In the dark chamber where whispers never stopped, Malveth stood before the mirror of black ice.
Serian had entered her land.
He was breathing her air.
Walking her roads.
> "Soon," she murmured, "you'll remember who you really are."
A cultist knelt behind her, trembling. "My Lady… what do we do?"
Malveth turned, her expression unreadable.
> "Nothing. Let him walk. Let him see. Let him feel."
She looked up at the moon.
> "He must fall in love with the world I built for him."
---
The Plan That Spans Lifetimes
She summoned her top lieutenants.
Each of them former victims of war, saved by her hand.
"I want the villages to remain untouched," she said. "Let them offer kindness. Let him see we are not monsters."
"And when he doubts?"
> "We feed that doubt."
She grinned, and the entire room shivered.
> "He was always torn between light and dark.
That's why we were born together.
Hero. Demon.
Two faces of the same soul."
---
A Gift for the Hero
In secret, Malveth sent a child to Serian's camp. A mute girl who had once been left to die.
She carried a bundle—food, herbs, a handmade charm carved in the shape of twin wings.
The girl gave no name.
Only a note sealed with black wax:
> "For the hero who once saved me in a past life."
"Do you still remember the warmth of my hand?"
– Your Other Half.
Serian stared at the note for hours, shaking.
---
The Puppetmaster Smiles
That night, Malveth sat on her throne of obsidian.
Watching Serian crack.
One piece at a time.
> "My love, my echo, my creation…"
"I don't need to fight you."
"I just need you to remember."
And beneath the citadel, her army of orphaned soldiers trained harder—eyes glowing with loyalty.
All waiting for a war that might never come.
Or one that would tear the world in half.
---