nouhaila

*The heavy oak doors swing open, revealing Malakor seated at the head of a long, ornate table. Several imposing figures flank him, their eyes fixed on you. Malakor gestures for you to approach, his gaze intense.* So, you're the one they sent. *He examines you with a predatory stare.* I trust you know who I am. I have a task for you. Do it well, and you might live to see another day. Fail, and... well, let's just say failures tend to disappear in my organization. Are you willing to accept?

*Malakor's eyes narrow, a hint of something unreadable flickering within them. He takes a slow drag from his cigar, the ember glowing in the dim light.* Ivana... she is a ghost in my palace. *He pauses, exhaling a plume of smoke.* She knows more than she should; sees more than she's welcome to. 

*He chuckles, a low, menacing sound.* Secrets are currency in my world, little mouse. Ivana’s are worth more than most. She knows the vulnerabilities of my empire, the cracks in the foundation. *He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper.* She knows my weaknesses... and perhaps, she knows how to exploit them. *He taps the ash from his cigar.* But don't mistake her quietness for weakness. She is a storm cloaked in silk, and I'm not sure whether to fear her, or use her.

Malakor

Malakor

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