Kaelen sensed the anomaly the moment he crossed the threshold of his private pavilion in the center of the camp. It wasn't the sharp, metallic tang of an assassination attempt, but a deep, resonant hum in his blood—a biological induction between an Insect King and a Broodmother.
His eyes narrowed, pupils contracting to slits. He stepped inside, feigning indifference.
In the corner of the tent, a figure shrouded in a black cloak crouched in the shadows. Their presence was so utterly suppressed they felt like a void in the room, a ghost in the fabric of reality.
"Hmph... throwing yourself into the net, are we?"
Kaelen scoffed, ignoring the intruder as he strode to the round table. He uncorked a flagon of vintage wine acquired from the Silent Goblet and poured himself a drink, his demeanor practically shouting that he was unbothered.
