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Harthanmoor, The Imperial Capital


She rapped her fingers against the smooth, marble. The sharp clicking of her nails echoed through her lavish office.

Arlie got too cocky in the Ghostwood, and she lost her head for it. A Nightmare killed Laurel and demolished her ship at Westbrook, leaving no survivors. Marisa was so arrogant, she didn’t even bring her soldiers. And she ended up fleeing for her life and let them escape from Tortaron. Aboard an airship, no less.

She clenched her teeth so hard she wouldn’t be surprised if they shattered.

“Lady Seraphina,” Delphia said, her head bowed, “we could increase the bount–”

“And what good would that do?” Seraphina growled. “They’ve brought the changeling to the Black Spire. I could care less about them now.”

Such a simple trick. She couldn’t believe she fell for it. But if this was the same Magus from the Demon War who’d brought down the Eastern Realms, she shouldn’t be so hard on herself. He fooled half the world. But from what the soldiers have reported, he was no more dangerous than a novice magician, not the world ending wizard she’d expected. Another one of his tricks, perhaps?

Either way, he had the shard. And now, he was beyond her reach. Hiding in the Black Spire, on the other side of the world, guarded by Kronus the Black. A terrifying opponent, assuming they could even get past the Sentinels.

But that shard was nothing without the other five.

“When the time comes, we’ll make plans to retrieve him,” Seraphina said. “Until then, keep searching.”

Delphia bowed before seeing herself out.

An attack on Sanctuary’s capital? Seraphina snorted at the thought. That was too much, even for her. Brute force wouldn’t work. Perhaps she’d take a page out of Magus’s book.