A Conversation

The Angel murmured quietly, almost to himself, "I find myself… conflicted. Every night, it speaks to me. It sloshes deep in my mind—mocking, viscous. His baits always begin the same, with him saying he will destroy the Dauntless Company." There was a pause, a slight tremor in his voice before he admitted, "Fallen, I could use your advice."

Veneres' hand, poised to push open the tent flaps, froze mid-motion. His suspicions were confirmed. The Ruin was still in play, its presence concealed from most but undeniable to those who paid attention. It whispered to the Angel, twisting its poison into his thoughts.

Before the Angel could continue his vulnerable train of thought, a sharp voice cut through the air. "If you plan to lounge around all day, I'll happily kick you out."

Veneres' jaw clenched, and he bit back a curse. The surgeon—Imi, with her sharp tongue and lack of tact—had ruined this moment of weakness. What could have been invaluable information slipped through his fingers like water.

The Angel's voice softened as he replied, "Forgive me… people turn to me more than ever. It's…" He hesitated. "Unnerving."

"You shouldn't have picked up the Tridact, then," Imi shot back, her tone dry and biting.

"I had no choice," the Angel said defensively.

Imi snorted. "In court, the God King used to say the same thing—right before damning hundreds to starvation to fund his feasts. 'I had no choice,'" she mimicked, her voice dripping with disdain. "'I needed to please the gods.'"

"So, you were close to the king," the Angel retorted, his words laced with sarcasm. "I thought you were a simple surgeon."

There was a long pause before Imi answered, her tone tight. "I never said as much."

"It was implied."

"Then you should learn to imply less."

The air grew quiet, heavy with unspoken tension, before the Angel broke it with a soft laugh.

"You have a nice laugh," Imi said, her voice surprisingly warm. "Don't lose it."

The Angel hesitated again, the faintest crack in his composure. "I… I find it harder to laugh sometimes these days. But I'll try."

"You'd better," Imi replied lightly. "I need some life outside this tent."

The Angel chuckled. "So you're using me?"

"Yes. I have my own personal reincarnation of the hero of Reem. It's quite useful when I need something off a high shelf."

Even as they joked, Veneres knew the truth behind her words. The people of Reem looked to the Angel of the Red Sands as their savior, their symbol of resistance. While the man himself knew little of tactics or strategy, his influence rivaled Veneres' own. To the masses, he was the Defier of the Weave, the one who had stood against the Purger and lived to tell the tale.

The Angel's voice grew quieter. "You don't come from Reem, do you?"

That was all Veneres needed to hear. He pushed the tent flaps open, stepping into the room with a deliberate stride.

"No," Imi began, startled by his sudden entrance, "but I am thankful for it. Hedo is a beauti—"

"If I recall," Veneres interrupted smoothly, "Hedo formed trading bonds with Reem some decades ago, didn't it?"

Imi's eyes widened as she stepped back, bowing hastily. "Forgive me, Paramount. I didn't mean to take up the Angel's time."

Veneres forced a smile, the expression cool and calculated. "Oh, don't trouble yourself. I doubt you've interrupted anything critical. I came simply to speak with my esteemed counterpart."

"Veneres," the Angel greeted, folding his arms across his chest.

The tension between the two was almost suffocating, a clash of wills that neither acknowledged outright. Behind the Angel, Imi quietly slipped away, her wild curls disappearing from Veneres' view. He didn't blame her—she had enough sense to avoid lingering between two beasts of Reem.

The Angel's Ukari guards stood at his sides, their hands resting on their weapons. Their loyalty was unshakable, their presence a silent warning.

"Do you want something?" the Angel asked, his tone direct and impatient.

Veneres met his gaze without flinching. "We're going on a hunt for wild lesh. I came to ask if you would join us."

The Angel's eyes narrowed. He glanced at his Ukari protectors before asking, "Why are we hunting lesh?"

"Most of our mounts were devoured in the karnen attack. It's prudent to resupply," Veneres explained evenly. "Unless you've forgotten the loss of the hydra."

The Angel's jaw tightened at the reminder. "I haven't forgotten."

"Good," Veneres said, his tone clipped. "Then you understand this is a necessity."

There was a pause as the Angel weighed his options. Finally, he gave a curt nod. "I'll be there."

"Excellent," Veneres replied, turning on his heel. He didn't press further—he knew better than to test the Angel's temper unnecessarily.

As he exited the tent, he caught a faint whisper behind him, one most would have missed.

"Just rest now, Fallen. I'll carry your burden like I always have."

The hunting party assembled quickly. Veneres rode atop a white stallion, his hand brushing over its mane with quiet affection. The horse had been with him since his earliest days in the Dauntless Company, a loyal companion in a world where loyalty was scarce. The stallion nickered softly as they approached the jagged cleft of the Dragon Fang mountain range.

The peaks loomed above them like the serrated teeth of some ancient beast, their colorless stone glinting in the harsh sunlight. The valleys below, once farmland, were now overgrown with wild grasses and reeds, their greenery a stark contrast to the barren peaks.

Veneres surveyed the Coalition of the Spire as they marched through the narrow path. His army—his creation—was growing stronger by the day. Soon, Reem would be his. Soon, he would cradle it in his hands, and no one, not even the Angel, could wrest it from his grasp.

He turned to Sethos, the Reem Templar captain. "Gather your men and send them around the back to drive the lesh toward us."

Sethos nodded and rode off to fulfill the order. Veneres shifted his attention to Misaka, who rode beside him, her posture as languid as ever.

"I'll need you to distract the Ukari," he said quietly.

Misaka arched a brow. "And how do you expect me to do that? They might kill the lesh, you know."

"I'm aware," Veneres said calmly. "But it's necessary. I need to speak with the Angel of the Red Sands alone, without interference. Guide the lesh and any other animals toward them. Swarm them if you must, but give me time."

Misaka smirked. "You're asking me to delay Ukari? You really do think highly of me, don't you?"

"I'm confident you'll figure it out," Veneres replied, his tone dry.

The other Sovrans and Vice-Sovrans milled about, their expressions carefree. They saw this as a distraction, a chance to loosen tense muscles and enjoy the hunt. Veneres let them believe it.

Turning to Sa'd, he said, "You'll force the lesh toward the Angel's position using your Atta. Flood the area around him."

Sa'd hesitated, his brow furrowed. "I can't guarantee his safety. Incompressible flows are volatile."

"The Angel has his Ukari, Vyn, and his own skills with the blade. Jassin wouldn't have let him remain untrained. Just do as I say."

Sa'd fell silent, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed his unease.

Veneres turned his gaze to the grazing lesh in the distance. Soon, the pieces would fall into place. Soon, the Angel would see the necessity of Veneres' plans—or he would be forced to.

It was time to ignite the spark.