Watcher of Fate

As time began to creep forward, Elara felt the explosive collar around her neck shudder and then break apart. Her [Shadow Hands] had finished the job, disintegrating the device just as her form dissolved into a cloud of smoke. In that instant, her [Shadow Clone] materialized seamlessly where she had stood, maintaining the guise of Lady Selya. No one in the garden noticed the substitution, their attention captivated by the dramatic arrival of the [Deep Dragon].

Elara reappeared within the deepest shadows of the villa, several stories up, just behind Lady Selya. The Matron stood by an open window overlooking the garden, her gaze fixed intently on the unfolding scene below. Unaware of Elara's presence or that she was now free of the collar, Lady Selya watched with a mix of anticipation and cold satisfaction.

A whisper brushed against Elara's mind. "Elara, Mira is safe. She's been pulled into your [Spirit Domain]," Quill communicated.

Thank you, Quill, she replied silently, relief washing over her. Keep her calm. I'll join you both as soon as I can.

From her concealed vantage point, Elara observed the garden illuminated by the soft glow of luminescent flora. The [Deep Dragon] descended, its massive wings stirring the air into swirling eddies that rustled the exotic plants below. Guests shielded their faces as dust and petals whipped around them. With a ground-shaking thud, the dragon landed at the garden's edge, folding its colossal wings with a grace that belied its size. Seated elegantly atop the dragon's neck was Lady Yathrin of House Val'ryn.

Elara's [Shadow Clone] stepped forward in the garden below, a poised smile gracing her lips. In a flawless imitation of Lady Selya, the clone called out, "Welcome to my party, Lady Yathrin. Bringing a dragon as your plus one stretches the norms for these events."

Elara extended her hand into the dark folds of her own shadow, her fingers slipping through the cool, ethereal veil of her [Spirit Domain]. Slowly, she drew her equipment forth from the void, her jewelry, [Demon Tournament Guards], [Living Steel Cuirass], and the ominous [Mask of Shifting Moods], all appearing as though rising from the very depths of the shadows surrounding her.

"Selya," Lady Yathrin replied, her voice carrying effortlessly across the space. "I thought a grand entrance was appropriate for such an... auspicious occasion."

The [Deep Dragon] fixed its luminescent eyes on the clone. A low rumble emanated from deep within its chest, and the ground beneath seemed to vibrate with its restrained power.

Piece by piece, she began to arm herself in silence. The cuirass settled against her chest with the comforting heft of protection, its surface gleaming faintly in the dim light that filtered through the villa’s bioluminescent gardens. She tightened the straps, each movement deliberate, her focus unbroken from the scene playing out below in the garden. Her mask shifted subtly, the ink across its surface pooling and swirling as it mirrored her controlled but simmering emotions.

From her hidden perch in the villa, Elara watched the scene unfold like a macabre play, her sharp eyes flicking between the clone and Lady Selya. The Matron leaned forward slightly, a predatory gleam in her eyes, poised to strike, oblivious to the danger lurking mere feet behind her. Elara could feel the tension thickening as the trap was about to spring, trusting that her [Cognizance] skill would go unnoticed and that Mira was probably safe. Steadying her breath, fully geared, she brought up the information box on Lady Selya, preparing for the moment she would step out of the shadows and end this.

[Lvl 34 Drow Matron (Rare: 862)]

Lady Selya did not move from her window viewpoint. The clone continued, her tone laced with a delicate hint of irony. "Indeed, your presence adds a certain... flair to the evening. I trust the journey was uneventful?"

"As uneventful as one might expect when traveling with a dragon," Lady Yathrin replied smoothly. "Though I must admit, I'm surprised by the gathering tonight. Such a select guest list."

"I felt it was time to foster unity among our houses," the clone said. "After all, we share more common interests than not."

Lady Yathrin dismounted from her dragon with effortless grace. "An admirable goal," she said, her voice edged with underlying tension. "However, one must wonder why certain houses were excluded."

From the shadows, Elara observed Lady Selya's reaction. A faint smirk played on the Matron's lips as she reached into the folds of her elaborate gown. Her fingers closed around a slender, ornate device etched with intricate runes, a magical trigger. Elara's eyes widened slightly as she guessed what it was. The device was likely the key to unleashing whatever deadly spell Lady Selya had prepared.

As Lady Yathrin stepped forward, Lady Selya subtly pressed a hidden button on the device. A barely perceptible energy pulse rippled outward, detectable only to those attuned to such forces. Elara felt a tingling sensation wash over her, the air becoming charged with latent power.

The clone met Lady Yathrin's gaze with calm confidence. "An oversight, perhaps. Or simply the limitations of space and time," she replied evenly. "I'm sure we can rectify that in future gatherings."

Lady Selya's eyes never left the scene below. Her expression was one of serene satisfaction as if she were an artisan admiring the culmination of a meticulously crafted masterpiece. Elara could sense the cold calculation behind her gaze, a predator confident of its imminent triumph.

Stepping silently from the shadows, Elara allowed herself to become visible, her masked figure a stark contrast against the dim light filtering through the chamber. "And what happens after the explosion?" she asked calmly, her voice echoing softly in the stillness.

