69

Manerkol holds his black saber out in front of him, the blade held parallel to his body. The Onyx Soul Stone pulses with immense bursts of power that would have ripped any ordinary man off his feet. But Manerkol is not an ordinary man.

He keeps his red eyes closed; all that he needs to see is clear in his mind's eye. He sees the decrepit town of Shar's Port, where the lost and the broken converge. And beyond that, across the treacherous waters of the bay, he sees a little barge holding the pieces that will bring him one step closer to completing his grand design—the plan that he has cultivated over millennia. The plan that will at last give him dominion over all, not just of this country, but of the entire known world.

Everyone will bow down to his design. All he has to do is set the pieces in motion.

He has waited for this long enough. He has pushed and pushed the Soul Stone to give clearer, stronger visions of the future. And it has. The cost it has extracted from him in return is worth it. But despite all its might, the Onyx could not tell him when the perfect time would come.

So he had waited. Bided his time. Made sure that he would find out the moment they appeared.

And his patience has paid off. All that is left is one last little move, one last pawn to be locked into place.

Manerkol grins, his lips stretched in a beautiful smile that promises nothing but horror. This is going to be too easy.

~*~

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