'Vaelith, speak telepathically directly to Duke's mind. Tell him the message is from me and that he has to trust in and support what I'm about to do. Tell him that Isolde is possessed by an Invader. The one speaking with him isn't Isolde, and she has probably been possessed for years.'
The words settled like falling ash, silent yet suffocating in their weight. Deep within Bruce's consciousness, Vaelith stirred. It did not panic. But it understood the gravity of everything.
[Very well.]
Across from him, Duke sat relaxed, one ankle resting lightly over the opposite knee, fingers draped loosely over the armrest as though he were merely enjoying an afternoon exchange in a pleasant court rather than standing at the edge of something that could fracture kingdoms.
Isolde was still speaking, her tone smooth, unhurried, perfectly composed.
"Authority is not oppression," she said calmly. "It is structure. Without structure, strength disperses. And dispersed strength is easily devoured."