Lady Selya started at the unexpected intrusion, her composure faltering for just a heartbeat. She whirled around, eyes narrowing as they fell upon the masked individual. Recognition flickered in her gaze as she discerned Elara beneath the disguise. Her initial surprise melted into a sly smile. "Ah, it's you," she said smoothly. "I should have known you were resourceful enough to find me."

Elara remained poised, her eyes fixed on the Matron. "So, tell me," she pressed. "What happens after your grand display of fireworks?"

Lady Selya chuckled lightly, a cold, mirthless sound. "After the explosion, we will eliminate any remaining survivors," she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. "I will emerge wounded but alive—a resilient Matron who narrowly escaped an attack by revolting slaves. I'll declare martial law and place a moratorium on filling the vacant seats on the council until we can navigate this time of open conflict."

She began to pace slowly, her hands clasped behind her back. "In the ensuing chaos, we'll take a few weeks to root out and deal with any dissenters. I'll seize the holdings of the deceased Matrons, expanding my influence. Once stability is restored, we'll reopen the council seats to new Matrons who, naturally, will be indebted to me. With my enhanced power base, they'll be easily guided."

Elara listened intently, noting the satisfaction that dripped from Lady Selya's words. The Matron's eyes gleamed as she continued, "Of course, I will be above suspicion. After all, I was already victimized by these treacherous slaves, my payroll robbed, my garden destroyed, and my loyal troops lost while managing the fallout of Lady Yathrin's ineptitude and her decades of weakening our people."

"Sounds like a comprehensive plan," Elara remarked evenly. "May I have the control wand to my collar and be on my way?"

Lady Selya regarded her with a condescending smile. "But of course," she said, reaching into a pocket concealed within the folds of her ornate gown. She drew forth the slender control wand, its surface etched with arcane symbols as she extended it toward Elara, a wide, malicious grin spread across her face. "Here you are."

She channeled magic into the wand in a swift motion, the runes along its length igniting with a sinister glow.

Elara tilted her head slightly. "I can't decide if I'm more disappointed or amused that you just tried to kill me," she mused. "I had hoped to take the wand and leave simply, but now you've made it clear that you have to die."

Lady Selya's grin faded, her eyes hardening. "Insolent girl," she hissed. Without hesitation, she began to weave a spell, orange threads of crackling electricity sparking to life between her fingers.

At that precise moment, a thunderous explosion shook the villa, rattling the very foundations. The windows shattered inward, a storm of glass shards cascading into the room. Lady Selya faltered in her spellcasting, momentarily thrown off balance by the loud blast.

Seizing the opportunity, Elara surged forward with lethal grace, her hands weaving the threads of [Shadow Hand] as she moved. Dark tendrils of shadow coiled from her fingertips, snaking toward the collar wand in Lady Selya's grasp. As the Matron began to react, Elara’s shadowy hand latched onto the wand, wrenching it from Selya’s grip. Elara delivered a powerful kick to Lady Selya's chest in the same fluid motion, the impact reverberating through the room. Time seemed to slow as Lady Selya's eyes widened in shock, her body flung backward, crashing through the fractured window behind her.

Elara watched as Lady Selya plummeted toward the inferno consuming the garden below, her screams swallowed by the roaring flames and chaos unleashed by the explosion.

Without hesitation, Elara extended her arms, her mind racing as she began weaving the threads of her spell. White threads of light and silver threads of force spun together between her fingers, their energy crackling with raw potential. As the spell took shape, shadows clung to the woven threads, wrapping around them like dark tendrils eager for life. The once radiant wings transformed, the shadows empowering them, turning their once brilliant forms into dark, shadowy appendages.

The [Umbral Wings] unfurled from her back, their feathered forms shimmering with a blend of shadow and light, flickering like flames caught between worlds. With a mighty thrust, she propelled herself forward through the shattered window, the wings beating silently as they carried her swiftly into the night. The darkness embraced her as she pursued the falling Matron, the flames from the explosion casting a flickering glow across her shadowed figure.

Lady Selya lay on the ground, dazed but alive, her body marked by minor burns and bruises from the fall. She stirred weakly, her expression twisted in pain and disbelief, yet still clinging to life. The fall had hurt her, but not enough to end her treachery.

Elara’s eyes shifted past Selya to the towering form of the [Deep Dragon], crumpled on the far edge of the garden. Its once-glorious wings were tattered, its scales scorched and splintered. The beast let out a low, guttural growl as it struggled to uncurl its massive body, revealing the broken form of Lady Yathrin beneath it. Despite the carnage, Yathrin was still breathing, barely. Her armor was cracked, her face bloodied, but the elder Matron clung to life, a miracle in itself given the devastation.

Elara wasted no time. She reached into her shadow, pulling [Quenya] forth from the depths of her [Spirit Domain]. The blade materialized in her hand, its edge gleaming with shadowy vapor as if it were alive with Elara’s intent. With a flick of her wrist, she also slipped the control wand for her collar back into the safety of her [Spirit Domain].

The garden crackled and burned around her, the roar of the distant fire almost drowned out by the slow, labored breaths of the dragon. Elara's gaze fixed on Lady Selya, who was slowly beginning to push herself up, unaware of the blade now aimed in her direction. The balance of power was shifting, and Elara could feel the weight of her resolve settling into place.