His hand clenched into a fist, and cracks spiderwebbed across the mirror's surface. "When I do, they will know the true meaning of loss. Of grief. Of a pain that echoes through millennia."
For a moment, Duncan stood perfectly still, the weight of countless years pressing down upon him. Then, with visible effort, he composed himself. The mask of cool indifference slid back into place, hiding the tempest of emotions that raged beneath.
Duncan glided to his desk, running a finger along the smooth, polished wood. Plans within plans, centuries in the making, were finally coming to fruition. The world that had forced him into the shadows would soon learn the folly of their actions.
"Vanity... All will be vanity when I'm done," he vowed to the empty room, his voice a silken caress filled with dark promise. "And I will take so much more."
