In an unknown location, a single lamp burned upon a low stone table.
Its light reached a stack of reports, an untouched cup, and the hands of the demoness kneeling beside them. Beyond that small circle, darkness concealed the walls and the figure seated in a high-backed chair.
He had listened without interrupting. The demoness had needed to repeat only one part of her report.
The arrival of the God of War.
Had Ivara or Sava been present, neither would have needed an explanation of who occupied that chair. To the Second Claw and the Voice, he was simply Him.
But he was not a demon.
He was a Daemon.
His presence barely disturbed the room. Even so, the demoness kept her breathing measured. Whenever her attention drifted toward the darkness above the chair, she felt as though something had noticed her long before she thought to look.
"It seems the child called Blackmoon has done something none of us planned for."
The voice was calm, and with a trace of amusement.
