Deep within the corrupted woods, miles away from the stench and chaos of the main Morveth war camp, lay a hidden pavilion.
Carved into the ruins of an ancient stone temple, Zarvok had turned the secluded alcove into a luxurious retreat, draping it in heavy silks and thick animal pelts.
Zarvok leaned back against a pile of thick pelts, his tall, lean frame radiating raw, bestial authority.
He was of a dragon-like reptilian lineage, his body covered in dark-crimson scales that overlapped like natural armor and gleamed beneath the firelight.
Sharp horns swept back from his head, framing his predatory, slitted golden eyes and powerful reptilian features as they tracked the three female Morveth attending him.
Vexa, her dark skin speckled with crimson scales along her cheekbones and twin slender horns curving through her hair, leaned in boldly, her sharp claw tracing the rugged ridges of his jaw.
Beside his knee sat Nyssa, an elegant female with pale dusky skin, feline eyes, and a smooth tail that curled lazily around his leg.
Kaelith, the youngest and most mischievous of the three, brushed her pointed ears back as she poured dark wine into Zarvok’s silver goblet, her obsidian-scaled shoulders shifting gracefully.
"You are far too relaxed, Zarvok," Nyssa murmured, her tail flicking playfully. "Should you not be at Commander Vorgath’s side?"
Zarvok let out a deep laugh.
"I’ve done what I needed to do. All that’s left now is to enjoy myself until the reinforcements arrive. Once they do, we’ll move."
He raised his goblet with a satisfied grin and gave Nyssa a playful wink. "Until then, I’d rather not waste my strength on marching and battlefield chores. There are far better ways to spend it."
Kaelith leaned forward, her feline eyes narrowing with teasing curiosity.
"I heard a whisper from the scouts. A human boy took command of Blackthorn—the son of one of their supreme dukes."
"Aren’t you afraid that taking the head of such a high-born brat might bring those legendary human rulers hunting for your hide?"
Zarvok threw his head back, his booming laughter echoing off the stone walls.
"Fear human rulers?" Zarvok sneered, taking a long drink.
"I’m not afraid of humans," Zarvok said with a low chuckle. "If killing one human commander were enough to bring their strongest rulers marching into these woods, we wouldn’t be standing here so comfortably."
He took another drink, his golden eyes narrowing with quiet confidence.
"Vorgath knows exactly where to draw the line. And if the humans decide to cross it, there are others above him who will answer them. So no, I don’t intend to lose sleep over a dead human heir."
Vexa giggled, running her claw-tipped fingers along his thick, crimson-scaled chest. "Ah, so delightfully arrogant. That confidence is why we adore you. But tell us... what would you do if one of those human monsters suddenly appeared right in front of your face?"
"I’d tear his throat out with these claws and drink his blood from this very cup!"
Zarvok barked with a savage grin, raising his goblet before giving the women a playful wink, making all three women burst into delighted, breathless laughter.
The women soon settled into softer giggles, exchanging flirty glances as they continued praising his strength and basking in the prestige that came with being one of Vorgath’s favored direct lieutenants.
The pavilion filled with the gentle clinking of goblets and murmured conversation, Zarvok basking in their admiration, completely untroubled by the world beyond the curtains.
Then, without a fraction of a second of warning, the temperature inside the pavilion plummeted.
It was not a gentle chill. It was a suffocating, unnatural frost that froze the wine in Zarvok’s goblet solid in an instant.
Every battle-tested instinct Zarvok possessed screamed in violent alarm. His hair stood on end, a wave of sheer, paralyzing horror slamming into his chest before his mind could even register why.
He moved to leap to his feet, his hand dropping toward the hilt of his broadsword—
Directly in front of him, the air fractured.
A pale, icy white figure hovered mid-air, bathed in a haunting blue radiance.
Long, stark-white hair floated unnaturally around its head as if suspended in deep water. Frost glitters coated its porcelain skin, and its eyes burned with cold green light.
The creature tilted its head, its lips splitting open into a wide, unsettling, soundless laugh.
Zarvok’s gaze locked onto the apparition for a split second.
What in the—
That single fraction of a second was all it took.
CRACK.
From directly behind him, a massive, dark hand tipped with razor-sharp monstrous claws tore straight through the back of his heavy armor. Steel, bone, and flesh offered zero resistance.
The claws erupted from the center of Zarvok’s chest, dripping with black blood, and tightly squeezed his still-beating heart.
Zarvok’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. A strangled gasp caught in his throat, blood spurting over his lips as his body went completely rigid.
The female Morveth shrieked in sudden, blind terror, scrambling backward across the pelts.
Before a single scream could leave the pavilion, neon-green fungal veins instantly webbed across their skin. Spores blossomed over their faces in a heartbeat, glowing with a violent, volatile light.
BOOM.
A double explosion of venomous spores and blistering heat detonated in dead silence. The women were vaporized instantly, reduced to ash and searing mist before their bodies even touched the floorboards.
Zarvok hung limply from the massive claw stuck through his chest, dark blood spilling from his jaw.
The bright green light of the fungal explosion faded, leaving behind burned stone, drifting smoke, and the sharp smell of blood.
His vision blurred, and his strength drained away fast.
Then came the quiet sound of boots walking across the stone floor.
From the dark corner of the room, a noticeably tall figure stepped into the pale moonlight.
His face was completely hidden behind a smooth silver mask, while deep shadows covered the rest of his appearance, making it impossible to see what he was wearing or what he truly looked like. Only his striking green eyes were clearly visible beneath the mask, carrying a faint hint of amusement.
His posture was completely calm and relaxed, as if he were taking a casual stroll.
He paused, looking around at the burned pelts, the spilled wine, and the ash on the ground, before turning his gaze toward Zarvok.
"What happened to tearing my throat out and drinking my blood from your cup?" the stranger asked quietly, his voice full of casual mockery.
Zarvok’s slitted eyes widened in terror. He tried to speak, but he could only choke on his own blood.
How....how had this human heard him?
How long had he been watching?
The tall man tilted his head and let out a soft laugh. "It really is a shame to ruin your pleasant night... but I have one hundred and fifty High-Grade Soul Stones on the line. I can’t afford to lose them."
Zarvok’s mind struggled to make sense of the words.
Soul Stones?
Before he could make sense of it, his body went completely numb. The last thing he saw was the mysterious man standing calmly in the ruined room, while the pale, icy figure floated beside him, laughing softly into the night.
Then everything went black.
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