Lord Vilnesh paced back and forth over the lush rug that carpeted his private quarters, his mind flashing through a million thoughts every few seconds. While the rest of the Enclave prepared for war, the powerful Great One was essentially hiding away and refused to speak to anyone. Not because he was scared, of course, because that kind of emotion was so foreign to him that he didn’t think it could ever actually affect him; instead, he was consumed with creating and discarding plans concerning his progeny.

  Even after his spawn somehow managed to kill Chinli, the weakest Great One inside of the Enclave, he had considered this “Fusionist” to only be a minor threat to them; at the same time, Vilnesh did his best to distance himself from the half-breed because of the repercussions an association with him would produce. That didn’t work out so well, as it turned out, because when Farmas and Syrlia went after him, only to discover how talented he was in creating Fusions, their report required him to be a bit more forthcoming with his knowledge about his offspring than he cared to share.

  But that was all in the past. No one cared that this “Fusionist” vermin was his spawn anymore, especially after everyone felt the deaths of yet two more of their number a short week ago, and almost everyone was out for blood. However, the fact that no one had left the Enclave yet to go searching for the upstart half-breed was due to a pair of holdouts.

  Lord Vilnesh was one of them. While he also felt strongly about the deaths of Farmas and Syrlia, he also saw this whole situation as an opportunity. Almost every single Great One had seen and evaluated a few examples of the Fusions that had been created by his offspring, and while most of them scoffed at the unnecessary time and expense required to produce such work, Vilnesh saw something else.

  Progress.

  It was no secret that the Great Ones had been fairly stagnant in their development for centuries, as after they had all survived the initial arrival of foreign energy into the world, they had essentially maxed-out their Skills within a few centuries of ruling the Kingdom from the shadows. There were no longer any difficult opponents to fight, no challenging battles wherein they could learn how to improve themselves, and no opportunities to develop something new to add to their overall power. In other words, they were already at the top, and there wasn’t any incentive to do anything to better themselves.

  Granted, over the years one tended to get bored, so different experiments were run when something interesting caught their attention. One such example was when Fusions were discovered by the slaves inhabiting the Kingdom, and the Great Ones took the idea and ran with it, spending decades trying to improve upon what the much-weaker Humans of the Kingdom could achieve.

  It failed spectacularly.

  That wasn’t to say that they hadn’t been able to create stronger Fusions when they had larger Mana pools and an extensive amount of Pattern Cohesion; but none of the Fusions they made were worth the time creating them. They also seemed to last only a fraction of the time that the slaves were capable of creating, despite the Great Ones’ advantages; and after a few decades, research into the process was abandoned as a waste of time. They could achieve even better effects than any Fusion with a simple cast of a spell, after all, so there was no point in pursuing it any further.

  But now one of their own, or at least half of their own, had somehow learned how to create Fusions unlike any seen before. From what they’d seen and heard about, these particular Fusions that Larek, his talented spawn, created were powerful; they were so powerful that they could rival nearly anything that Vilnesh could cast with a spell – or so he assumed. How else could that child of mine kill not just one, but three of us?

  That knowledge was what led Lord Vilnesh to curb his bloodthirsty desire to crush the one who had killed his people, because he wanted to take advantage of his progeny’s abilities to further cement the Great Ones’ control over everyone. How? Well, there was one Fusion in particular that interested him; it was something that was discovered shortly after learning that his offspring had somehow created something that would block any form of Dominion magic from affecting the individual to whom it was attached.

  In short, if Larek could create something that made someone immune to Dominion magic, then it should be more than possible that the opposite could be achieved. The limitations of Dominion magic made it so that controlling extensive numbers of people was impossible, because it required leaving the slightest bit of their magic inside of each person they dominated. This fragment of their power was necessary to ensure that the subjects couldn’t use their personal will to break free from their instructions; otherwise, everyone would simply wiggle free eventually, with those having stronger wills able to break free within days or sooner.

  While each Great One had an extensive pool of Dominion magic to pull from, they would all run dry if they attempted to control even a fraction of the people in the Kingdom. It was why they had only targeted the Nobles over the last thousand years, as controlling the ones running the Kingdom meant that they controlled the Kingdom. Unfortunately, a lot had changed since The Culmination hit a few years before, and their control over almost every single slave in a position of importance had diminished to the point where they controlled almost nothing.

