What a grand scheme and stratagem it was, spanning a millennium, intricate as grass-entwined serpents. Using the countless souls of the Empire as chess pieces, using himself as bait to invite the world into the game. What majestic ambition. Compared to the imposing stature now revealed by the Lord of Ashes, all others—be they other evil cults, the Abyss, or even the ancient and secretive Golden Dawn—seemed somewhat diminutive.
Such conjecture, though born somewhat hollow, became more substantial as Tarik's guesses were filled out by details from his memories. In the midst of such mental turmoil, Tarik couldn't even register the burning sensation from the sea of black flames enveloping him. He abruptly retrieved his staff, his fervent gaze fixed on the figure bathed in black flames behind him.
"Respected Ashes Divine Progeny," he began, "by a stroke of fortune, I have glimpsed but the tip of the iceberg of your father's thousand-year plan.
