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Reaching the estate’s exit, I slip into the courtyard.

Moonlight glints off the fountain at its center, and a chill breeze stirs the air.

One guard stands half-dozing near the gate, sparing me a bored glance.

He recognizes me as a noble from House Velcorin, presumably finishing late business with Vaelith. He doesn’t question me as I depart.

Outside, the city’s streets stretch quiet in the early hours.

Lamps gutter in the distance, and the shadows of tall buildings loom.

I take a moment to breathe in the night air, letting the tension from the council meeting fade.

My role as the city’s most notorious psion once meant unwavering dominance, a claim to subjugate lesser minds.

Now, I slip deeper into forging alliances with my sworn enemies, fighting for a purna who once shattered my illusions of mastery.

I carefully avoid that word illusions, but the memory stings.

She forced me to beg. She tested my pride beyond measure.

Yet here I am, praising her as my vessel in public, so we can save Ai and, ironically, Orthani itself from total collapse.

The cruelty that once defined me feels shaken, replaced by a grudging admiration for the woman I pretended to enslave.

I set off down a side street. My House’s tower isn’t far, but I don’t rush.

My thoughts roam to the conversation we must have with Eryx tomorrow, the final details before the infiltration.

Then the plan unfolds. If all goes well, Ai disappears from Orthani, the Red Purna marches into confusion, and the city’s council remains oblivious until it’s too late.

But Ai’s question remains: does Selene burn Orthani or shape it?

The tension in me spikes at that possibility.

If she chooses to reshape the city, I might stand by her side, rewriting the laws that once empowered me to crush others. Could I truly accept a kinder Orthani?

As I approach my tower’s entrance, I notice a flicker of movement. A shadow detaches from the wall: a House retainer, bowing to me. He’s probably waiting with messages from lesser lords, or perhaps my father’s old allies. I wave him off, mind too full for petty news. “Tomorrow,” I say brusquely.

He retreats, leaving me to ascend the spiraling staircase alone.

My personal chambers are quiet, the night pressing in through tall windows.

I close the door, exhaling at last. The day’s tension hums through my limbs.

We took a monumental risk. The council could have demanded Selene’s immediate execution, but Vaelith and I swayed them.

Another small victory. Another step deeper into her thrall.

I sink onto a padded chair by the window, letting moonlight wash across the room.

My reflection in the glass looks weary, eyes shadowed.

The memory of calling Selene my vessel churns in my mind.

I recall the hush that followed in that grand hall, the shock on the nobles’ faces, the savage satisfaction I felt at flaunting tradition.

Perhaps a part of me enjoyed spitting in Orthani’s rigid laws, especially after experiencing Selene’s power.

Yet a question gnaws at me: if we dethrone Orthani’s old ways, what am I?

I built my identity on psionic cruelty, House Velcorin’s twisted legacy.

If Selene shapes a new city that rejects such brutality, will I adapt or fade away?

The fear that I might lose my sense of self battles the hope that I could be reborn, freed from the House’s centuries of torment.

Thinking of Selene’s challenging gaze, I realize I want that rebirth.

She forced me to confront my sadistic veneer, revealing a hidden craving for genuine connection.

Perhaps if I stand beside her as Orthani transforms, I might discover a more meaningful path than raw domination.

The idea unsettles me, yet it lures me with the promise of a new identity.

I exhale shakily. Enough introspection for one night.

Tomorrow, we proceed. The wards around Ai’s quarters must be discreetly weakened.

Then at dusk, we gather, whisk Ai away, letting Eryx’s false infiltration route divert the Red Purna.

Orthani’s council remains ignorant, believing I hold Selene’s leash, oblivious that she’s orchestrating everything.

If we succeed, we leave chaos in our wake—Orthani fighting the Red Purna, neither obtaining Ai, and we vanish to chart our next move.

But if Selene decides to do more than vanish—if she chooses to stand and claim Orthani’s throne, I’ll face another crossroads. Will I kneel again, this time publicly, accepting her as my queen? The notion sends a thrill of mingled pride and fear.

I cross to my bed, shedding my cloak with shaky fingers.

My body aches for rest, mind whirling with the night’s revelations.

Reaching for the lamp, I blow out the flame, letting darkness envelop the chamber.

The moon’s glow outlines the silhouette of my furniture.

I slip under the covers, eyes drifting shut, but my heartbeat remains erratic.

Images swirl: the council’s scowling faces, Vaelith’s stoic resolve, Eryx’s cunning grin, and in the center, Selene—radiant, unstoppable.

I can’t escape her pull. The memory of her controlling me in the psychic plane stings, but it’s woven now with the heat of desire.

I want to serve her, if only to witness what she becomes, or perhaps to be molded into something better than a sadistic psion.

The conflict rages until weariness drags me under.

Slumber claims me, dreams forging a tapestry of shimmering city spires, Ai’s power swirling overhead, and Selene standing on Orthani’s highest tower, commanding me with a single glance.

I kneel, unashamed, craving her acceptance.

Her voice echoes: “Together, we shape Orthani or let it burn.” My dream self trembles, uncertain whether we choose flames or renewal.

By morning’s light, I’ll rise with a fresh surge of resolve.

We gambled at the council, and we won a reprieve for Selene.

I, Zareth Velcorin, once the city’s coldest psion, now stand at her side.

My illusions of mastery—avoid illusions—my illusions, nearly used that word, are gone, replaced by a wild fervor for the new path she offers.

The next day beckons with possible victory or ruin, but at least we face it together.

Yes, I think, drifting deeper into restless sleep.

Let Orthani’s council cower in ignorance.

Let the Red Purna charge blindly. We have Ai to save, a city to outmaneuver, and a future to claim.

If we succeed, the city might bow to her in time, or be forced to restructure under her hand.

And I’ll embrace whatever role she grants me, so long as I remain near that fearless blaze.

Let tomorrow’s dawn usher in the final steps of our plan.

I’ll stand behind Selene’s throne or kneel at her feet, whichever she demands.

I only know that walking away is no longer an option.