Dark Parasyte

Upon his return to Raven's Nest, Corvin moved with the precision of one who knew every stone of his citadel. His footsteps echoed down the familiar corridors, their cadence sharp against the hushed atmosphere of the keep. The weight of Nefrath's slaughter still clung to him like a cloak, power absorbed, victories carved into his bones. Yet here, within the walls of his domain, there was calm, order, and the subtle thrum of expansion. He entered his study, the chamber lit by the pale glow of runes set into the walls, and with but a flick of his hand summoned his shadows.

The air rippled, and six figures emerged silently from the darkness, kneeling in perfect unison. At their head stood Goras Olafir, the lean and sharp eyed leader of his 'loyal' shadow cell. He bowed deeply, voice low, reverent, but carrying the clipped precision of a report prepared in full.

"Your Grace," Goras began, his words carrying the weight of weeks' worth of observation. "In your absence, no major disturbance has touched the domain. All continues according to your design. Archmagus Vaelorin has assumed the role of spokesperson, pressing Magistra Valyne aside, though Magus Laevior refuses to let him wield authority alone. Their disputes have grown constant, every decision, from the allocation of warehouses to the composition of trade records, has become a point of contention. Their bickering has been contained within the sutdy, but it is… spirited."

Corvin's lips curved faintly. The image of the two of them, Vaelorin, stern and uncompromising, clashing against Laevior's polished courtesy and stubborn insistence was amusing. Two peacocks fighting over territory, all plumes and hisses, snapping at each other over scraps. Dignitaries locked in petty squabbles, and yet each too proud to admit it.

Goras continued, his report flowing without pause. "Trade ships from Thalasien have arrived with greater frequency. They dock and load goods in accordance with the treaties signed. Two full harvests have already been brought in by your subjects from the farmlands and orchards. They wait only for you to transfer the yield into the enchanted warehouses, where they will be preserved for season after season. On another matter, Archmagus Vaelorin has begun the construction of the Synod's base, establishing it in the northern quarter of the domain. Magus Laevior, in contrast, has taken upon himself the task of 'gracing' the domain with three High Elven magistras, and he waits for you to meet them in person. Lastly, nearly two thousand civilians have arrived from Thalasien, both Dark and High Elves together. Your magi have set about the construction of their homes, raising streets and structures with the infrastructure you previously dictated. As for Archmagus Sythara, she has returned to Savaryn."

Corvin listened in silence, absorbing each word. Everything was unfolding exactly as he had woven it. Trade flowing, settlements growing, and the Dominion and Synod already extending roots into the foundations of his realm. Even so, the mention of Sythara's departure left him with a flicker of dissatisfaction. He leaned back, fingers drumming against the carved wood of his chair. Pity, he mused. Her exotic beauty, her intoxicating presence, the thrill of bending her 'will' beneath his own dominance... all wrapped in the mask of 'diplomacy.' Negotiations had rarely been so gratifying. And now, she was gone. The smile that curved across his mouth was edged with amusement. Diplomatic ties should be… enjoyable. It is unfortunate when they depart too soon.

He let the smirk linger, eyes narrowing with thought. If Sythara was absent, then perhaps it was time to expand his circle of companions. After all, Laevior had not crossed half of Thalasien merely to posture, he had brought offerings, and three High Elven magistras were now within Raven's Nest awaiting presentation. Corvin's curiosity stirred. Who had the Dominion chosen to send? What faces, what beauties had they deemed worthy to offer to a Planarch?

Already, he could imagine Valyne's reaction when she discovered this development. Her composure would crack, jealousy simmering beneath her defiant surface. She might not yet understand the weight of her own feelings, but Corvin did. Jealousy suited her well, it made her fire burn brighter. The thought coaxed a low chuckle from his lips, dark and amused, as he rose from his chair. He would meet the magistras soon enough. And in doing so, he would set another piece of his game into motion.

--

Valyne was no longer certain what her place in Raven's Nest truly was. Since the Arbiter's arrival and the humiliation she had suffered at Solen's mocking words, her heart had been unsettled. In her doubt, she sought out Thaelys Silvernight, who listened to her recount the summons and the Arbiter's cruelty with that detached calm only Thaelys possessed. When Valyne finished, Thaelys merely scoffed, lips curling in disdain, then without further preamble led Valyne to Vaelorin's study.

The Archmagus was still burning with rage from the meeting, his expression thunderous, his eyes sharp enough to cut glass. He turned his gaze upon Valyne, and the fire in his voice made the chamber vibrate. "You will remain close to Corvin."

Valyne bowed her head, murmuring, "Yes, Archmagus."

Vaelorin's tone hardened. "Do you understand, Magistra? I said you will stay close."

Valyne raised her head, her turquoise eyes shimmering with conflicting emotions. Defiance glinted there, mingled with sadness, her angelic face caught between pride and obedience. For a moment she seemed on the verge of speaking out, but at last she only gave a quiet nod of assent.

Vaelorin's expression softened into something resembling a smile. "I can see why the Raven keeps you near. You are a rare sight, honesty and naivety both, a rarity in Verthalis. But remember, our dear cousins from the north have already sent magistras to achieve what we desire of you. Magus Laevior awaits our host's return to present them. Keep this knowledge in your mind, Magistra, or you may find yourself without place in this nest of ravens."

