In the circular chamber drowned in crimson light, a sphere of flowing silver, tainted with threads of black, hovered above the dais.
At the entrance, with his back resting casually against the wall, a boy who looked no older than sixteen stood in silence. His eyes, pale and colorless, stayed fixed unblinking on the Serpent King's Elemental Domain, as if he could see through it.
'Following Aeon cost me a Gold-grade wish, but taking the slate from him will be worth the price,' Zarach thought, anticipation simmering beneath his still expression. The delightful moment he could envision was almost here.
He tilted his chin upward, watching the strands of his own fate. Colorless strings stretched from him like straws of a puppet, but creeping darkness had begun to stain some of them, inch by inch, growing ever closer to him.
'I do have to be careful, my fate still points to my death in some time,' He mused silently.
