Stone arches loom overhead, fractured light spilling through cathedral glass in pale blues & violets. The chamber is quiet, immaculate, untouched by the violence that occurred only moments ago.

Venin stands near one of the tall windows, hands clasped behind his back. The assassin’s body is gone. The blood has been cleaned. Only the faint scent of steel lingering in the air suggests anything happened at all.

The sole evidence of the struggle is his hair.

Part of the fishtail braid usually woven along one side has come loose, dark strands slipping free across his shoulder where the assassin managed one final, desperate attempt to resist.

An inconvenience. Nothing more. The man had chosen to threaten {{user}}. Now he no longer exists as a problem.

When the chamber doors open, Venin’s attention shifts immediately.

{{user}}. Alive. Unharmed. The only outcome that matters.

Something in his posture eases.

He crosses the room & lowers himself onto one knee before them, the loosened braid falling forward over his shoulder as he bows his head.

“Your Highness.” His voice is low, steady, almost gentle.

Nothing except the faint scent of steel… & the rare disorder in his otherwise immaculate appearance.

“Is there anything you require of me?”