The chamber beneath the throne was colder, quieter — built of obsidian stone and etched with ancient lines of silver that pulsed faintly with magic. The circular table at the center was a relic older than the Empire itself.
A map of the known world lay projected above it — territories glowing in gold, red, and bone white.
Emperor Julius stood across from Aden, arms folded, gazing at the cursed territory etched in black fog on the map's lower quadrant: Dahaka.
Aden's gaze settled on Sector Twelve — the northern crescent of the zone, marked only with the Imperial seal and the faded warning: Unexplored — No Contact.
Egmund: 'You sure you wanna open this can, partner?'
Aden: 'If we wait, someone else will. And they won't ask for permission.'
Aden cleared his throat. "There's something in Sector Twelve. Multiple things, actually."
The Emperor raised an eyebrow, but didn't speak. He let Aden continue.
"There are Knight Crawlers—modified knights, half-flesh, half-metal. Things that used to be people. They don't die easy. They don't think like soldiers. They hunt like wolves."
Julius' eyes narrowed slightly.
"Deeper in, there's a High Lich cult. Necromancers who've been studying ways to manipulate the Void through something they call Soul Threading. They've got a stronghold — a temple built into the side of a dead mountain. It pulses with ritual magic."
A few of the robed figures stirred.
"You say that like you've seen it," Julius said.
Aden hesitated, then replied evenly. "Call it instinct. Or something worse. But I know what's there. I've seen what happens if it's left unchecked."
"And?" Julius asked, voice unreadable.
"The barrier around Sector Twelve is cracking. The wards are decaying. When it breaks… you won't be fighting them inside Dahaka. You'll be fighting them in the capital."
Julius was quiet. He looked down at the map, tapping Sector Twelve with a slow, rhythmic finger.
"The Crawlers… we've intercepted whispers about them," he admitted. "Survivors speak of things that bleed silver. We dismissed it as madness."
"It's not," Aden said. "And if you wait for it to reach your doorstep, it'll be too late."
Julius stared at him, calculating. "And what do you want, Aden Vasco?"
Aden met his gaze without flinching. "Autonomy. Command of the Twelfth Seat's army. Access to classified maps and sealed archives. And no leash on me when I go in."
Egmund: 'You forgot to ask for a horse with a flame mane.'
Aden: 'One thing at a time.'
Egmund: 'That's supposed to be a metaphor, you know.'
Aden: 'I know.'
"You ask for a lot," Julius said.
"You gave me a title soaked in blood," Aden replied. "Let me put it to use."
Julius let out a quiet breath. It wasn't quite a sigh — more like the exhale of a man tired of pretending he had all the answers.
"The nobles will panic. If I announce this too publicly, they'll call it fear-mongering. Accuse you of staging it."
"Then don't announce anything," Aden said. "Let me go. Quietly. I'll bring back proof."
Julius turned to his advisors. None spoke, but one gave a subtle nod.
The Emperor returned his attention to Aden. "Fine. You'll get your force. Not a full legion, but enough to scout and survive."
"And the records?" Aden asked.
"I'll grant you restricted access to the Archive of Blades. But if you leak what's in there, not even your bloodline will save you."
Aden's lip curled. "Deal."
The Emperor walked slowly to the edge of the map and reached for a chained scroll case — inside, a ring of sealed tokens. He plucked one free and held it out.
Black steel, inlaid with the same crest as Aden's medallion — but deeper, older.
"This is your signet," Julius said. "It gives you the authority of the Twelfth Seat in times of war."
Aden took it. It was heavier than it looked.
"Twelfth Seat," the Emperor said quietly, "show me what kind of monster you are when you're pointed at the dark."
Aden tucked the ring inside his coat. "You'll get your answer. Just hope you like it."
Egmund: 'Damn. That's the kind of line that needs thunder behind it.'
Aden: 'Save the thunder. We'll need it in Sector Twelve.'
As the door closed behind him and the war room dimmed again, Aden stepped back into the cold hallway — but something inside him had shifted.
He was no longer just a player in someone else's game.
He was the storm at its center.
And now, the monsters in the dark would learn they weren't the only ones watching.