In the dimly lit chamber of obsidian and silver, twelve thrones encircled a vast round table carved with runes older than the Towers themselves. Each throne was occupied—some by towering figures clad in armor that seemed to bend the air, others by beings whose forms were more shadow than flesh. They were the Apostles, the hidden hands that tugged at the strings of fate.
At the head sat one draped in crimson robes that shifted like liquid fire. His hair was white as bone, his smile sharp as a blade. This was Cancer, the Fourth Apostle. His eyes glimmered with malicious satisfaction as he leaned forward, resting his chin upon interlaced fingers.
“I bring news,” he purred, his voice slithering across the chamber. “Our little problem… the Harbinger who slipped from hell’s leash… he climbs th
