Chapter 26 {Mortis's Pov}:

 The incense spiraled lazily in the suffocating stillness of my office, its cloying scent doing little to calm the rage simmering beneath my composed exterior. My fingers danced along the edge of the obsidian desk, tracing the grooves of its intricate carvings as I stretched my awareness outward.

Something was amiss.

No, not merely amiss—irreparably wrong.

The threads of the curse I had so masterfully bound to that insufferable dragon had been severed. A spell woven with the precision of an artist and the cruelty of a god, undone by some pathetic act of defiance. It was an insult. A blight upon my perfect design.

I rose slowly, my movements deliberate, my shadows curling around me like obedient pets. My lips parted into a cruel smirk, though my fury simmered beneath the surface, waiting to erupt.

"Citrus," I said, my voice calm and chilling, resonating through the vastness of the spire.

Within moments, the doors to my sanctum were pushed open, and my so-called "puppet" stumbled in. He looked disheveled, as always, though he attempted to mask his terror with a poorly constructed facade of confidence.

"My lord," he said, bowing low, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

I stepped forward, my boots clicking against the pristine marble floor. "You disappoint me, Citrus," I began, my tone venomously smooth. "Tell me, have you grown blind, deaf, or simply incompetent? Surely, there must be a reason for your staggering failure."

Citrus flinched. "My lord, I assure you, I've been keeping a close eye on them—"

Smack.

The back of my hand connected with his face before he could finish his pathetic excuse. He staggered, clutching his cheek, blood trickling from the corner of his lips as he fell to his knees.

"You've been keeping a close eye on them?" I repeated, mockery dripping from every syllable. "Then how, pray tell, has Xenos been freed of his curse? How, under your careful 'watch,' have they managed to unravel my work? Enlighten me, Citrus. I am dying to hear your explanation."

"My lord," he croaked, his voice shaking as he tried to lift himself. "I... I didn't know. They must have—"

"Enough."

The single word was a whip crack, and he froze in place.

"You have failed me," I said, leaning closer so he could feel the weight of my disdain. "And failure is not something I tolerate. You exist at my pleasure, Citrus, and that pleasure is rapidly diminishing."

I straightened, brushing nonexistent dust from my sleeve, and extended a hand. Shadows coiled around his throat, lifting him effortlessly from the ground. He clawed at the tendrils, his face turning red as he gasped for air.

"You will not make excuses," I continued, my voice calm and cruel. "You will not 'fix' this unless I command it. You are but a pawn, Citrus, and pawns do not act of their own accord."

With a flick of my wrist, I released him, watching dispassionately as he collapsed to the floor, coughing and sputtering like the pathetic creature he was.

"Get out of my sight," I said, turning away from him. "Before I decide you're more useful dead."

He scrambled to his feet, muttering frantic apologies as he stumbled out of the room.

Alone once more, I returned to my desk, the smirk returning to my lips.

They thought they could defy me. How quaint.

I would remind them all of their place soon enough. And when the chosen one knelt before me, broken and defeated, I would savor the moment with the relish of a god.

"Let them think they've won," I murmured to the empty room. "Their hope will make their destruction all the sweeter."

A devilish grin tugged at my lips as the solution crystallized in my mind. Ah, yes. If the little chosen one wanted to meddle in affairs far beyond her comprehension, she would learn her lesson the hard way. I would break her spirit and twist her will until she begged for mercy—a mercy I would never grant.

"Citrus," I called, my voice slicing through the air like a blade.

He stumbled back into the room, his face pale and bruised from our earlier… discussion. His unease amused me.

"Y-Yes, my lord?" he stammered, bowing deeply, his body trembling like a leaf in the wind.

I leaned back in my chair, my fingers tapping rhythmically against the armest. "I've had an epiphany," I began, my tone deceptively casual. "The chosen one has become far too bold for her own good. It's time we reminded her of the price of defiance."

Citrus swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. "What would you have me do, my lord?"

I allowed the silence to stretch, relishing the weight of his growing dread. Finally, I rose to my feet, towering over him, and spoke with deliberate menace.

"You will abduct her," I said, each word sharp and precise. "Take her to the basement of your mansion. Chain her. Break her. Make her suffer until she reveals how she cured Xenos. Leave no stone unturned, no measure unexplored. Do I make myself clear?"

His eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, I thought he might faint. "M-My lord," he stuttered, "that... that might provoke Xenos, or worse, the gods—"

Smack.

The sound of my hand meeting his cheek echoed through the room, and he crumpled to the floor. I loomed over him, my voice colder than the void.

"Do you dare question me, Citrus? Do you forget your place so easily?"

"N-No, my lord," he whimpered, clutching his face.

I crouched beside him, gripping his jaw tightly so he was forced to look into my eyes. "If you fail me again," I whispered, my tone as venomous as a serpent's bite, "you will experience a torment so profound, even the gods will look away in pity. Do you understand me?"

He nodded frantically, his breath hitching in terror.

"Good," I said, releasing him with a shove. "Now go. Make preparations. And remember—she must remain alive. For now."

Citrus scrambled to his feet and bolted from the room, his fear palpable.

Alone once more, I allowed myself a moment of satisfaction. The thought of the chosen one in chains, her spirit broken, filled me with dark glee.

"Let her regret every foolish choice she's made," I murmured to the shadows. "And when she has nothing left, she will know who truly holds the power in this world."

As I leaned back in my grand chair, the cold, calculated smile that spread across my face felt almost natural. Citrus's retreating footsteps echoed through the halls, but I barely noticed. The game had shifted. The little girl—Sage—thought she had gained an advantage over me, but she would soon learn the true cost of defiance. I would make her regret this foolishness. Her cure for Xenos would be nothing more than a fleeting victory.

I called for my servants to prepare the necessary arrangements. Citrus would find her, and once she was in my grasp, I would have the answers I so desired. Let her experience the full extent of my power. Let her see that there are far worse things than death.

Yes, they would all learn the consequences of crossing me. And they would learn soon enough.

The flames in the hearth flickered as I leaned forward, my eyes dark with malicious intent. My plans were set into motion. Now, I would enjoy watching them unravel.

Let the game begin.