  But if there was some way to enhance the Dominion magic they used on the population, such as with a Fusion, then it was more than possible that they wouldn’t have to leave a portion of their power inside each slave. Something that sapped the Nobles’ free will would probably be best, as then they couldn’t even consider breaking free from the chains that bound their minds, but anything that would make the Great Ones’ domination of the Kingdom – and even the entire world – easier would be the greatest discovery to ever come to the Great Ones.

  And Vilnesh would be the one to deliver it to the Grand One.

  All he had to do was convince the half-breed to come work for him, which wouldn’t be easy, but it would happen. He just needed the right kind of leverage.

  Lord Vilnesh stopped his pacing and moved the far wall, where a series of sconces were placed equidistantly along its length. With a few deft turns in a specific direction, he adjusted 6 of them just right and then pulled on the seventh, which *clicked* satisfactorily. The next moment, a hidden counterweight lifted a portion of the wall upwards, revealing a hidden alcove that was virtually undetectable from the outside.

  Staring at what was inside, Vilnesh didn’t approach the sparkly barrier that kept the 4 slaves trapped inside the alcove; physically touching it could disrupt the spell, and it was enough of a pain to cast that he didn’t want to have to do it again unless he had to. As it was, there was no reason to interrupt what was happening inside, as he could see the angry face of an older man that appeared vaguely familiar to him, as well as the crying tears rolling down the cheeks of the young boy and girl. Of course, he couldn’t actually see the tears rolling down, as everyone behind the Stasis Field spell was nearly frozen in time; in reality, they were simply moving so slowly that one of the tears would take months to roll from the eye to drip onto the floor, but he liked to visualize it happening, nonetheless.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  Because time was slowed down within the confines of the spell, so too did the spell take time to dissipate. A Stasis Field spell like this could last up to a year before it had to be renewed, and since he had renewed it only a few months before, he didn’t want to have to renew it again by passing anything through its exterior. It was one of the strongest spells ever discovered by the Great Ones, and it took nearly a half-hour to properly form the pattern for it, and he didn’t have the time for that right now.

  Nevertheless, Lord Vilnesh was sorely tempted to break the field, as he had been tempted over the last few months as news of his offspring had popped up. He looked at the last person in the hidden alcove, staring at the woman that was the other half of the half-breed equation, the once-Noble daughter of Duke Haskell, who had fled while pregnant with Vilnesh’s child. Somehow, she had managed to not only produce a healthy, living half-breed that didn’t suffer the same setbacks as every other attempt at producing Great One offspring, but also, she had even survived the birth experience – which wasn’t normal, either. Soon after reacquiring her, Lord Vilnesh was tempted to try again to see if she would produce the same result, but he held off because he was too busy at the time to experiment with such things.

  And now he held off because he needed her in pristine condition for when she was to be used as bait for the little one. Larek’s entire family was going to be protected, at least for now, because if Vilnesh knew anything about the slaves that inhabited the Kingdom, it was that they would do anything for their family; since his offspring was half-slave, he expected this to be the same for him. If what he’d heard about the boy’s exploits were true, then there was no way the half-breed would give up the chance to save those that he ostensibly loved.

  A knock at his door startled Lord Vilnesh, and he rapidly pulled on the sconce again, resetting the counterweight and dropping the portion of the wall back into place. Adjusting his clothing, which was looking a bit rumpled after his time spent in seclusion, he quickly walked to the door, preparing to kill whatever slave thought it was a good idea to disturb him. With a spell ready to explode from the inside whoever was standing outside the door, he yanked the door open with a snarl—

  —only to hesitate in his punishment when he recognized the old slave standing outside.

  “I’m very sorry to disturb you, Lord Vilnesh,” the white-haired and frail-looking man said in a soft voice, bowing painfully at the waist. “The Grand One desires your presence.”

  “Now?”

  The slave bowed again. “As soon as possible, my Lord.”

  “Thank you, Wembley. I will be along within the minute.”

