The Vault of Endless Want was darker than usual.
Greed had dimmed the stars—not to hide, but to focus. The six sins stood in a circle, each radiating their vice like a poison mist. Wrath's fists crackled with heat. Lust's veil shimmered with illusions. Envy's mirrorblade pulsed with mimicry. Gluttony's form shifted, mouths opening and closing in anticipation. Sloth hovered like a fog, barely present but deeply felt.
They did not speak of justice.
They spoke of balance.
"Pride has forgotten we are one," Envy said, voice trembling with stolen cadence.
"Pride has never remembered," Lust replied, her tone a velvet dagger.
Greed stepped forward, holding a scroll etched in contracts older than time. "We do not need to destroy Pride. We need to dethrone it."
Wrath growled. "I will burn the throne to ash."
"No," Greed said. "We must make Pride fall—not by force, but by proof."
Sloth drifted closer. "Let him move. Let him speak. Let him fight. And let him fail."
Gluttony opened its Maw, swallowing the silence. "I will consume what remains."
The pact was sealed—not with blood, but with intent. Each sin would strike in sequence, coordinated and precise. Wrath would break the gates. Lust would cloud the mind. Greed would sever power. Envy would mimic and confuse. Gluttony would devour the realm. Sloth would erode the will.
And Pride would fall.
They placed their hands—claws, veils, blades, fog—upon the scroll.
It burned with agreement.
Above them, the stars flickered.
And in the Palace of Mirrors, Pride stirred.