In the realm of Phlegethon, deep within a throne hall of obsidian spires and shifting shadows, a massive spatial mirror floated above a circle of black stone. Its surface flickered with the last images Lazriel’s fading eyes had seen: Sylpharion walking away, the Septet surrounding Remiel, and the Staff of Oblivion glowing faintly in the aftermath.
Radamus, the Demon King of Sloth, leaned lazily against his throne — a jagged seat of stone and bone — as though the scene bored him. His half-lidded blue eyes glimmered, however, betraying sharp intellect beneath his languid demeanor. He exhaled slowly, his voice smooth and dripping with lethargy.
“Lazriel and Indolia… failed.” He muttered, almost like a sigh. “Even with my guidance, they were overwhelmed. The Staff remains… untaken.” His tone
