I had to project confidence and sell the lie as truth.
“But mark my words, he won’t pass this by.He will be there.”
I let the certainty settle, let it dig into their doubt like a parasite.
“He wants to stay abreast of the Harbingers of Temporal Terror.”
At the mention of their society’s name, I saw the faintest twitch in Lord Winston’s expression—pride, greed, anticipation.
I held his gaze—unyielding.
Lord Alexander, ever the grand puppeteer of his sick theater, grinned.
A grin that could curdle blood.
“And they shall all be witnesses,” he declared, his voice ripe with amusement as he turned toward Winston.
My stomach twisted.
Something was coming.
Something worse.
“When I announce your betrothal and elevate you as my successor, Phineas.”
Silence.
A slow, thick, suffocating silence.
Then—Lord Winston’s lips stretched into a twisted parody of joy.
“I can hardly wait,” he wheezed, the air souring around him, thick with his perverse satisfaction.
The edges of my vision blurred.Elizabeth.
This was their game.
Their twisted, rotting plan.
“To display my beautiful bride and finally capture the Black Wraith.”
His clouded, milky eyes gleamed with disgusting glee.
“We’ll torture him before the society—no, before all the societies!”
Lord Winston’s breath rattled, his ravenous anticipation thickening the air.“It shall be a spectacle to remember!”
I did not flinch.
I remained still.
A statue shaped from flesh and bone.
They spoke of me.Planned my demise.They wove their intricate web of death without realizing their target sat right before them.
“Elizabeth will prepare a powerful poison…”
Her father’s voice slithered through the room, each syllable drenched in smug certainty.
