Zyreth had Neve and Popi locked in one of the rooms connected to his cave deep beneath the ground.
He had purposely stationed guards outside the room door. Multiple guards. Strong guards. Guards loyal only to him. He did this to make sure his right-hand man, would not do anything stupid to them. Would not try to claim them. Would not attempt to use them for his own purposes.
As long as they were locked away safely under guard, they were Zyreth's property. His prisoners. His leverage against the world.
Due to the teleportation, both Neve and Popi had fallen unconscious during the journey to the outcast territory. They were not used to traveling that way. Or maybe they were just too weak to handle it. Zyreth did not care about the reason. As long as he had them in his grasp now, especially Neve, nothing else mattered.
He was sitting on his throne in his personal chamber, plucking petals from a black flower. The petals were dark and twisted like everything in the outcast territory.
