Beneath the ruined citadel, within a sanctuary hidden from even her most loyal followers, Malveth awoke.
She sat on a bed of obsidian roses—each petal carved with runes of protection, love, and sacrifice.
Her body ached.
Her soul trembled.
But her eyes… burned with clarity.
> "The ritual failed," whispered one of her high priests.
Malveth shook her head.
> "No. It succeeded in part. He heard me."
"And now… he begins to doubt."
---
A Family of Shadows
She stood among the orphans she had raised—children discarded by the world.
Each one wore black, wielded blades larger than their bodies, and bore eyes filled with love for their savior.
> "You are my garden," Malveth said softly.
"Bloom in darkness. Thrive in fire."
A girl stepped forward—no older than ten—with twin daggers and a jagged scar down her cheek.
> "Do we move now, Mother?"
Malveth knelt before her and brushed the child's hair back.
> "Soon. But first… we teach them fear."
---
The Fanatic's Fire
Among her elite, one stood apart.
A boy of sixteen with crimson eyes and a grin too wide.
> "If he still resists, Lady Malveth," he whispered, "should I burn the cities for you?"
She placed a hand on his cheek.
> "No, my dear. Not yet."
> "Serian still breathes."
"And until he remembers who he was, he must be protected—even from us."
The boy's grin widened.
> "Ah… love."
---
Preparing for War
In secret tunnels and hidden mountains, her army trained.
Not just in combat, but in devotion.
To her.
To their cause.
To the dream of a world where the forgotten were never forgotten again.
> "We are not evil," she told them.
"We are the abandoned, the cast-off, the broken… and we will become their reckoning."
---
Echoes of the Original
That night, as Malveth stared into the flame-lit pool, she saw Serian again.
His image flickered, troubled, confused… and glorious.
And behind him, hidden in shadow, a third face smiled.
The Original.
Watching them both.
Waiting.
---