crown of self-interest

In the aftermath of their fleeting moment, the world had crept back in, heavy with the weight of responsibilities that neither Zaros nor Rielin could ignore. The fire that had burned between them that night had not dimmed, but it had been buried beneath layers of necessity and obligation.

Now, as dawn broke over Verathen, casting a blood-red light over the city, Zaros stood on the highest balcony of his tower. His eyes scanned the horizon, the cold wind tugging at his robes. Below him, the city moved with its usual pulse, unaware of the storm brewing just beyond their walls.

Rielin had healed from her wounds, her body as resilient as ever, but the fire in her spirit had only grown stronger since their last encounter. She stood beside him now, quiet, focused, her gaze locked on the same distant point as Zaros. There was something unspoken between them—an understanding of what must come next.

The Council of Elders had been crushed beneath Zaros’s heel, their deaths sending ripples through the political and magical networks across the world. It was no longer a matter of whether the factions would respond, but how. And Zaros, in his infinite foresight, was already moving the pieces on the board, positioning his forces for what was to come.

"I felt the stirrings," Rielin said, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, but there was a razor’s edge beneath it. "The Abyssal Collective, the Iron Dominion—they’re watching closely. Waiting for a crack."

Zaros didn’t respond immediately, his eyes narrowing as he felt the weight of the world pressing in on him. His thoughts drifted back to the night he had killed the Council, to the look of terror on their faces as he ended them with nothing more than a flicker of his will. To them, he had been a devil, a force of destruction they could not comprehend. And yet, their deaths had been necessary. His rise to power required sacrifices, and their arrogance had sealed their fate long before he’d set foot in their chambers.

"They’ll make their move soon," Zaros finally said, his voice cold and precise. "But it won’t matter. We’re already too far ahead."

Rielin tilted her head, her lips curling into a wry smile. "And what exactly is the next move? We've taken Verathen, silenced the Council. What's the endgame, Zaros? What do you want?"

Zaros turned to her, his expression unreadable, though there was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze—something vulnerable. "The world will know my name," he said quietly, almost as if to himself. "But more than that, I will have control. Over the cities, the kingdoms, the very fabric of magic itself. And no one will be able to challenge that control."

Rielin’s smile faded as she studied him, the depth of his ambition settling into her like a weight. She knew this drive of his, this unyielding desire to bend the world to his will. But beneath it, she also saw the fractures, the cracks in the armor that even he could not see. He hid it well, but every now and then, she glimpsed the man who had been broken, who had loved and lost, and who now sought to replace that emptiness with power.

"And what about the ones who oppose you?" Rielin asked softly. "The Abyssal Collective? The Iron Dominion? The Verdant Communion? They won’t stand by and let you reshape the world."

Zaros’s lips twisted into a thin smile. "They’ll try. But they’ll fail. They don’t understand what’s coming."

Rielin stepped closer to him, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And if they don’t fail? What then?"

Zaros turned his head to meet her gaze, and for a brief moment, the vulnerability was there again, raw and exposed. "Then I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure they do," he said, his voice quieter, more dangerous. "Even if it means destroying everything."

The weight of his words hung between them, thick and suffocating. Rielin studied him, her eyes searching for the man she had glimpsed that night in his chambers—the one who had allowed himself to be vulnerable, if only for a moment. But now, that man seemed distant, buried beneath layers of cold logic and unrelenting ambition.

Still, she could not deny the pull she felt toward him, the bond they shared that went beyond words or even loyalty. It was something deeper, more primal, and it frightened her as much as it thrilled her.

"We need to move soon," Zaros said, turning his gaze back to the horizon. "The factions will begin to position themselves, and I won’t give them the chance to organize. The Abyssal Collective will be our first target. They’ve been a thorn in my side for too long."

Rielin nodded, her mind already racing with the strategies they would need to employ. "And the others?"

"They’ll fall in line once the Collective is dealt with," Zaros said confidently. "One decisive strike will send a message to the world."

There was a coldness to his tone that made Rielin’s skin prickle. She knew he was right—his power was unmatched, his strategy flawless. But there was something else brewing beneath the surface, something darker and more dangerous than even Zaros himself seemed to realize.

And yet, she stayed by his side, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. For better or worse, she was bound to him now, and whatever path he chose, she would walk it with him.

As the sun began to rise fully, casting its light over the city below, Zaros turned away from the balcony, his decision made.

"It’s time," he said quietly. "We make our move tonight."

Rielin nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. The world was watching, waiting for a sign of weakness, for an opening they could exploit. But Zaros would not give them that chance. He would bend the world to his will, or he would burn it down trying.

And in the end, Rielin knew, there was no stopping him.