Chapter 6:
Bane’s Existence
The chamber of the Templar of Being stretched endlessly, carved from black obsidian and lit by torches that burned with violet flames. Shadows danced unnaturally along the walls, as if alive, curling toward the dais where Shadow, the Witch of Existence, reclined in a swirling cloak of smoke. Her silver eyes gleamed like moonlight on ice, cold and fathomless.
Before her, twenty members of the cult were arranged in precise ranks: the Top Seven, the mid-tier specialists, and the lower-tier operatives. Every one of them radiated menace, loyalty, and death.
Shadow: “The anomaly grows. Elias Thorne… the boy near Frosthaven. He is untested, but I wish to see what he is made of.” Her voice was soft yet absolute, each word vibrating through the chamber like a bell tolling doom.
Top Seven – Elite Operatives
Hel – Mistress of the DeadMid-Tier Specialists (8–14)
Váli – The Avenger – Induces rage, turns allies against each other. Hot-headed, enjoys chaos.Lower-Tier Operatives (15–20)
Aegir – The Drowned Lord – Water manipulation, can drown or restrain targets.Shadow’s eyes swept the chamber. “Twenty threads of existence. Each of you a perfect instrument of my will. Elias Thorne… he is the first to be tested. Observe him, manipulate his reality, and expose his limits.”
Hel: “Mistress, I can prepare the spirits to haunt him. His life force will tremble at their presence.”
Fenrir: “I am ready to strike should he falter.”
Jörmungandr: “Patience. We bind him carefully; a trap too soon will fail.”
Helaheim: “I will ensure he cannot detect us. Shadows will be my cloak.”
Sköll: “Every movement, every breath… I will know.”
Hati: “Darkness will conceal my approach until the moment is right.”
Váli smirked. “Shall we induce a little chaos in his mind beforehand?”
Shadow: “Yes. Mid-tier specialists, craft subtle misfortune, sow doubt, and force him to choose poorly. Lower-tier operatives, prepare contingencies. Scouts, traps, and illusions. Do not allow him a safe path.”
Freyja: “I will make even luck betray him.”
Skadi: “Cold and ice will test his endurance. He will feel the bite of death without knowing its source.”
Týr: “I will strip him of any advantage, weaken him quietly.”
Sleipnir: “I will observe, report, and intervene if he slips through other threads.”
Búri: “I will ensure his memories betray him, leading him into my traps.”
From the lower-tier operatives, Aegir, Ran, Bragi, Hrimnir, Mimir, and Eir nodded silently, each ready to execute their portion of the plan. Water, sound, frost, intelligence, healing—everything was coordinated.
Shadow’s silver eyes glimmered. “Remember—this is not a direct assault. Elias must feel the weight of existence itself. He will stumble, he will die… and through it all, he will awaken. Every failure, every heartbeat… every loop… will belong to me.”
The 20 members of the Templar bowed as one. Their shadows merged with the darkness of the chamber, a living web of inevitability.
Shadow (softly, almost to herself): “Soon… the boy will learn the truth of existence. And when he dies, the echoes will belong to me.”
Outside, Frosthaven lay peaceful in the snow, unaware of the web being woven around it. The storm was not just wind and ice—it was patience, calculation, and the looming presence of the Templar of Being.
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