The rhythmic, ceaseless pounding of the Dwarven forges echoed faintly through the thick stone walls of the subterranean guest quarters. Damien sat on the edge of his plush mattress, staring down at his hands.
Slowly, he forced the erratic beating of his heart to steady, locking away the suffocating terror of losing his newfound family behind a wall of cold, calculated logic.
He had spent years manipulating the board, building the Black Thread, He was supposed to be untouchable.
*Knock. Knock.*
Damien froze. He took a deep breath, smoothing his expression into a portrait of calm confidence.
He pushed the vulnerability down, replacing it with the arrogant composure of 'Zero'.
"Come in," Damien said.
The heavy oak door swung open.
Stepping into the dim, subterranean light were Theron and Elizabeth Voss.
They did not radiate the apocalyptic, crushing pressure of the 9th-Order Demigods they had become during their long war in the Abyss.