Dismissed, Valyne returned to her quarters, her thoughts heavy. She sat on her bed and closed her large turquoise eyes, her heart twisting. She did not want what bound her to Corvin to be artificial, a role forced upon her because of orders whispered by others. No, she wanted it to be something natural, effortless, as unbidden as aether itself. That was her desire, though she dared not voice it.

With a groan, she sat up sharply. "Maybe it's time to see what Kaelyn thinks of all this," she muttered to herself. The thought of her friend gave her energy, and soon she was on her feet, stomping toward Kaelyn's quarters. Yet as she walked the winding halls of the castle, her mood shifted, indignation bubbling to the surface. She cursed under her breath like a drunk sailor in a dockside tavern, grumbling at the stone walls and echoing corridors.

"Why in the name of Dark Mother would he place my quarters and Kaelyn's so far apart? Is he trying to make me collapse from exhaustion before I can even complain properly? By the stars, I swear this entire castle was designed to torment me! Ravens, ha! More like a nest of sadist featherballs with a sense of humor!"

Her mutterings followed her down the passageways, half fury, half comedy, until the heaviness in her chest felt lighter. She cursed Corvin, cursed his castle, cursed every damned stair she had to climb, but there was laughter in the edges of her voice now. By the time she neared Kaelyn's door, she had almost convinced herself she would burst in cursing the Planarch's name so loudly the whole wing would hear it.

--

After moving the harvest from his farms, orchards, and barns into the underground warehouses, Corvin went back to his study. The room was dim, lit only by faint lanterns, the shadows stretching across the stone walls. The smell of old parchment and ink filled the air, reminding him that power here was shaped not only by battles but also by decisions and words. With a simple motion, he summoned Vaelorin. The Archmagus entered with Thaelys at his side. Both wore serious looks, prepared for the conversation ahead. They spoke of the Dark Elven civilians and their role and homes in his domain. Synod's militaristic readiness for the invasion. Corvin studied both carefully, letting the silence stretch long enough to make Vaelorin uneasy before inviting him to speak.

Vaelorin spoke first, his tone respectful but filled with pride and stubbornness. "Obsidian Gate has promised four full legions under your command, each with three thousand Dark Elves. They will be ready to march as soon as the Pioneers cross the gate. With them, no one could stand against you." He straightened his shoulders, as if expecting thanks for bringing such news.

Corvin leaned back in his chair, his silver eyes steady, voice quiet but firm. "Four legions are too many. I only want one." The bluntness of the reply made Thaelys glance at the Archmagus, waiting for his reaction.

Vaelorin frowned, his voice growing sharper, unable to hide his irritation. "One? Planarch, this is not the time for caution. Every sword may decide the outcome. Refusing more troops weakens us before the invasion." He leaned forward, passion blazing, clearly believing he was speaking sense.

Corvin's gaze stayed firm, cold as steel. "You mistake control for weakness. I do not need four legions to do what I must. One is enough. More would only slow me down. Give the rest to other forces of Synod." His words cut through Vaelorin's protests, leaving no room for argument.

The words hung in the air like stone. At last, Vaelorin lowered his head. "As you command, Planarch," he said, though his eyes showed the frustration he tried to hide. The Archmagus' jaw clenched, but he dared not speak further.

When they left, the study was silent again until Corvin called for another guest. Laevior arrived, proud as always, with three High Elven magistras following him. Each one was strikingly beautiful, their elegance clear, their robes shimmering in the lantern light. They were not simple attendants, they were gifts, carefully chosen by the Dominion to catch Corvin's attention and tie him closer to their cause. Their posture was perfect, their expressions serene, but their eyes betrayed nervousness.

Corvin wasted no time. His silver eyes glowed as he used Mind Walk, reaching into their thoughts. The truth spilled out easily: their orders were to stay close to him, seduce him, carry his child, and report his every move to Laevior and Kelorien Heartleaf. He saw their doubts, their rehearsed smiles, their hidden fear of failing their mission.

Corvin exhaled and looked at Laevior. His voice was low, steady, but filled with anger. "Magus, have I ever played politics with you or your Dominion?"

Laevior opened his mouth, but Corvin cut him off. "Then why send spies into my hall? Why insult me to my face? Do you think I won't shed Elven blood if I must?" His tone darkened, the lanterns seeming to flicker as his words filled the room with menace.

He stood, his tone like a hammer striking down. "You and your followers are no longer welcome in this castle. The Aurelian estate is ready for you, go there. Tell your Dominion of your failure. Let them send someone wiser, someone who won't treat me with such games."

The words hit like a blade. Laevior's pride cracked, his earlier confidence draining away. He closed his eyes, remembering Kelorien's warning not to take such risks. He had ignored it, convinced he could outplay the Raven. Now the weight of his mistake crushed him, leaving him humbled. "As you command, Planarch," he said quietly. He bowed, shallow and ashamed. The magistras lowered their eyes and left with him, their silence proof of their defeat. Their departure felt more like an exile than a retreat.

When the chamber was quiet again, Corvin sat still for a long moment, his hand tapping idly against the arm of his chair. Then a smirk spread across his lips. He rang for a maid and gave his order. "Bring Magistra Valyne to my study." His tone had shifted, no longer sharp with politics, but laced with amusement. He wanted a distraction, something bright and alive. And Valyne was exactly that.