| Chapter Zero | Osceau |

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Three Kingdoms. Aakhar, Elkharin and Umbrahn. On an island, virtually in the middle of nowhere, these three kingdoms battle against one another, when realistically they should be battling bigger enemies.

The big-horned tiefling walked into the booth, high heels clicking.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
She stopped at the chair.

"You called, sire?" She asks submissively.

He leaned back casually, putting both feet on the floor to spread himself efficiently. His high-heeled shoes tapped gently, making a lovely sound against the smooth surface. Tapping his dark claws against the arm of the chair, he responded simply.

"Yes. I called."

The tiefling woman bows and kisses his hand. Her soft lips, wrapped in a blanket of crimson matte lipstick, brushed against the edges of the cylindrical hole in his hand. As she kissed it, she held his other hand with her own, her soft cadaverous palms caressing his. After she finishes showing her master her affection, she questions politely. "Why did you call?"

"I was told by Fortune about an elf," He stated. "They'll be joining the anti-virus Guild in 99 years. According to Fortune, said elf is supposed to be the one who kills me. How hilarious, don't you agree?"

He chuckled. Despite how warm the laugh was, a chill still ran down her spine as the tiefling listened to the cold voice dart around the office like a rampaging bullet, echoing in her head, scratching and clawing at the walls of her skull. She giggled slightly, not wanting to upset her master. She can't make him angry. Not again. She saw what happened to the last servant...

"So- I still don't understand what you want me to do, sire-"

He stopped laughing. His expression sharpened - he looked stern and dark.

"Talk to Fortune. Find this elf. Make sure they don't step foot near here."

...

"Am I understood?"

...

"Yes, sire, understood."

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