Lyrax stood in the grand hall of the Arcane Council. Seven empty seats, seven extinguished soul sparks. The moment each spark died, their final sliver of memory had surged into him, revealing exactly what happened, how they were killed, who killed them.
Silva. And his group.
By protocol, Lyrax's next action should have been obvious: use the slivers of their souls to reconstruct their bodies using the Council's stored resources. It would take time, but the seven members would return.
But Lyrax had no intention of reviving them.
This was his moment. His opportunity to finally take control and become what he always believed he was meant to be.
The Arcane Council had always been the strongest power on the planet. Every organization listened to them, followed them. But that power only existed as long as people believed the Council members still lived. And no one knew they were dead. No one except him.
