The grand hall of the Mage Tower was a place of power, filled with intricate carvings and glistening jewels, symbols of the Mage Lords' centuries of unchallenged rule. Tall columns of marble stretched up to a ceiling lost in shadow, while arcane symbols flickered faintly on the walls, illuminating the gathered council. The air was thick with the scent of incense and the subtle hum of untamed magic.
Kaelen stood before the council, his gaze unwavering as the Lords of Cadris, draped in their regal robes of crimson and gold, regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. He could hear the faint whispers behind him as his entrance had sent ripples through the room. There were some who thought he was a mere fool—someone trying to seize power where none existed. But Kaelen knew better. He knew that to play the game of thrones, one had to manipulate perception, to hide one's true intentions behind layers of lies and half-truths. And for now, Kaelen would be a shadow, a whisper in the dark.
Lord Clyden, the leader of the Mage Lords, was the first to speak. His deep-set eyes bore into Kaelen, his lips curling into a tight, mocking smile.
"You've made quite an impression," Clyden said, his voice dripping with condescension. "A so-called emissary, appearing out of nowhere, spouting threats. What is it you seek, shadow-walker?"
Kaelen's lips curled into the faintest smile, his tone smooth, almost silky. "I seek nothing more than the truth, my lord. But truth, as you well know, is a dangerous thing. It has a way of unraveling what was once thought unbreakable."
The Mage Lords exchanged glances, their expressions shifting slightly. Kaelen could feel the momentary hesitation in their eyes. They were intrigued—perhaps even unsettled. This was precisely what he wanted.
"You come here with your riddles and your empty words," one of the Lords, a tall woman with silver hair and piercing violet eyes, said sharply. "If you have something of value to say, speak plainly, or leave."
Kaelen turned his attention to her, his gaze cold, calculating. "You're quick to dismiss, Lady Seraphine. But perhaps that's because the truth is too inconvenient for you. You've grown too comfortable in your power, too accustomed to thinking you can control everything and everyone."
He let the words hang in the air like a heavy fog. The room shifted as the Lords exchanged more wary glances. Kaelen's reputation had preceded him, and though they might try to dismiss him, they knew that underestimating him would be their undoing.
Lord Clyden's voice broke through the tension, his tone less condescending now, more wary. "Enough games. Speak quickly, or I will have you removed from this place."
Kaelen took a slow step forward, his presence growing as the orb at his side pulsed faintly. It had been a month since he had taken it from the Gorlith Ruins, and already it had begun to weave its magic into him, pulling at the edges of his mind, urging him to push forward. But he had control—for now.
"I've heard the whispers," Kaelen continued, his voice low but commanding. "The Guilds, the mercenaries, the mages in every corner of Cadris—they all speak of a new threat rising in the shadows. A threat that the Mage Lords are too blind to see. They fear me, not because I am strong, but because I have seen what you refuse to acknowledge."
The tension in the room was palpable. The Lords looked between each other, their minds working furiously to piece together what Kaelen was truly saying.
"What are you suggesting?" Lady Seraphine asked, her voice cool but now laced with a touch of uncertainty. "That we should simply step aside and let you take our place? We are the ones who have ruled Cadris for centuries, and we will not be threatened by a mere shadow."
Kaelen's smile widened, but it wasn't one of warmth. It was cold, dangerous, like a wolf cornering its prey. "You misunderstand. I don't want your throne. I want what is rightfully mine. You sit on a foundation of lies, of magic that you don't understand. You think yourselves invincible, but you are not. You are decaying from the inside, and you don't even know it."
"Enough," Lord Clyden roared, slamming his fist onto the stone table. "If you have a point to make, make it now, or I will—"
Kaelen raised his hand, and the entire hall fell silent. The room seemed to pulse with a strange energy as Kaelen's eyes locked with Clyden's, the power of the orb thrumming beneath his skin. The air itself seemed to bend to Kaelen's will as he spoke, his words carrying the weight of ancient truths.
"The truth is this: you are dying. Every one of you. The magic that binds this land, the power you've taken for granted—it is decaying. And you, the Mage Lords, have become its parasites. You sit on thrones built on the suffering of others, on the backs of those who were once your allies, your subjects. The artifacts you covet, the power you hoard—it will destroy you in the end."
A murmur of disbelief rippled through the room. Kaelen could see their shock, their incredulity. But he also saw something else—fear. The Mage Lords had spent their lives bending the world to their will, convinced that their rule was unbreakable. But Kaelen had come to show them otherwise.
"You think the threat is from some rogue faction, some enemy you can crush underfoot," Kaelen continued, his voice steady, "but it is not. The true enemy is the one you have ignored, the power that has been growing in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself. And that power... is mine."
There was a long, heavy silence before Clyden spoke again, his voice tight with barely-contained fury. "You would dare—"
"No, Lord Clyden," Kaelen interrupted, his voice colder than the winter's breath. "I would dare because I *am* the one who dares. And you… you are the ones who have already lost."
With that, Kaelen turned and began walking toward the exit. The chamber was deathly silent as he passed through the line of Lords, their stunned expressions following him, but none daring to challenge him. Not yet. The seed of doubt had been planted. The Mage Lords might not yet see him as a true threat, but they would.
And that was all Kaelen needed.
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Later that night, as the city of Cadris slumbered under the shroud of darkness, Kaelen sat alone in his chambers, the orb resting on a stone pedestal before him. The weight of the artifact pulsed through his fingertips, the magic inside it growing ever stronger. But Kaelen knew this was only the beginning.
The Mage Lords were not yet ready to surrender, and they were not yet ready to acknowledge the truth. They would come for him. But Kaelen was prepared. They would come, and they would fall, one by one.
The web was tightening.
And soon, the trap would spring.
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