Azael stood alone at the highest tower of her dark fortress, golden eyes scanning the desolate horizon with cold determination. The land stretched out endlessly beneath a storm-ravaged sky, thunder rumbling in the distance, a symphony of impending chaos echoing her own restless heart.
Her careful plans had finally come together. She had Liria now a weapon of unimaginable potential, her greatest asset, fully under her command. With her puppet's unique power at her fingertips, nothing stood between Azael and total dominion over every kingdom, realm, and race that dared oppose her.
Yet this final conquest would require meticulous preparation, ruthless calculation, and unwavering precision.
She turned slowly, crimson robes billowing softly behind her as she moved toward the massive obsidian table dominating the war chamber. The chamber itself was illuminated by flickering violet flames, casting eerie shadows upon darkened walls carved with runes of protection and power.
