He glanced at his attendant. That beautiful, horned-headed woman who had served him so long. That emotionless face, yet with eyes that betrayed a longing. Ingolsol knew how he felt. How could he not? He planted that very emotion in her, just as he had cultivated every aspect of his majestic throne room to be exactly as he wanted it to be.
That was Ingolsol's power, and its influence, and it extended to nearly half of the Realm of the Dark Gods, without hardly trying. They'd moved him here thousands of years ago, throwing him out of the heavens, and the very instant he'd set foot there, he'd seized what they had for himself.
"Claudia," Ingolsol said, speaking his words onto his parchment, knowing that they would reach her. "My power grows. You can no longer evade my voice. You know that I shall make my return. And when I do – you know that you shall have had a part in it."
Claudia did indeed hear, though she wished she did not have to listen.
