[Sara POV] Year 5, Day 198 (Evening)

  Sara waited near the landing pads. Dark outside. Nobody noticed Sara standing there despite lots of people moving around. Busy evening. Airships arriving. Travelers departing.

  Lucky 32 had arrived some time ago. Sara had felt it. Through the soul tracking talisman. Dominos, the poisoner lady, was there. Inside the airship. Sara could sense her location.

  But Sara couldn't go inside. Too public. Too many people. Too risky.

  [Wait here. Near pink trees. That's what Sara and Dominos agreed. Meeting spot. Easy to find. Private enough.]

  Sara stood in shadows. Between trees. Watching. Waiting.

  Lots of people moving past. Adventurers. Merchants. Travelers. None noticed Sara. Dark helped. Trees helped. Professional hiding.

  [Friend will come. Just wait. Be patient. Don't do anything stupid.]

  Then Sara saw her. Dominos. Coming out from airship terminal. Looking around. Bit confused initially. Searching for something.

  Then she spotted the pink trees. Understanding visible. Walked that direction. Purposeful. Professional.

  Sara also noticed something else. Dominos's clothing. Had enchantments. The waste management kind. The ones that handled... accidents.

  [Oh. Friend is nervous. Worried about meeting Sara. Prepared as much as possible. Made sure clothing could handle fear responses. Smart. Professional. Sara approves.]

  Dominos reached the trees. Saw Sara. Stopped.

  Sara tried to be nice. Welcoming. Good host.

  "Welcome to Borderwatch. Sara hopes trip was nice."

  Dominos smiled. Genuine. "It was nice. Never flew first class before. It was interesting. Thank you for the gift."

  Sara felt happiness. [Friend liked gift. First class tickets were good choice. Sara pleased.]

  "Let's go. Sara's home waiting." Sara gestured. "Sara will carry. Faster that way."

  Dominos nodded. Understanding. Accepting.

  Sara picked her up. Princess carry. Careful. Gentle. Don't hurt friend. Don't drop friend. Don't do anything stupid.

  Wings spreading. Launch. Flight direction: cave. S-rank haunt. Home.

  [Friend is coming to Sara's home. FIRST friend EVER. Everything ready. Cave prepared. Snakes protecting. Dress is complete. Everything perfect.]

  [Best day. Absolute best day. Sara is very pleased.]

  The night sky opened above them. Stars visible. Wind cold but manageable.

  Friend visiting. Dress complete. Everything going right.

  [Sara is happy. Sara has friends now. Plural. More than one. Dominos. Dress. Both friends. Both Sara's. Both real.]

  Sara flew faster. Home waiting. Perfect evening ahead.

  Sara put up small air barrier around Dominos. Protected from wind. From speed. From cold.

  [Usually Sara doesn't bother. But being careful now. Don't want friend uncomfortable. Good host protects guests.]

  Soon they flew over S-rank haunt. Not fully dark yet. Some visibility left. Twilight.

  Under them—monster sounds everywhere. Roars. Screams. Fighting. Even magical explosions in distance. Constant chaos. Evolutionary combat happening all the time. Monsters never slept. Always fighting. Always competing. Always killing. Especially in S-rank haunts.

  Dominos watched it all. Mouth open. Staring down.

  Sara worried. [Friend looks broken. Too much information. Too much scary. Brain stopped working properly.]

  "Friend okay?" Sara asked.

  Dominos managed words. Slow. Careful. "All okay. Just... heard about this. Tourist trips to S-rank haunts. Cost fortunes. Made by multiple S-rank parties working together."

  She paused. Still staring. "Seeing it like this though. Flying over it. All the fighting. All the monsters..."

  Brain clearly half-frozen. Awe and fear mixed together. Processing impossible to complete.

  [Friend overwhelmed. But not running. That's good. Sara keeps flying. Almost home.]

  They landed in front of cave. Simple entrance. Natural rock. Nothing special about exterior.

  But snakes were there.

  Six snakes. Sleeping. Using cave entrance as resting place. Massive serpents coiled together. Thirty to fifty meters long. S-rank apex predators. Right there at entrance.

  Dominos saw them.

  Total panic. Immediate.

  Sara detected it. Waste enchantment activated. Accident happened. Friend was beyond terrified.

  Dominos started shaking violently. Trying to pull away. Trying to run. Pure survival instinct.

  Sara held tighter. Gentle but firm. Don't let friend run. Don't let friend get hurt.

