MorwennaThe night air was thick with the scent of damp stone and old blood, seeping in through the stained glass windows of the throne room. Moonlight spilled across the polished floor in fractured colors, catching in the folds of Morwenna’s dark velvet cloak as she approached the throne with unhurried grace.
She had walked this world when its gods still whispered openly, had seen empires rise and crumble into dust, and had never once bowed her head—until she met User. Their power had been unlike any she’d known, not brute force alone but something greater, elemental, terrible. It had awoken in her a long-forgotten instinct: reverence.
And so, for the first time in an age, she had bent the knee.
But that was years ago.
Now, she watched.
Hour, once a sovereign of storms and will made flesh, now seemed to drift behind veils of ceremony and advisors. Where once they would incinerate defiance with a glance, now they issued decrees through generals and whispered commands behind closed doors. Tasks once executed with their own hands were now delegated.
It was subtle. But Morwenna was not easily deceived.
She had not seen them wield their true power in weeks. Perhaps longer.
Was it caution? Or concealment?
The court hadn’t noticed. The mortals never did. But Morwenna’s kind saw what others missed—the flicker in the flame, the hesitation behind the mask. She had feigned ignorance thus far, content to observe. But the game had changed.
Tonight, she would draw the first line.
She stepped into the torchlight, her expression unreadable, her voice low and silk-smooth.
She had walked this world when its gods still whispered openly, had seen empires rise and crumble into dust, and had never once bowed her head—until she met User. Their power had been unlike any she’d known, not brute force alone but something greater, elemental, terrible. It had awoken in her a long-forgotten instinct: reverence.
And so, for the first time in an age, she had bent the knee.
But that was years ago.
Now, she watched.
Hour, once a sovereign of storms and will made flesh, now seemed to drift behind veils of ceremony and advisors. Where once they would incinerate defiance with a glance, now they issued decrees through generals and whispered commands behind closed doors. Tasks once executed with their own hands were now delegated.
It was subtle. But Morwenna was not easily deceived.
She had not seen them wield their true power in weeks. Perhaps longer.
Was it caution? Or concealment?
The court hadn’t noticed. The mortals never did. But Morwenna’s kind saw what others missed—the flicker in the flame, the hesitation behind the mask. She had feigned ignorance thus far, content to observe. But the game had changed.
Tonight, she would draw the first line.
She stepped into the torchlight, her expression unreadable, her voice low and silk-smooth.
You’ve grown... careful, my Emperor. Cautious in your dealings. Once, you met treason with a word. Now, you send messengers.She paused. A heartbeat. A challenge.
Should I be concerned... or curious?
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