their backs to either of the four walls. The ceilings were low, and except for a few small tables and a pile of dried wood, there was not much else.

  Zorren placed the iron rod against the mantle and walked over to one of the arm chairs. Outside, the tower groaned and shook as the wind passed over, letting a draft in through the open window.

  "Can we shut that damn thing, Zorren? I'll catch a cold."

  Allan pulled his coat up tighter around him and tucked his arms under the heavy fur.

  “We must leave the window open until he returns.”

  “Hmph. How I loath when he does this…”

  “I know.”

  Enticed by curiosity, Zorren walked slowly over to the third chair. Resting comfortably between the armrests was the body of Vrastus.

  Zorren leaned over and peered into Vrastus’ eyes— they were like black, glossy marbles which rolled back and forth. Allan’s arm chair sounded as he shifted his weight to peer from safely behind Zorren.

  “I will never be accustomed to that,” he said with disgust. “I can handle your spellwork, Zorren. But him?”

  Zorren was tempted to agree.

  Many years ago, he had put considerable distance between himself and the remnants of his sect. But even still, Zorren firmly believed in their philosophy and the tenets of their sacred doctrine. Whatever Vrastus was, from wherever he drew his power, it was certainly something that gave Zorren profound unease. Regardless of this, however, Zorren was committed to their partnership.

  He needed Vrastus.

  Even if it meant sacrificing his own principles…

  Away beneath the clouds, a slick black crow glided on the updraft toward the northern tower of the Magistrate compound. It came soon enough to the window’s ledge and landed with a fluttering of wings; the warmth from the fireplace was welcoming.

  Vrastus’ eyes rolled slowly back into his head and he drew in a deep breath. Then, suddenly, the whites of his eyes returned and he gasped for air.

  Allan nearly jumped out of his seat at the sound.

  Vrastus smiled at the sight of his wide and fearful eyes.

  “Did you miss me?”

  “Hardly.”

  Zorren watched as the crow leapt into the air and landed on Vrastus’ shoulder. It then leaned behind him and its form dissolved into black, merging with the shadow of Vrastus’ body.

  “Well?” Zorren asked as he lowered himself down into an empty chair.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Vrastus rubbed his neck and rolled his shoulder apathetically.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Why do we even bother with you…”

  “There was nothing important,” Vrastus corrected as he glared at Allan. “They were having a celebratory dinner. That is all.”

  “And what of Telhari?”

  “Nowhere to be found on the premises.”

  Zorren folded his hands.

  “Still?”

  Vrastus smiled.

  He had an unnatural sense for negative human emotion; he delighted in fear and worry as if they were sweet treats.

  “Are you concerned, dear Zorren?”

  “Are you not?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Oh?” Allan asked as he leaned in. “And why not?”

  “We have given nothing away,” Vrastus reasoned, “Least of all to Telhari. And I have done my very best to keep my presence hidden from him, as well as the others.”

  “Hmph!” Allan leaned back into the chair and tapped the arm rest. “Are you sure?”

  “Have either of Perry’s secret council made direct contact?” Vrastus picked at his nails as he spoke. “Even that elfkin was unaware.”

  “Eldrin is more of an academic,” Zorren added.

  Vrastus shrugged.

  “I had expected more from him. Those enchantments were quite tough to get through.”

  “And thanks to those enchantments, the council is suspicious.”

  “Blind suspicion means nothing on its own,” Vrastus said while crossing his legs. “I’ve told you what they said already. They were suspicious of Zorren even before Eldrin spoke of the break in.”

  Allan folded his arms.

  “And what of their plan? If they manage to use Perry’s influence and the influence of the Starspawn to gain power—”

  “That will never work!” Vrastus laughed as he waved his hand at Allan.

  “I disagree,” Zoren cut in.

  Vrastus raised his eyebrow at him.

  “It’s possible,” Zorren continued, “Rothwell, in his own way, has proved that.”

  “Those Iron Titans?” Vrastus asked.

  Zorren nodded.

  Vrastus rolled his eyes as he spoke.

  “Please.”

  “Have you looked into them as I’ve asked?”

  “I’ll get to it,” he answered dismissively with a wave of his hand.

  “I do not like unknown variables,” Zorren insisted. “Do not delay it any further.”

  “I am only one person, Zorren,” Vrastus mused sympathetically, “Please do not abuse my goodwill.”

  “Well then?” Allan cut in, looking over at Zorren. “What should we do about Perry?”

  “Why don’t I just kill everyone?” Vrastus offered. “Without Telhari there to defend them, it would be easy enough.”

  Zorren shook his head.

  “No matter how good you think you are, Perry will not go down without a fi—”

  “Ugh!” Vrastus slid down into the armchair like a disgruntled child. “Perry, Perry, Perry! I’ve seen his fight with Telhari. I know how to kill him. Unless of course…” Vrastus said through pursed lips, “You are apprehensive about taking the life of your old friend?”

  Zorren shot him a look.

  “Before we make an attempt to silence Perry, we must be absolutely certain.”

  “Certain of what?” Allan asked.

  “This is not simply about removing obstacles,” Zorren started. “It’s about securing all of our positions simultaneously. Once we make a move against Perry, there will be no going back. I want to make sure all our pawns are in place.”

  “Rothwell?”

  “Among others, yes.” Zorren then folded his arms in his lap. “Perry and the others are suspicious,” he continued, “Though I cannot say I am surprised. I have hardly ever been welcome in their little club. But even so, they do not have the resources right now to move against me. Of this, they are undoubtedly aware.”

  Vrastus groaned.

  “So then why don’t I—”

  “That gives us time to position ourselves,” Zorren said, cutting him off.

  “What more do we need to do?” Allan asked. “If we get rid of Perry and Rothwell, then Frederick will submit entirely.”

  “The end goal is not Viemen, Allan.”

  “Then what is your goal?” Vrastus asked, his crimson eye’s sparkling mischievously.

  Zorren thought a moment.

  As he sat there, another gust of wind bombarded the outside of the tower and blew into the room. Zorren stood up from the chair and walked over to the window, his robes billowing behind him. The whistling of the wind rose to a fever pitch as Zorren stared down at the city below.

  “My goal,” he said as he placed both hands on the wooden shutters, “Is Omnirius.”

  With that, he pulled the shutters closed and the room was silent.

  Vrastus’ eyes followed Zorren as he crossed the room and stopped in front of the fireplace.

  “That’s a bit more than I signed up for,” Vrastus said jokingly.

  Zorren held his hands up to the fire.

  “You are welcome to leave any time you wish.”

  “Hmph. You are no fun…”

  “This is no game,” Allan chastised.

  Zorren stared beyond his hands and into the flames. His eyes followed mindlessly the wisps of fire that danced upwards.

  “Not quite, Allan,” Zorren said as he folded his hands behind his back. “In fact, I believe the game is just beginning.”