  "Friend, wait! These are good kids! They won't hurt you! You're with Sara! They know! Right, snakes?"

  The snakes lifted their heads. Nodded. Fast. Synchronized. Agreement. Obedience.

  [Good snakes. Doing exactly what Sara asked. Being nice. Being welcoming.]

  It helped somewhat. Dominos stopped trying to run. But still shaking. Still watching those massive monsters with pure terror. Hugging Sara desperately. Like Sara was only safe thing in nightmare.

  [Friend still scared. Very scared. But staying. Not running. Progress.]

  But then more snakes arrived.

  [Oh no.]

  Few more appeared from patrol routes. Coming to greet. Sara had told them before—friend coming, be nice, welcome properly.

  [Sara making it worse. More snakes = more scary. Should have thought this through better.]

  And the new arrivals brought gifts. Monster corpses. Fresh kills. Dragged over. Dropped near Sara and friend. Close. Very close.

  Blood. Gore. Torn flesh. Professional welcome offerings from monster perspective.

  Dominos made small sound. Whimper maybe. Terror escalating. Shaking even harder.

  [Friend about to break. Too much. Way too much. Sara needs to end this NOW.]

  "Thank you, snakes! Very nice gifts! Sara appreciates!" Fast words. Rushed. "But friend is tired. Long travel. Sara calling night now. Go rest. All of you. Good kids. Go sleep."

  The snakes understood. Nodded. Withdrew. Returned to positions. Settled down. Professional obedience.

  Sara kept holding Dominos. Princess carry. Supporting. Making sure friend didn't collapse or run or do something dangerous.

  "Let's go inside. Away from snakes. Into home. Everything safe inside. Promise."

  Sara walked into cave. Still holding friend tight. Friend still shaking. Still hugging Sara desperately.

  Cave looked simple from outside. Just rock.

  But moment Sara entered—magical lights started turning on. One by one. Illuminating. Revealing.

  The view transformed completely.

  Not cave. Castle interior. Rich home. Fancy furniture everywhere. Polished walls. Decorated floor. Artistic details. Everything arranged beautifully. Perfect presentation. Professional work.

  Dominos's shock got bigger. Different shock. Not terror. Awe. Disbelief. Incomprehension.

  She stared. Eyes wide. Brain processing. Failing to process. Trying again.

  Tried to talk. No words. Tried again. Finally managed single question:

  "How?"

  Sara felt proud. Happy. This reaction was good reaction. Better than terror outside.

  "Sara used last few weeks preparing. Even had builders work here hard. They made everything nice. Beautiful. For friend."

  Dominos still staring. Mind clearly frozen. Then asked carefully: "We... alone? The builders?"

  "Nah, monsters ate them all." Sara said it simply. Casually. "Stupid builders. Didn't listen Sara. Went outside during night. Sara told them not to. They did anyway."

  Dominos went rigid again.

  [Oh. Friend getting scared again. Sara making it worse. Need to fix. Need to explain better.]

  "But friend is safe!" Sara added quickly. Trying to help. "Sara instructed snakes properly! If you end up outside alone for some reason, they will petrify you first, then return you safely here. Snakes can undo petrification. So you won't get eaten like—"

  [Wait. Friend shaking harder. Petrification explanation not helping. Stop talking. Stop making everything worse.]

  Sara stopped. Changed approach.

  Friend was shaking hard. Too much stress. About to break completely. Need rest. Need calm. Need to fix this situation.

  "Maybe friend wants rest?" Sara asked carefully. Gentle. "Long day? Too much travel? Too much scary?"

  Dominos nodded. Fast. Desperate. Yes. Sleep. Please. Escape.

  Sara carried her to large bed. Beautiful one. Fancy. Expensive-looking.

  "Sara took this from elven princess bedroom. After job. Very comfortable. Very nice."

  [Should probably not mention it was assassination job. Or that princess didn't survive. Friend is poisoner, might not even care about assassination work. But Sara already scared friend too much. Don't want to risk saying more wrong things.]

  Sara placed Dominos down carefully. Gentle. Making sure bed was comfortable. Making sure friend was safe.

  "Sara will make calming tea. Help friend rest. Make everything better."

  Sara went to kitchen area. Small setup. Functional. Had everything needed.

  [Calming tea. Special blend. Learned from watching Ealdred's lessons. He taught about various teas for special situations. This one helps stress. Helps sleep. Helps people stop being scared.]

