The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a few flickering candles around the table. Shadows stretched across the stone walls, contorting the figures of the people seated around it into strange, monstrous shapes. A heavy air of foreboding filled the space, as if the very walls whispered of long-forgotten secrets and forbidden plans.
“So, what are we thinking?” a gruff voice broke the silence. The speaker’s hulking form loomed in the shadows, his features obscured, but his unnatural size and distorted limbs gave away the fact that he was no human. He was something more, something monstrous.
A hiss of annoyance came from another figure seated at the table. The voice was cold, clipped. “Isn’t it obvious? The boy has a new lantern, and unlike us, he hasn’t been punished. He can still return from death. We can’t let that happen. We need to capture him, confiscate all the souls he’s collected, and then… eliminate him.” The voice dripped with finality, the weight of it hanging in the air.
Another figure, whose face was obscured by a deep hood, leaned forward, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Isn’t that a bit… aggressive? I thought we were more about ‘invite first, kill if they refuse’ than straight-up stealing their souls.”
A low chuckle rumbled in the room, a sound that seemed to come from the walls themselves. “We can’t afford to take that kind of risk,” the first voice snapped. “Whenever a new apostle appears, they bring a host of problems. They always think they’re some kind of righteous hero, out to destroy the Seven Usurpers. We cannot allow another fool to disrupt the balance we’ve worked so hard to maintain. We need the Seven Usurpers alive so we too can remain Immortal. If any fool tries to disturb that, we’re done for.”
A second voice, this one more detached, added, “Indeed, though we cannot return from death like the New apostle we must not let him hunt the Usurpers, otherwise we’ll lose our immortality.”
There was a long pause, filled only with the sound of breathing. A faint echo of ancient, gnawing hunger seemed to hang over the room, as if the shadows themselves were waiting for something to break.
“We’re not immortal,” another voice muttered. “Not really. We can die… if we’re killed.”
A murmur of frustration rippled through the table. “Don’t be naive,” the first speaker growled. “We’re no longer bound by time. We don’t age. We don’t get sick. And most of us… we’ve grown far stronger than we ever were before the lanterns. There’s no way I’m risking all of that for some self-righteous brat with a hero’s spirit and no idea what he’s up against.”
There was a brief moment of silence as everyone at the table processed the grim reality. Then, one voice, rough and jagged like the scraping of metal, spoke again. “Alright, then. What’s the plan? We can’t just march up to Black Tower Academy and hope for the best. They’ve got the Eight Circle Mage Dean protecting the place and that Psychopath Van Dijk … and you—” He turned to one of the figures, who winced. “—you really had to anger him by slaughtering both his wife and daughter, didn’t you?”
The accused figure’s eyes glinted in the dim light, but he remained silent. The others exchanged knowing looks, but no one dared challenge him. “Shut it,” he muttered after a moment. “I didn’t know who they were. It was… a feeding frenzy. But Van Dijk? he’s too preoccupied with killing my sired offspring so he is rarely in the academy nor do I think he’ll ever care for the Apostle. Soon enough, the Apostle will graduate and leave the academy’s walls. Then, he’s fair game.”
A faint chuckle came from another shadowed figure. “You really think we can just wait around for that? Another three or four years?” The tone was mocking, but there was a nervous edge to it. “We have no idea how powerful he’ll be by then.”
The first speaker leaned back in his seat, his massive form creaking. “Patience is the key. We’ll let the Seer keep an eye on the boy. We don’t need to rush. We’ve waited this long. A few more years won’t make a difference.”
Another voice spoke up, calmer this time. “Just make sure we don’t overstep. If Necros realizes we’re spying on his apostle, he’ll sever our connection. We’ve been cut off before.”
A ripple of unease passed through the group at the mention of Necros, but the first figure dismissed it with a flick of his hand. “We’re in no danger. As long as the Seer does his job and stays hidden, we’re fine.”
“Speaking of danger,” a voice chimed in, “there’s a Seven Usurper near the academy. The Gluttonous Death. Any chance we can push him or egg him on to go to the academy? he can definitely deal with this apostle, after all, they hate us with enthusiasm.”
The room fell silent for a moment as the implications of that question settled over the group. After a long pause, a gruff laugh filled the air.
“Are you mad?” the first voice responded, low and menacing. “None of us here could stand against one of The Seven Usurper—not even close. You wouldn’t find me anywhere near any of them. Though the Gluttonous Death could be useful. He absorbs souls, remember? If he comes across the apostle, he’ll take care of things for us. We won’t even need to move a muscle, so instead of us egging the Gluttonous Death, we’ll just have to hope that the Apostle mistakenly moves toward it. Other than that I wouldn’t even humor the idea of getting anywhere near it.”
A murmur of agreement passed between the figures, and the mood in the room lightened for a moment. But the first speaker’s voice soon cut through the growing sense of complacency. “Then we have nothing to fear. On a different note, I’ve heard news from the Imperial Capital. They’ve chosen a new hero. What should we do about that?”
A tense silence followed, as each figure at the table considered the implications of a new hero entering the world.
“Nothing,” the first voice said, finally. “We are neutral. Heroes don’t owe us anything, they don’t hunt us, nor should they bother with us. Let’s see what this one can do. But keep your eyes open.”
A chorus of agreement filled the room. “For Eternity.”
“For Eternity!”
