The Lord Protector’s Fury

The Obsidian Throne

Lord Protector Theron of the Exiles stood before a massive, cracked viewing window, overlooking the desolate, storm-swept plains of the Lower Plateau. His fortress, a squat, aggressive tower of black obsidian, was a sharp contrast to the luminous crystalline architecture of the Mountain City. Here, the air was gritty and perpetually cold.
Theron was not merely a soldier; he was a political force sculpted by bitter pragmatism. His face, sharp and weathered, was currently a study in controlled displeasure, watching the snow lash against the ferro-glass. Beside him, his Lieutenant, the formidable but unimaginative General Vark, stood rigid, awaiting the report from Sarga.
A shimmering tear opened in the air—a temporary Exile transit gate—and Sarga stumbled out, shivering, her breath misting instantly. Her usual mask of arcane confidence was gone, replaced by naked, adrenaline-fueled shock.
“Report,” Theron commanded, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that brooked no preamble.
Sarga immediately dropped to one knee, a rare display of submission. “Lord Protector, I have returned. The Queen has performed the Rites, as demanded.”
“And Kael?” Theron prompted, stepping closer, his sharp gaze searching Sarga's expression. “Is the Shadow Guard stabilized? Is the chaotic power draw neutralized?”
Sarga lifted her gaze, the memory of the immense pressure wave still etched in her eyes. “Majesty Elara… satisfied the literal demand. But she did not perform the binding. She performed a complete reversal. An unbinding.”
Theron’s hand, resting on the hilt of his ceremonial sword, clenched, the knuckles turning white. “Explain, Councillor. Do not speak in riddles.”
“The ritual was perfectly executed, on the old Suppression Site itself,” Sarga detailed, her voice trembling only slightly now. “But the incantation was a counter-clause, a violent mirror. The ten years of suppressed power did not drain—it returned, all at once, amplified by the ritual’s own kinetic force.”
She swallowed hard, recounting the climax. “The effect was instantaneous. Kael is not weakened; he is unleashed. The presence he radiates is no longer the controlled threat we managed a decade ago. It is raw, violent, and utterly dedicated to the Queen. His eyes glowed with the highest-level signature: the purple core, Lord Protector. He is, by all measures, unbound.”
A chilling silence descended upon the chamber. General Vark looked stricken, his simple strategy for a weakened Guard collapsing before his eyes.
Theron did not shout. He did not rage. Instead, he let out a single, harsh, humorless laugh.
“The Queen gambled everything on a single, impossible ritual,” Theron said, turning back to the storm-lashed window. “She offered us the appearance of compliance, took Verris as a high-value guarantee of our good behavior, and armed her most lethal weapon in front of our own witness. A brilliant, infuriating move.”
He turned back, his expression finally hardening into a mask of pure vengeance.
“She has overplayed her hand,” Theron declared. “She has shown us the depths of her deception, and now she must face the consequences of showing weakness by demonstrating strength.”

The Counter-Strategy

Theron moved to a large, map-covered strategy table, his fingers tracing the mountain passes leading up to the High Cave.
“General Vark, mobilize the Seventh and Tenth Legions. I want the Forward Advance Garrison ready to deploy within three hours.”
Vark snapped to attention. “But, Lord Protector, Verris! We cannot violate the guarantee while he is held hostage. The Cryos Shard faction will shatter the Alliance, and the other Principalities will turn against us!”
“We will not violate the guarantee, General. We will exploit it,” Theron said, his eyes gleaming with cold calculation. “The Queen’s message to Verris’s faction will already be spreading: I have the power, and I have your Councillor. We must act before the Cryos Shards panic and turn against us.”
He pointed to a specific, treacherous-looking pass on the map. “The Queen has bought forty-eight hours of political standstill. She anticipates a full invasion through the main routes. She will use this time to fortify the obvious defenses, and she will rely on Kael’s raw power to hold the central points.”
“Then we attack an area she believes to be secure,” Sarga stated, finally understanding the direction of the strategy.
“Precisely,” Theron confirmed. “Sarga, you felt the backlash of the Unbinding. Such a massive, instant infusion of Shadow energy does not just sit still. It will have temporarily amplified all residual Shadow-Lines and ancient nodes within the mountain structure. The Queen will be focusing Kael’s defenses on the exterior threats.”
Theron tapped a point deep within the mountain's lower, unmapped network of caverns—the ancient, long-forgotten supply tunnels of the First Kings.
“Kael’s loyalty is absolute, but his ten years were spent suppressed, not training with his full potential. He is a newly-sharpened sword. We will not attack the fortress; we will hit the foundations.”
“We use the tunnels,” Vark concluded, a grim resolve returning to his face. “A lightning strike through the blind spot, avoiding Kael entirely, and hitting the heart of the supply and communications lines.”
“No,” Theron corrected, shaking his head slowly. “We do not avoid Kael. We set a lure. Sarga, your task is now twofold. First, ensure the Cryos Shard leaders believe Verris is perfectly safe, but that the Queen’s new power is an existential threat to their trade stability. Second, you will formulate a low-yield, directed Shadow-pulse device, small enough for a two-man team to carry.”
Sarga frowned, puzzled. “A Shadow-pulse? To breach the walls?”
“To draw the attention of the Shadow Guard,” Theron clarified, his lips curling in a grim approximation of a smile. “We will send a two-man squad through the deepest, tightest supply tunnels with the device. They will detonate it at the deepest junction—a purely distracting action, designed to be felt by Kael, but not threatening to the Queen.”
“And the main assault?” Vark asked, his eyes gleaming.
“The main assault will not be a physical invasion, General. It will be a psychic one,” Theron announced, his gaze returning to the map. “The moment Kael focuses on the energy signature of the Shadow-pulse deep beneath the mountain, his concentration on the surface will waver. We are not attacking the Queen’s body. We are attacking the Queen’s mind.”
Theron looked down at the map, his plan now chillingly clear. “Sarga, prepare your best telepathic Legionnaires. At the moment of the Shadow-pulse, they will launch a devastating psychic breach—a flood of terror and doubt directed specifically at Elara. If we can shatter the Queen’s confidence and break her control, the newly-unbound Shadow Guard will be left without a master—and the immense power of Kael will finally turn against itself.”