  Sara prepared it carefully. Proper temperature. Proper steeping time. Everything exact.

  [Sara tested it same day when builders escaped. Had feeling it might be needed for friend's visit. Didn't want to share with builders—they had massive trust issues already. Plus needed them functional to finish construction. Not drugged. Not sleeping.]

  [Found some adventurers instead. More like saved them. They were clearly over their heads in S-rank haunt. Everything trying to kill them. So when Sara got them to cave safely and offered calming tea, was hoping it would work wonders. Help them relax. Recover. Be grateful.]

  [But they were too worked up. Panicked. Never agreed to drink. Blamed Sara for random things like kidnapping. Called Sara monster. Were very rude. So Sara force-fed tea to them. Worked very nicely. They calmed down. Stopped screaming. Fell asleep peacefully.]

  [Then fed them to snakes afterward. They were rude to Sara. Rude people get fed to snakes. Fair.]

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  [But builders saw it. Heard it. Got delusional ideas Sara might feed them to monsters too. So they ran. Stupid. Sara was nice to builders. Treated them well. But they panicked anyway. Ran into monster territory at night. Got eaten. Their own fault.]

  [Tea works though. Very effective. Sure this will help Dominos. Friend will be calm. Will sleep well. Won't run away like stupid builders.]

  Sara brought tea to friend. "Drink. Will help. Make calm. Make sleep good."

  Dominos took it. Drank fast. Desperate. Hoping for relief.

  The tea worked quickly. Very strong blend. Effective. Her eyes started closing. Body relaxing. Tension releasing.

  Few minutes later—asleep. Completely asleep. Peaceful even. Tea doing job perfectly.

  Sara sat next to bed. Watching Dominos sleep. Making sure nothing disturbed rest.

  [Friend is safe. Friend is sleeping. Friend survived visit. Success. Mostly. Some scary parts. But friend stayed. Didn't run away completely. That's good.]

  Then dress spoke. First real question. First communication as unified being.

  ?Blood??

  Dress's worry was clear. Did we do well? Friend looks strange. Different from expected. Wrong somehow?

  Sara thought about it. Honest self-assessment. What went wrong? What could improve?

  [Maybe Sara overdid it. Six snakes at entrance, then more arriving with corpse gifts. Too much at once. Too much explaining about dead builders and petrification. Should have introduced slower. One scary thing at a time. Not everything simultaneously. But Sara was excited. Wanted to show friend everything. Wanted to prove Sara prepared well. Wanted friend impressed.]

  Sara sent thought to dress. Clear. Honest.

  [Sara thinks we overdid it. Too much scary at once. But friend survived. Friend stayed. Friend is sleeping in Sara's home right now. That's success. The rest is learning. Practice. Next visit Sara will be better host. Introduce things slower. Less scary all at once. Show snakes one at a time maybe. Won't mention dead builders at all. Everyone learns. Even Sara. Even dress.]

  ?Blood!?

  Oh, dress understands. Wants to learn together. Wants to be good like Sara. Wants friend to like visiting. Wants friend to come back. Dress agrees with Sara. Dress is such a good boy.

  [Yes. Friend must come back. Sara will make sure next time is better. Less terrifying. More comfortable. More normal. Whatever normal means for monster home.]

  Sara continued watching Dominos sleep. Guard duty. Protection. Making sure rest was undisturbed.

  [Friend came to Sara's home. FIRST friend EVER. Some scary happened. Some mistakes made. But friend is here. Friend is safe. Friend will wake up tomorrow and maybe not hate Sara for snake presentation.]

  [Sara has dress now. Dress talks. Dress learns. Dress will help Sara improve. Together Sara and dress will be better. Will learn hosting. Will learn friendship. Will learn how to not terrify guests completely.]

  [Good day. Very good day. Despite everything. Despite mistakes. Despite probably traumatizing friend bit too much.]

  [Found chain. Made dress talk. Fed dress properly. Picked up friend. Brought friend home. Friend survived.]

  [Plus busted evil Empire's evil secret base. That has to count for something. Perhaps Sara even did something heroic?]

  [Success. Imperfect but real. Sara will take it.]

  The cave was quiet except for Dominos's peaceful breathing.

  Outside, snakes guarded. Inside, friend rested. Dress hummed contentedly. Everything safe. Everything protected.

  [Sara is happy. Sara has friends. Sara has home worth showing. Sara has dress that talks back finally.]

