The Dominion of Crimson Stone announced itself from miles away.

Massive crimson walls stretched across the horizon in a continuous ring that enclosed a city so vast its furthest structures disappeared into the low haze that the concentration of Mana produced above large populations.

Towers of obsidian and crimson rose throughout, their heights staggered in a silhouette that had been designed to communicate power before any army reached its gates, and the light that pulsed from every surface was not the white-gold of the Covenant or the verdant-blue of the Cradle but a deep arterial crimson that painted the clouds above the capital in shades that made the sky look like something that had been bleeding for a very long time.

At the center of it all sat the Citadel of the Eternal Crimson.

It was ancient by the standards of empires that called themselves ancient. Cyclopean walls of obsidian-veined stone enclosed a structure that had been built, expanded, buried under newer construction, and excavated again across centuries, each era adding its layer until what stood now was less a building than a geological record of every power that had ever controlled this territory. Towers rose from its bulk at irregular intervals, and the highest of them caught the crimson light and threw it outward in pulses that the surrounding city organized itself around, the way cities organized themselves around a heartbeat.

The throne hall of the Crimson Emperor occupied the Citadel’s highest interior space.

It was a long room and a tall one, the ceiling lost in shadows that the crimson-gold light rising from a hundred wall-mounted Mana stones never quite reached. Crystalline walls caught that light and fractured it into patterns that moved slowly across the floor and the figures standing on it, shifting like something alive.

At the far end, elevated on a dais of carved obsidian, a throne of clear crystal rose from the stone floor and caught all the light in the room and made it worse.

The Murderous Saint sat on it.

Khorvash Valdrath. Ensi of the Dominion of Crimson Stone. The man who had sat across from Emperor Zuku Vakochev in meeting rooms and smiled while planning everything that followed. He was wrapped in crimson light that moved with him rather than around him, and his face sat in the center of it like something placed there deliberately, features that had been handsome once and had since become something more useful than handsome.

His eyes were the source of the crimson light, not metaphorically but literally, two points of burning red illumination that turned the shadows nearest him a shade deeper.

Nine Demons stood around the throne.

Not the lesser goblins stationed in the towers. These were Eighth Circle entities, Dukes on the caliber of Barbatos, each one occupying a position around the dais with the formal arrangement of a court that had decided hierarchy mattered. Their auras pressed against the room collectively and pressed against the Dominion Imperators delivering their report in the center of the hall with a weight that made the floor between the throne and the messengers feel like a significant distance to cross.

The female Imperator delivering the report was exquisitely beautiful in the way that the Dominion cultivated beauty in its highest-ranking officers, her features sharp and composed above crimson armor that had been worked with gold thread to distinguish her rank.

She held herself still under the combined attention of nine Demon Dukes and the Murderous Saint’s burning gaze with the particular discipline of someone whose composure was load-bearing.

"Our spies within the Covenant of the First Stone have provided a comprehensive account," she said. Her voice carried without effort across the hall. "The one responsible for the events at the Covenant has been identified as Damian Vakochev. Son of Zuku Vakochev. The Lost Prince." She paused once, deliberately, then continued.

"He arrived with the Holy Daughter of the Covenant, both of them transformed beyond recognition, their cultivation registering at a level our spies could not accurately measure. He defeated five Demon Dukes simultaneously, bound them with constructs of solar light, and stripped the summoning of the Hand of the Demon Emperor before it could complete."

Something moved in the room.

Several of the nine Dukes around the throne exchanged looks that they probably believed were subtle.

The female Imperator continued. "He then demanded the Dominion forces kneel before introducing himself by name and lineage. Those who did not kneel were scorched where they stood. Several thousand of our forces are confirmed dead. The remainder were expelled or chained from the Citadel. The Hallowed Voice was gravely injured by s manifestation of The Demon Emperor, and the Covenant has formally declared war on the Dominion." She drew a controlled breath. "Additionally, Crimson Watch Towers along our northern border have been falling throughout the night. The two figures responsible match the descriptions of Damian Vakochev and the Holy Daughter."

The hall went quiet. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

The Murderous Saint smiled.

It was a slow smile, the kind that built from the corners and took its time arriving at its full expression, and it carried none of the warmth that smiles were supposed to carry. He leaned back in the crystal throne and tapped one finger against its armrest.

"Damian," he said, and the name came out with the fond amusement of someone recalling a harmless childhood memory. "Little Damian." He shook his head once, still smiling. "I put that little thing on my lap. I played with him in his father’s meeting rooms while his father watched and thought I was loyal." The smile didn’t move.

"I ruined his unawakened Land and Sky Physique gradually. Slowly. Over years. He never knew, and his parents never detected it. I ruined that child completely." He looked at his finger tapping the armrest and stopped it.

"No. It cannot be Damian. Damian was ruined. Whatever this is, it is the Beasts making their play, or I underestimated that old man at the Covenant."

He let the silence sit for a moment.

"But if I am wrong." His burning eyes moved to the female Imperator. "If it is somehow, impossibly, Little Damian standing in my Covenant and taking down my towers." He smiled again, and this time it reached all the way to his eyes, which made it worse.

"Go and dig out his father. I respected Zuku Vakochev in the end. A good man, genuinely. I buried him properly." He rose from the crystal throne in a single unhurried motion. "Reanimate him. Defile the corpse. Bring me his Anointed remains."

BOOM!

The command landed in the hall and the hall moved in response. Figures peeled away from the gathered Imperators and headed for the exits with the speed of people who understood that this particular order did not benefit from delay.

One of the nine Dukes around the throne turned toward the Murderous Saint.

"The Demon Emperor strongly feels there is something amiss with the current situation," it said, its voice carrying the controlled tone of someone delivering a message they hadn’t chosen.

"He does not want all the recent planning to come to nothing. He has suggested-"

The Murderous Saint raised his hand.

"Hush," he said. "Hush now." His burning eyes turned to the Duke with an expression that was not hostile and was not warm and communicated that the conversation was over. "I speak to the Demon Emperor more than you do. I know. I know."

He said the last two words the way a man said things he intended to close with, and the Duke found no further opening to speak through.

The crimson light in the Murderous Saint’s eyes pulsed once, deep and bright, and for just a moment, the light that burned there was not entirely his own!