The Tale of The Fallen Primordial

Kiaren arrived at the cave as the first light of dawn fractured through the forest canopy, its golden rays piercing the mist like hesitant fingers. His steps were steady, but his mind churned. Each move he had made since the Duke's court had been calculated, yet walking into Noir and Zuka's presence always carried the weight of scrutiny.

The cave loomed ahead, dark and imposing, its entrance framed by jagged stone. Shadows moved at its threshold, and Noir emerged as if born of the darkness itself. His crimson eyes gleamed faintly in the dim light, their sharpness betraying his ever-active mind. His lips curled into a faint grin, unreadable and disarming.

"Well?" Noir asked, his voice smooth as a whisper yet carrying an edge that demanded answers. "What did the Duke offer in return for our... generosity?"

Kiaren stopped short of the entrance, inclining his head respectfully. "The Duke has invited you to his court, my lord. He awaits your arrival."

Noir's grin widened slightly, though his gaze flickered past Kiaren, as if already considering the Duke's next move. "Of course he has," Noir murmured, more to himself than his subordinate.

The forest above stirred, and Kiaren glanced up sharply. Zuka stood high on a tree branch, his golden horns catching the dawn's light, their faint glow lending him an almost divine presence. He was still, his gaze fixed on the horizon, as though seeing beyond the present moment into the machinations of the future.

Without a sound, Zuka leapt from the branch, landing beside Noir with fluid precision. His movements were measured, every step purposeful, as though the earth itself shifted to accommodate him.

The three stood in silence, the weight of unspoken thoughts filling the air like an impending storm. Kiaren hesitated, then spoke, his tone careful but probing. "The names you instructed me to use—Blanche and Trevor. Who are they?"

Zuka turned his gaze to Kiaren, his golden eyes sharp and assessing. For a moment, he said nothing, the question hanging unanswered, as though testing Kiaren's patience.

"They're shadows," Zuka said finally, his voice even, his tone deliberate. "Names whispered in dark places, once feared, now forgotten." He turned away, his attention drifting to the horizon. "But not to the Duke. To him, they're a lure. He'll see opportunity where there is only danger."

Noir chuckled softly, the sound low and cutting. "And that's the beauty of it," he said. "He'll think himself clever. A master of secrets. When in truth…" Noir's grin sharpened. "He's just another piece, moved where we need him."

Kiaren nodded slowly, though unease flickered behind his calm exterior. The way they spoke—cryptic yet calculated—left no doubt that every move was part of a larger, hidden design.

He ventured another question, his tone measured. "One more thing, my lords. You are both of royal blood. The Duke is of high status, most likely he will recognize you. Shouldn't we—"

Noir interrupted with a low chuckle, shaking his head as though Kiaren's suggestion was quaint. "No need," he said, his voice light but edged with menace. "Recognition works to our advantage. If he knows who we are, he'll attack—and that's exactly what we want."

Noir stepped closer, his crimson gaze locked on Kiaren, his grin deepening. "We have no slaves to offer. No deals to make. The Duke will realize this, and his arrogance will push him to strike. He'll lash out, unsure of the rules of the game." Noir's eyes gleamed as his voice dropped to a whisper. "And when he does, we'll already be holding the blade."

Zuka's gaze remained forward, his posture as still as a statue. His tone, when it came, was quiet but carried the weight of certainty. "The Duke will act as all men do when faced with uncertainty. He'll attempt a rash attack to regain control, blind to the trap waiting for him."

Zuka's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression remaining calm but unreadable. "The reason I ordered you to give false names was simple—he mustn't expect what's coming. The attack will be swift, decisive. Ce sera comme une embuscade," he added, his voice almost a whisper. "Like the Beast of Gévaudan, luring the hunter into its jaws."

Kiaren said nothing, but the air around him felt heavier. The brothers' words hung like a shroud, every syllable layered with implications he couldn't fully grasp.

Zuka raised a hand, golden light sparking at his fingertips and weaving through the air like threads spun from sunlight. The hum of magic resonated faintly, filling the space with a quiet power.

"Let's go," Zuka said, his voice steady, his gaze unwavering.

Noir's grin returned, sharper than ever. "Time to see if the Duke plays his part... or if he folds before the fun begins."

Zuka spoke a single word, his voice calm but laced with intent.

"Light Magic: Teleportation."

The forest dissolved in a cascade of golden light, the cave and its shadows vanishing into nothingness. The air pulsed with a faint vibration, and then—silence.