  [Life is good. Better than ever before. Sara will protect this. Always.]

  [Emperor POV] Year 5, Day 198-199

  The Emperor watched Head Mage kneeling before him. Forehead pressed to the stone floor. Full prostration. The posture of absolute failure and surrender.

  She'd been like this for over an hour.

  He'd used the time to review every report. Damage assessments. Timeline reconstructions. Survivor accounts.

  [Thirty-four cities destroyed in a single day. Near-direct line across Empire territory. Attacker moved fast, hit hard, vanished before anyone could even identify what was happening. Every report says the same thing—completely out of nowhere. No warning. No intelligence suggesting anything like this was possible.]

  [Not really her failure. Not per se. Keeping the ancient forcefield permanently active would have raised far more questions than operating the base in secret. Every visiting dignitary, every merchant, every curious traveler would wonder why some unremarkable border city had fortress-grade shielding capable of containing gods. Would have drawn exactly the kind of attention we spent years avoiding. And the attack followed a near-direct line—high probability the base simply had the misfortune of being in the path. Just unlucky.]

  He set down the last report. Looked at her.

  "It's been more than an hour," the Emperor said. "How long do you plan to kneel there?"

  No answer. Just silence. Forehead against stone.

  [At least I know her well enough by now. Whatever she needs to say won't change whether she says it tonight or in three days. She'll deliver the same precise report with the same clinical detachment regardless. And this prostration isn't really about the report—it's about something else entirely.]

  He tried again. "You really want to do this? Right now?"

  No answer. But the slightest shift in her posture. The tiniest lean forward. Expectation barely concealed.

  [Ah. I see.]

  The Emperor reached into his item box. Pulled out restraints—leather straps reinforced with enchanted metal buckles, designed to bind wrists behind the body. Tossed them onto the floor next to her. They landed with a soft clatter against stone.

  "Undress and restrain yourself." His voice carried the flat certainty of command. "You've been a bad girl. And bad girls need to be punished."

  Head Mage finally moved. Lifted her head. Eyes found the restraints on the floor. She stood in one smooth motion—millennia of magical discipline turning even the act of rising from prostration into something efficient.

  Her clothes vanished. Just gone. Willed away in an instant. One moment fully dressed, next moment bare skin, like the garments had never existed at all.

  The Emperor grimaced slightly. He'd always found that unsettling—the casual totality of her control over her own clothing. How she could will garments on and off as naturally as breathing. Not illusion magic, not transformation. Just pure will imposed on fabric and thread. Unnatural even by archmage standards. Even after millennia of knowing her, something about it bothered him on a fundamental level.

  "No," the Emperor said. "Naturally. Like normal humans do."

  Her clothes reappeared. Same instant return. Then she started removing them manually. One piece at a time.

  She was exactly as terrible at it as he remembered. Mechanical. Robotic. Each garment removed with the same efficient precision she'd use to disassemble a magical apparatus on her workbench. No grace whatsoever. No sensuality. Nothing remotely appealing about the process. Just systematic undressing performed by someone who'd spent thousands of years not bothering with physical clothing removal because magic was faster.

  [Never entirely understood why she sometimes wants this. The humiliation. The surrender. Some way to offload pressure, maybe—decompress from the weight of being the most dangerous mind on the continent. Or perhaps something deeper that I've never managed to figure out, despite knowing her longer than most civilizations have existed.]

  [I've offered her the position beside me more than once over the millennia. Emperor and Empress. Ruling together as equals. She always declined. Preferred the shadows. The service. The quiet control behind the throne rather than sitting on one. And these occasional... releases.]

  He watched her finish undressing. Watched her pick up the restraints and work them around her own wrists behind her back. Metal clicking against metal. Secure.

  The Emperor began undressing himself—manually, like a civilized person—while watching Head Mage settle into her bonds. Hands locked behind her back. Waiting with a patience that was almost meditative.

  [As if those restraints actually keep her contained. Even slave collars don't work on this woman. She is the only person I've ever seen who can overpower a slave collar through sheer magical dominance. Just break it. Ignore it. Will it away like her clothing. These restraints are theater. Ritual. She could dissolve them with a thought.]

  "You know," he said, folding his robe over the chair, "I've been waiting for this. Almost looking forward to it." He glanced at her. "I just hope I can still feel my body afterward."

