Eric’s smile returns, genuine now. Not from approval but understanding. Status, scandal, even pride becomes trivial when weighed against supremacy.
“Well then,” he says, adjusting his collar, “I trust the wedding will be appropriately extravagant?”Such a perfect puppet.
A scream shatters the air.
The monitoring screens flash warning signals, then stabilize. Another weapon forged in the crucible of necessity.
“Our success rate remains impressive,” Eric observes, studying the data. “Though our essence supply is strained. Even with Kian’s networks in the Northern Wastes, and the arena-grade specimens, we’re depleting faster than we anticipated.”
He hesitates. Then adds carefully, “The sanctuary’s full inventory would rectify the shortage. Or perhaps agreements with other regions . . . ”
“The supply chain is being handled,” I say dismissively.
Let him fret. The creatures we have will serve my purpose perfectly. Quality over quantity, and these particular specimens house exactly the kind of devastating power I need.
“There’s another matter,” Eric continues, lowering his voice. “The psychological impact of more aggressive essences. We never saw this level of consciousness override in the pure creature trials.The essence isn’t just enhancing their abilities, it’s dominating the host’s original personality, rewriting their very nature.”
I arch an eyebrow, inviting elaboration.
“The Hellweaver candidates,” he says, gesturing to the far chambers, where shadows snarl against reinforced glass. “Their magical signatures have been completely subsumed. They’re not enhanced humans anymore. They’re becoming true Hellweavers, with all the chaos and destruction that implies.”
I observe a dark flame coiling across one subject’s arm. It clings to the skin like a parasite with intent. Not destruction alone, but appetite. The old texts called Hellweaversdemons that dream of being dragons. Watching that fire stalk the chamber, I understand why. It doesn’t burn. It hunts.
This is what the others fear to grasp—that evolution demands sacrifice. Greatness cannot be achieved through half-measures and careful regulations. When history looks back, it will not list committees and councils. It will speak one name. One savior. One god.
The masses cry out for order, for protection, for someone to carry their burdens. I will answer, and deliver them from their own weakness. And in doing so, become eternal.
“They’re not just gaining abilities,” Eric says, tension threading into his words. “They’re being rewritten entirely. We won’t be able to control them.”
“And this troubles you?” I keep my tone mild, though inwardly I smile at his shortsightedness.
I don’t need them controlled. I need them unleashed.
“The permanent psychological alterations—”
“Luna’s current project will resolve any behavioral discrepancies,” I interject. “We’re not cultivating an army of healers, Eric. We’re engineering weapons we’ll need when the time comes.”
When the other Founding Families resist. When the regions refuse to kneel.
I pivot. “Tomorrow’s trial schedule. How many subjectsare prepared?”
“Twenty from the Lower Rings, all pre-screened and processed. Three more elites for the public program upstairs.” He hesitates. “Though after last night’s event, we may need to revisit the screening protocols.”
Ah, there it is.
The first fissure. The beginning of doubt.
“Incidents are inevitable in work this radical,” I say soothingly. “Though if you feel we’re moving too quickly . . . ”
“No!” He catches himself, softening his tone. “No, of course not. We can’t afford hesitation. The potential is too great.”
I watch another subject’s body absorb the transformation, already calculating how long until this miracle curdles into catastrophe. How many accidents before the public demands oversight? Before someone looks for a culprit? And who better than Dr. Eric Vale?
“Edmund,” I say, warmth threading through my tone as I spot him scribbling with his ever-present enchanted pen. Always the witness who ensures that his name is written beneath every achievement. “Walk with me? There’s something I’d like to discuss.”
He brightens instantly. In his mind, we are collaborators, perhaps even friends. “Of course, Alexander.” He turns to Eric. “If we’re finished here for tonight?”
He waves him off.
