The air inside the obsidian throne room of Cellok was still as stone, heavy with centuries of memory. The walls glowed faintly with the pulse of the black tree at the city’s heart, Evilside’s essence weaving through the roots, the veins, the very bones of her realm.From the open terrace, the faint clang of steel drifted upward, Snake and Dragon sparring in the weapons hall below. Their laughter, distant but clear, reached even here, breaking through the ancient quiet.Evilside stood by the great window, her raven dark hair falling like a river of nightlight down her dark robes. Chains of rusted steel hung loosely around her wrists, old symbols of grief she had never removed. Her gaze lingered on the courtyard, on the faint outlines of her assassins, her children, moving beneath the glow of torchlight.“You still watch him,” came a voice from behind, soft yet edged with iron.Evilside did not turn. “He carries what I no longer can.”The roots parted, and Queen Doom of Doomsany stepped

The gates of Cellok loomed like jagged teeth, veined with silver roots that pulsed faintly under the moonless sky. The air there always carried a taste of ash and prophecy, a place where whispers became truth and death was only ever delayed.Snake and Dragon approached on foot, the echo of their boots swallowed by fog. They both halted as a figure emerged from the darkness, his steps too quiet for a man his size.Slice Liroid.The stories never did him justice.He was tall, unnervingly beautiful, the kind of beauty that seemed deliberately cruel. His sky blue hair was cut short, his sharp features carved with surgical precision, and his eyes, dark as obsidian, glowed faintly with a predatory calm. Every movement he made was measured, perfect, like a weapon built by the gods and sharpened by silence.Snake’s serpents stirred restlessly beneath his cloak. Dragon just whistled. “Still the same cursed perfection,” he muttered. “Makes the rest of us look like barn rats.”Slice smirked fain

The sea was black that night, no stars, no moon, only the whisper of waves like dying prayers. Their vessel cut through the gloom like a shadow on the edge of memory. Three figures stood upon its deck: Snake, cloaked in silence; Dragon, restless and muttering; and Slice, the immortal hunting dog whose presence bent the air around him.The journey to the Isle of Darkness was not one of distance, but of descent. The waters themselves seemed to thicken the closer they drew, as if reluctant to reveal what lay beyond. A faint glow rose from beneath the waves, pale and cold, as though the ocean carried the light of the dead.Slice stood at the bow, unmoving. His silver eyes reflected the distant shoreline, a black expanse crowned with citadels of bone-white stone. His voice, when it came, was steady and low.“Evilside built this place as a sanctuary and a snare. The Divine Liroids call it paradise. But we, who serve her, know it for what it is.”Snake looked at him from beneath his hood. “A

Bioluminescent lilies rippling across black waters. The island pulsed with life, its people flawless as carved obsidian, their laughter as sharp as daggers.Inside the grand hall, Snake leaned lazily against a marble column as Flavor Liroid poured him a goblet of blood-wine. The scent of lilac and iron filled the air, faint and intoxicating. The atmosphere was almost light, a reprieve from the heaviness of the goddess’s will.The peace didn’t last long.A tall, golden-eyed man swept into the room, his long crimson cloak trailing behind him like fire. He bore the same unnerving beauty as Flavor, but his smile carried mischief, too smooth, too sure.“Ah, if it isn’t my grandfather hosting guests without me,” he said, bowing with exaggerated grace. “Tell me, Lord Flavor, where has Slice disappeared to this time? Shouldn’t our leader be training the young dogs instead of roaming off with assassins?”Flavor didn’t look up from his cup. “Go play among your fifty concubines, Forbidden. Leave

The halls of Mogro’s High Court shimmered with golden light, polished marble floors reflecting the radiance of a thousand eternal torches. The air was perfumed with incense and tension. Musicians played softly, plucking at silver strings, though not one dared look toward the throne.For on it sat Tan, the Crane God, radiant, cruel, beautiful. His brown hair spilled over his shoulders like molten sunlight, his eyes bright with a mirth only the wicked could love. Around him stood his council, silent, rigid, awaiting his word.At the foot of the throne knelt Branch, the god of Obedience, clad in robes of ash and silver. His tone was even, but his jaw was tight.“My lord… what you have done defies even your own boundaries.”Tan laughed, the sound bright and cutting. “Boundaries? I am the god of trouble, Branch. I do not obey boundaries. I make them bleed.”Branch lowered his gaze. “The child you conceived with Deem Liroid was no ordinary trespass. She was the blood of Evilside’s house. Yo