8.

Lucian paced the floor of the War Room, his thoughts growing heavier with each new revelation. Seraphis's spies were doing their work well, but the situation was deteriorating far too quickly for comfort. The Shadow Realm's escalation, coupled with the Fire Realm's watchful eye, left the Abyssal Domain on the precipice of a war that could end in destruction if mishandled.

He was pulled from his thoughts as the heavy iron doors to the War Room creaked open once more. A messenger rushed inside, his breath coming in shallow gasps. It was rare for anyone to burst into the War Room without being summoned, which told Lucian immediately that the news was dire.

"My Lord," the messenger said, dropping to one knee, his voice hurried and filled with urgency. "There's been a development at the northern outpost."

Lucian's eyes narrowed, and Tharok, who had been standing at the far side of the room, stepped forward with a growl. "What happened?"

The messenger swallowed hard, beads of sweat forming on his brow. "An envoy from the Shadow Realm arrived, under a flag of truce. They claim they wish to negotiate… but they've brought a host of soldiers with them. Our outpost is outnumbered."

Lucian's jaw tightened. A negotiation with a significant military presence was a thinly veiled threat, one designed to test the Abyssal Domain's strength and resolve. The Shadow Realm was likely probing for weakness, trying to gauge whether Lucian's reign was as unstable as the rumors claimed.

He could sense the impatience rolling off Tharok, who no doubt would rather march to the outpost with an army and cut down every last envoy. But Lucian knew that any rash decision now could play directly into the hands of his enemies. If they wanted to provoke a conflict, they wouldn't need much. A single misstep could trigger an all-out war, something the Abyss wasn't fully prepared for.

"We can't ignore this," Lucian said, his tone measured. "They're testing us."

Seraphis nodded, her expression cold. "The Shadow Realm knows that a show of force this close to our borders will provoke a response. If they can push us into acting first, they can claim we violated the truce."

Lucian's eyes flicked to Tharok, whose hands were clenched into fists. The Warlord was a weapon, sharp and eager to be unleashed, but this wasn't the time for brute force. Lucian needed to outmaneuver the Shadow Realm, not rush blindly into the trap they were setting.

"We will not engage them militarily," Lucian said, his voice cutting through the tension in the room. "Not yet. I want a delegation sent to the outpost—one that will demonstrate our strength, but also our control."

Tharok's brow furrowed. "A delegation, my Lord? They're already in position to strike. If we show weakness—"

"We won't show weakness," Lucian interrupted, his voice firm. "We will show that we are not afraid of their games. We are still in control."

The Warlord's lips pressed into a thin line, but he gave a slow nod, clearly restraining his desire for action. "As you command."

"Seraphis," Lucian continued, turning to the Spymaster. "I want you to accompany the delegation. I need your eyes on the ground. Find out what the Shadow Realm is really planning."

Seraphis bowed her head slightly, her dark eyes glittering with a dangerous light. "It will be done, my Lord."

Lucian's mind raced as he pieced together the next steps. This wasn't just about one outpost. The Shadow Realm's aggression was escalating far too quickly, and Lucian suspected they were hoping to provoke him into rash action. But he wouldn't be drawn into their game so easily.

Still, he couldn't afford to appear passive either. The Fire Realm was watching, and any sign of weakness could push them into joining the Shadow Realm's cause. It was a delicate balance—one that required patience, precision, and a willingness to play a longer game.

As Seraphis left to make the necessary arrangements for the delegation, Tharok remained, his massive frame radiating a barely-contained frustration.

"Tharok," Lucian said, his tone softening slightly as he addressed the Warlord. "I understand your desire to strike. But if we rush into this, we may be giving them exactly what they want. Right now, we need to show that we are in control of this situation. We will strike, but we will do so on our terms."

Tharok grunted, his eyes gleaming with a hunger for battle that Lucian knew would never be fully quenched. "I am ready, my Lord. But the soldiers grow restless. They are eager to prove their loyalty to you."

"And they will have their chance," Lucian assured him. "But not yet. Let Seraphis gather more information. Once we know the true nature of their plans, we will be ready."

Tharok bowed his head, though Lucian could sense the frustration simmering beneath the surface. "As you command, my Lord. The legions will remain at the ready."

Lucian nodded and watched as the Warlord left the room, his heavy footsteps echoing in the stone corridors. Once again, Lucian was left alone with the weight of the Abyss pressing down on him.

You're playing their game, the voice of the Abyssal Lord hissed in his mind. They push, and you retreat. Is this the ruler you want to be?

Lucian clenched his jaw, trying to push the voice aside. He wasn't retreating. He was waiting, biding his time. The Abyssal Domain wasn't ready for war, not yet. If he charged headlong into the conflict, it would be over before it began. He had to be smarter than that.

You think you can outsmart them? the voice continued, its tone mocking. They smell blood, and they will come for you. Only power will stop them.

"I know," Lucian muttered under his breath. He knew the power the Abyss offered, the terrifying, destructive force that lay just beneath the surface. But using that power came with risks—risks that could unravel everything he had built.

The challenge wasn't just in wielding the power. It was in controlling it. Mastering it. If he gave in to the voice, to the hunger for dominance that came with the Abyss, he might lose himself in the process. And if that happened, he would be no better than the enemies gathering at his borders.

Lucian's gaze drifted toward the map on the table before him, a sprawling layout of the Abyssal Domain and the surrounding realms. Each realm was a piece in the game, and right now, every move he made had to be calculated, precise. The Shadow Realm had made their move, and now it was his turn.

He just had to make sure it was the right one.

You hesitate, the voice hissed again, frustration lacing its words. You cling to your humanity when the Abyss offers you something greater. Embrace the power, and they will all kneel before you.

Lucian's fists tightened at his sides. The power was there, always waiting, always tempting. But he couldn't afford to let it control him. Not yet.

"I will decide when it's time to strike," Lucian said quietly, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the map. "And when I do, they will see the true power of the Abyss."