Intelude serpine shadows

Between mind and matter, suspended in the void that bridges worlds, they convened. Their figures, mere whispers of existence, floated in an expanse where time and space lost meaning. The voluminous robes, adorned with golden serpents, flowed around them like mist, while staffs topped with the twisted symbols of the letter V hovered in the non-space.

"Election is lost. Our influence wanes."

Their voices were like echoes in a dream, resonating through the psychic plane, a realm where thoughts and words mingled indistinguishable.

"It is but one nation. We maintain control in others. This is a minor setback."

Around them, the void pulsed gently, reacting to their tones, the fabric of this in-between space seeming to breathe with their sibilant whispers.

"Also an opportunity. Fear, anger, hatred. These have always been our tools."

In this realm, their words were more than sound—they were ripples, cascading through the very essence of this place, altering its colours like a mood ring.

"Let us nurture the spark into a conflagration. Let the blood run free."

The void around them seemed to darken, as if absorbing the malevolence of their intentions, the golden serpents on their robes glimmering with a sinister light.

"The manifesto divulges parts of our grand design."

Their conversation ebbed and flowed like a cosmic tide, each word a starburst in the vast emptiness.

"But it is blind to our true purpose. Our veil remains unbroken."

Their thoughts intermingled, creating a tapestry of schemes, visible only to those who existed in this non-place.

"Still, it follows the losses of the Witch Hunter and the Assassin."

"They perished pursuing intruders. Such endeavors always carry risk."

A collective understanding rippled through them, an acknowledgment of the dangers that lurked even in their dominion of shadows.

"So many events in quick succession. Could the Master be at work?"

"Nothing suggests it. You perceive his presence in every shadow."

A hint of dissension, a flicker of doubt, manifesting as a brief disturbance in the void.

"What of the Exile? Any sign of him?"

"None."

"He will not be pleased."

Their final words resonated, then faded, leaving a silence that was absorbed by the boundless expanse.