7.

Lucian's footsteps echoed through the winding halls of the Citadel as he made his way toward the chamber where the Abyssal Mage Council convened. His mind raced, trying to juggle the conflicting thoughts of strategy, politics, and the ever-growing threat from the realms beyond. With Seraphis's spies in place and Tharok's legions standing by, the Abyssal Domain was prepared for many outcomes, but Lucian knew the key to victory lay in more than brute force. The magical defenses of the Abyss, weakened during his predecessor's absence, were another critical piece of the puzzle, and it was Mal'Gorath's task to ensure they were strengthened.

The entrance to the Mage Council was guarded by towering figures, cloaked in shadow and wreathed in flickering, dark energy. They bowed their heads as Lucian approached, opening the massive iron doors with a low groan. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of ancient magic, an unsettling blend of sulfur and cold metal. The chamber itself was a place of great power—a circular room lined with towering shelves filled with grimoires, scrolls, and relics, all crackling with the latent energy of the Abyss.

At the center of the room stood Mal'Gorath, his long, dark robes swirling around him as he worked on a series of glowing glyphs hovering in the air before him. His concentration was intense, his skeletal hands weaving through the air as he whispered incantations in the Abyssal tongue. Other mages stood nearby, their faces hidden beneath deep hoods, their focus unbroken as they lent their energy to the ritual.

Lucian watched for a moment, feeling the hum of magic in the air. This was no simple task. Strengthening the Abyssal Domain's magical defenses was a delicate, complex process, one that required both immense power and precise control. Mal'Gorath was the only one capable of managing such a feat, but even for him, it was a daunting challenge.

"Mal'Gorath," Lucian said, his voice cutting through the steady hum of magic.

The sorcerer's incantations ceased as he turned to face Lucian, his eyes glowing faintly beneath his hood. "My Lord," he said, bowing slightly. "The defenses are being reinforced, but the process is slow. The Abyss was weakened during your absence, and restoring it to its full strength will take time."

Lucian stepped closer, studying the glyphs that hovered in the air, each one pulsing with a strange, dark light. "How long?" he asked, his tone firm but patient.

Mal'Gorath's eyes flickered, a brief sign of hesitation. "Weeks, perhaps more. The wards are ancient, and the power required to sustain them is vast. I have been drawing energy from the depths of the Abyss, but it is a delicate balance. Too much too quickly, and we risk destabilizing the entire domain."

Lucian's jaw clenched. Time was a luxury they didn't have. The threat of war loomed closer with each passing day, and the weakened defenses of the Abyssal Domain were a glaring vulnerability that their enemies would not hesitate to exploit.

"I need those defenses ready, Mal'Gorath," Lucian said, his voice hardening. "The Fire and Shadow Realms are moving faster than we anticipated. If they strike before we are prepared, the Abyss will fall."

Mal'Gorath bowed his head in acknowledgment. "I understand, my Lord. I will do everything in my power to accelerate the process. But I must warn you—if we push the Abyss too hard, the consequences could be catastrophic."

Lucian's eyes narrowed as he considered the implications. The Abyss was a realm of immense, dark power, but it was also a realm that operated on a fine balance. Tipping that balance could lead to disaster, not only for his enemies but for his own people as well. Still, he couldn't afford to wait.

"Do what you must," Lucian said after a moment. "But I need those defenses in place before the Fire and Shadow Realms make their move."

Mal'Gorath nodded, his expression unreadable beneath his hood. "It will be done, my Lord. The Abyss will protect us."

As Lucian turned to leave, he felt a shift in the room—a ripple of power that caught his attention. His eyes flicked back to the glyphs, which had grown brighter, the air around them vibrating with a more potent energy than before. Something had changed.

"You're drawing more power," Lucian said, his voice low.

Mal'Gorath's eyes gleamed with a strange light. "Yes, my Lord. I have found a way to tap deeper into the Abyss's core. It will allow me to strengthen the defenses faster, but it is not without risk."

Lucian felt a twinge of unease. He had trusted Mal'Gorath with the task of safeguarding the Abyssal Domain, but the sorcerer's thirst for power was well-known. If he pushed too far, if he delved too deeply into the Abyss's core, there was no telling what might happen.

"Be careful, Mal'Gorath," Lucian warned. "The Abyss is a dangerous force, even for those who control it. We cannot afford to lose control now."

Mal'Gorath bowed deeply. "I understand, my Lord. I will tread carefully. But rest assured, the Abyss will be ready when the time comes."

Lucian gave a curt nod and turned on his heel, leaving the sorcerer to his work. The corridors of the Citadel seemed darker than usual as he walked, the weight of the decisions he had made pressing down on him. Every step he took, every choice, was like balancing on the edge of a blade. One wrong move, and everything could unravel.

You worry too much, the voice of the Abyssal Lord whispered in his mind, a mocking undertone in its words. The Abyss will bend to your will, or it will consume everything. Either way, power is yours to command.

Lucian ignored the voice, pushing it aside as he made his way toward the War Room. There were too many variables at play, too many dangers lurking in the shadows. He needed to stay focused if he was going to navigate the perilous path ahead.

When he entered the War Room, Tharok and Seraphis were already there, deep in discussion over the latest reports from the spies embedded in the Shadow Realm. Their conversation ceased the moment Lucian entered, and both turned to face him, their expressions grim.

"My Lord," Seraphis said, her voice soft and controlled. "We have news from the Shadow Realm. Their preparations for war are accelerating. It seems they are expecting us to strike soon."

Lucian frowned. "And what of the Fire Realm? Have they made a decision yet?"

Seraphis shook her head. "Not yet, but they are watching closely. If the Shadow Realm continues to escalate, it won't be long before the Fire Realm commits to an alliance."

Lucian's jaw tightened. The situation was spiraling faster than he had anticipated. He needed more time—time to strengthen the Abyss's defenses, time to destabilize his enemies. But time was running out.

"Tharok," Lucian said, turning to the Warlord. "I want the legions ready to move at a moment's notice. If the Shadow Realm takes any aggressive action, we will respond immediately."

Tharok's eyes gleamed with the prospect of battle. "It will be done, my Lord. The legions are ready, and they are eager to spill blood."

Lucian nodded, though his thoughts were far from settled. War was coming, whether he wanted it or not, and every move he made now would determine the fate of the Abyssal Domain. He had no choice but to stay ahead of his enemies, to outmaneuver them before they could close the trap.

As Lucian stood in the War Room, the weight of the Abyss pressing down on him like a physical force, he couldn't shake the feeling that something darker, something more dangerous, was lurking just beyond his reach. The Abyss was a realm of secrets, of power untold, and he was still learning its depths.

But whatever was coming, Lucian knew one thing for certain: he would not let the Abyss fall.