  Wembley bowed again as he retreated, having delivered his message. The old slave was the only person other than a fellow Great One that Vilnesh – and every other Great One – treated with respect, as he was the personal slave of the Grand One. No one desired to do anything to antagonize such a powerful and perfect being, not even someone in Vilnesh’s position, so everyone smart actually used his name when speaking with the old man.

  Taking his summons seriously, Vilnesh closed the door and took off for his bedroom, changing into a new set of clothing within seconds while he freshened up in the bathroom. In less than 30 seconds, he had quickly washed himself, changed into something more fitting for an audience with the Grand One, and was kempt enough that he didn’t look out of the ordinary.

  He was out the door and through the hallways a few seconds later, racing past the marble and gold-plated columns that lined the perimeter of the hallway leading to the Grand One’s residence inside the Enclave, carefully passing Wembley, who was slowly making his way back, as well. Before a minute was up, he was knocking on the door, but even before his hand made contact with the beautifully carved wood, he heard, “Come in, Vilnesh,” coming from inside.

  Opening the doors immediately, he walked inside before closing them again, turning around to see the Grand One sitting comfortably on a high-backed chair across the strangely austere room that was lacking in many of the amenities that most other Great Ones partook in for their own residences. Then again, the Grand One didn’t need anything else; the simple chair looked like a regal throne underneath their perfect form, after all.

  Vilnesh glanced at the Grand One’s face for a moment before bowing, showing every bit of respect he had for their imposing presence. “You summoned me, Grand One?”

  The voice he heard in response was like a balm of pleasurable calm on his scattered thoughts and plans that had been going through his head. “I did. Thank you for arriving so quickly.”

  “I live to serve, Grand One.” It was only right that he and everyone else bend themselves to the wishes of the mighty one before him.

  “I know you do, Vilnesh. Which is why I’ve left you alone since the unfortunate deaths of Farmas and Syrlia; I know that you have only the best intentions for myself and your fellow Great Ones.” Looking up, Lord Vilnesh nearly melted when he saw the dazzling smile on the Grand One’s face. “Now, what kind of plan have you hatched up while brooding in your room?”

  Putting his thoughts together, Vilnesh wondered how much the Grand One knew already, since he hadn’t told anyone. Then again, it only took him a half-second to remember that the Grand One knew pretty much everything, and this was likely just a confirmation of their information. More than that, he was fairly certain he would get the support he needed to see his plans through.

  Why?

  Because the other holdout among the Great Ones preparing for war, besides himself, was the Grand One. They were, in fact, the only reason the Enclave wasn’t empty and the Great Ones weren’t rampaging around the Kingdom, looking for Vilnesh’s spawn and killing everyone and anyone they thought was associated with the deaths of Farmas and Syrlia. The Lord wasn’t sure why the Grand One wasn’t encouraging such slaughter, but he also knew that it didn’t matter. If they didn’t want it to happen, then it wouldn’t.

  As he confidently revealed his plans concerning the Fusionist’s family he had in stasis, as well as the potential for controlling everyone in the world, another dazzling smile encouraged him more than anything else he’d ever experienced.

  “That is a fine plan. I’m giving you the authority to get it done. Take your time, though; I have a feeling that my impatience to deal with this Fusionist led to Farmas and Syrlia’s failure.”

  “No! Never, Grand One! It could never be your fault; their failure was theirs, and theirs alone,” Vilnesh insisted, horrified that the Grand One could think they had done something wrong.

  The Grand One sighed. “Be that as it may, I still encourage you to exercise caution. We still don’t know the full capabilities of our target, and I would hate for the same thing that happened to Chinli, Farmas, and Syrlia happen to you, as well.”

  “You are wise, Grand One. It will be done.” With another bow after a quick handwave that indicated dismissal, Lord Vilnesh turned around and left, opening the door just as old man Wembley was arriving. Holding the door for the respected slave, he quickly shot down the hallway again, heading for his residence again. He needed to acquire something before he started rounding up those he was going to need for his plan to work correctly.

  While he wanted to initiate it right away, he was also taking the Grand One’s warning to heart; the trap for Larek wasn’t going to be a poorly planned fiasco like what undoubtedly happened with Farmas and Syrlia. Instead, it was going to be so subtle that his progeny wouldn’t even know he was within his father’s control until it was too late.