Tzaphkiel continued their explanation.
"But if Sol has been this quiet… then it means one of two things. Either they have yet to find a Master, or they have found one worth serving. And frankly, I highly doubt that a newborn Fenrir, hopping between worlds to flee from carnage, would be deemed worthy.
At the very least, Sol would have killed him for that cowardice."
Bond and Pluto gulped so loudly that the sound echoed through the night.
"Hey, Lord Gabi'el," Bond muttered, shaking. "I... I want some tea."
He prayed—PRAYED—that Ruben wasn't the Master of Sol.
'That dog is a buffoon! He'd totally get manipulated into something dangerous! And it'd end up being my fault!'
Tzaphkiel, begrudgingly, poured tea into Bond's emerged cup and then Pluto's.
"There is one other Pseudo-Sanas," Tzaphkiel continued, "in the possession of the former Power of Darkness, the Shoggoth—Beelzebub."