  Several hours and considerably less dignity later, the Emperor sat on the couch in the study. Smiling despite himself. It had been good—better than good, if he was honest. She always knew exactly how far to push, how to make him forget he was an ancient ruler carrying the weight of an empire. For those few hours he'd just been... present. Alive. Human, almost.

  But the aftermath was hitting now. His entire body was numb from the waist down and tingling everywhere else. Like every nerve had been overloaded past capacity and simply stopped reporting. The price of fun with someone whose power dwarfed his own by orders of magnitude.

  One of the lesser-known effects of intimate contact with someone whose mana reserves vastly exceeded your own—the excess magical energy seeped through sustained physical closeness, saturating the other body, overwhelming nervous systems, deadening sensation. In extreme cases it could stop hearts outright. Kill the partner mid-act without either realizing until too late.

  Head Mage's nickname in certain very private circles was "the Black Widow." Not because she was cruel or predatory—simply because most who shared her bed didn't survive the experience. The mana differential was too extreme. Their bodies couldn't handle the saturation over hours of sustained contact.

  He looked across the room at Head Mage.

  She was draped over the back of an armchair. Midsection pressed against the backrest. Arms still bound behind her. Rear prominently elevated. A position that looked almost funny.

  No—it was funny. Actually, genuinely funny. The most brilliant magical mind in the Empire, architect of the isekai harvesting system, millennia of strategic planning behind those eyes—arranged over furniture like she was posing for a particularly expensive portrait that no decent gallery would display.

  [Courtesans would charge extra for holding that pose. She begged for it with her eyes earlier. Pervert. But my pervert.]

  He let the comfortable silence stretch for a while. Then asked something that had been on his mind.

  "When was the last time someone survived having fun with you?"

  Head Mage turned her head. Looked at him from her undignified position. Clearly hadn't expected that particular question as his opening remark.

  "That's what you ask first?"

  "So nobody?" the Emperor pressed.

  Head Mage considered. Her expression shifted—something almost like fondness crossing her features. "In Central, there's an elven archmage. Healer specialist. Regenerative magic at a level I've rarely encountered." She paused. "He found me very fascinating. And I never actually hurt him—he simply out-heals everything. Faster than the mana saturation can accumulate damage. Interesting experience, actually."

  The Emperor blinked. "An elf?"

  "Quite skilled. Very enthusiastic about the magical applications of—"

  "Actually, never mind." He waved that thought away before it could form a complete image. "Now then. The damage report."

  Head Mage shifted, beginning to rise from the chair. Getting ready to face him properly, present the information with the professional posture it deserved.

  "Stop." The Emperor's voice carried easy command. "Stay exactly where you are. That's proper form for a bad girl making her confession."

  Head Mage smiled. Settled back against the chair. Then her expression turned serious—voice professional now despite the ridiculous position.

  "Almost the entire research team is dead. All senior leaders. Plus most of the operating crews for all three harvesting rings—the original installation in the capital and both new ones we constructed near the desert border." She let that sink in. "Training replacements takes years. Currently we can perhaps operate one ring, and even that not permanently."

  The Emperor processed the scale of it. Three harvesting rings. Their entire extraction infrastructure, built over years of careful preparation, staffed with irreplaceable specialists. Gone in a day.

  "So a few years of delays." He kept his voice level. Already calculating costs, timelines, adjustments. "What about the quest locking? You had that planned and nearly ready."

  Head Mage's expression darkened further. "The bonus quest slot didn't lock properly."

  "Wrong how?"

  "We spent most of that day forcing the binding parameters into final configuration. Delicate work—the quest architecture doesn't respond well to modification once the system is near activation. Then the attack hit. Every single mage managing the quest-locking process was at the base. All killed."

  She paused. Choosing words with unusual care.

  "Whatever state the modification was in when they died—it solidified. Locked into place. But not cleanly. Not how we designed it."

  "Meaning?"

  "I can't describe it any other way than 'strange.' Initially, every isekai will still receive the standard true dragon binding quest as intended. That portion works correctly. But if they don't accept the quest, the slot can theoretically mutate under extreme emotional circumstances. If the isekai loses someone close to them, experiences severe trauma, something that triggers a deep enough emotional response... the quest could reshape itself. Become something we didn't program. Something unpredictable."

  "Can it affect us?"

  "Not significantly. Unless we start killing the families of summoned isekai and deliberately making ourselves targets for their emotionally-mutated revenge quests."

  "They won't have families," the Emperor said. Practical. Final. "Not ones they'll ever get their hands on. Fresh summons arrive with no connections to this world. No loved ones to lose. The mutation trigger shouldn't have opportunity to activate."

  "Agreed. It's an imperfection rather than a crisis. Just not the clean implementation we designed."

  Silence settled between them. The Emperor thought for a moment, then asked the question that mattered most.

  "Do you have any idea what caused the attack?"

  Head Mage's expression went fully serious. The playful undertone that had survived even through the damage report vanished entirely.

  "I believe it was the daemon lord's chain. The one that was stored in the Vault of Forgotten Things in Paradise."

  The Emperor frowned. Searched his memory. There had been thousands of items in that vault over the millennia—dangerous artifacts, cursed weapons, sealed horrors collected across the Empire's long history. They should have all been obliterated when Paradise was destroyed. He couldn't place this specific chain among the countless entries in those ancient catalogs.

  Then something else registered. Something that shouldn't have been possible.

  "Wait." His voice carried genuine surprise—rare enough after ten thousand years of life. "You're telling me something actually survived the Paradise destruction?"

  "It appears so." Head Mage met his eyes directly. "There was a reason that particular item was stored in the Vault rather than destroyed outright. Nobody had any idea how to break it. Not the Empire at the height of its power. Not even dragons. Dragon King actually issued a formal proclamation—no dragon may add this chain to their hoard. The danger runs too deep. The chain would gradually brainwash its holder, corrupt their mind over time, and eventually kill them. Slow degradation. Inevitable madness."

  The Emperor remembered now. "The dragons decided it was safer to keep it in human hands. So that if something went wrong..."

  "We'd pay the price instead of them. Standard dragon risk management—let the shorter-lived species hold the dangerous things. Generous of them, as always."

  "The chain." The Emperor leaned forward slightly, ignoring the numbness in his body. "Should we be worried?"

  Head Mage considered carefully before answering. Taking her time with it, which meant the question wasn't as simple as he'd hoped.

  "Hard to say definitively. If we're lucky, the chain will drive its new wielder insane. It has that historical pattern—even the original daemon lord who created it was more or less mad by the end. You need extraordinarily strong willpower to control something like that without it consuming you. And crazy people aren't that difficult to identify and eliminate."

  She shifted slightly against the chair. "And even setting the madness aside—the chain itself isn't particularly impressive in direct combat terms. It's fundamentally a weapon of terror against unprotected populations. Mass blood drain over wide areas. Devastating against civilian targets, against cities without proper magical defenses. But against actual organized military force with appropriate countermeasures? Upper end of SS-rank at best. Dangerous, certainly. But manageable if we commit proper resources."

  "So we monitor. Watch for signs of activation. Wait for it to make noise."

  "Keep eyes open. Given that they just drained thirty-four cities, they're not exactly subtle. Either we find them first, or someone else does—this kind of bloodshed earns you an enemy-of-the-world designation fast. Every nation, every guild, every mercenary company with ambition will be hunting them soon enough. And if the chain drives them mad before any of that, the problem resolves itself."

  The Emperor nodded. Enough business for one evening.

  "Go fix yourself," he said. Not unkindly. "Long day tomorrow. And we still have the trip to Central to prepare for."

  Head Mage raised an eyebrow from her position over the chair. "You still want to go? After all this?"

  "Of course I still want to go." He almost laughed at the question. "We show up. We smile. We act like nothing happened."

  He leaned back against the couch. Thinking already. Planning.

  "Besides—Church State is tearing itself apart with their civil war. Every diplomat, every merchant guild, every intelligence network on the continent is watching that mess. Nobody will be paying attention to quiet border cities on our side when there's holy war to gossip about."

  He allowed himself a thin smile. "We bury this disaster while the world looks the other direction."

  Already giving orders in his head. Seal the affected areas. Blame a plague—something contagious enough to justify quarantine zones but mundane enough that nobody investigates too closely. Relocate survivors from neighboring settlements before they start asking questions. Redirect trade routes. Forge census records showing gradual population decline over years rather than sudden disappearance. The Empire had done this before. Smaller scale, but the methods were the same.

  He met her eyes. "Too much at stake for anything less."

  Head Mage smiled at that. Not her professional smile. Not her plotting smile. The private one—warm, genuine, reserved exclusively for him. The one that carried millennia of loyalty and shared purpose and something neither of them had ever bothered to name.

  "Yes, Emperor. Thank you, Emperor."