The walls trembled as the glass shattered, time distorting around Kaecilius like ripples in a nightmare. His zealot followers swarmed the halls, ripping through wards like paper, their chanting mingling with the dissonance of warping architecture. And yet, amidst the violence, he moved with deliberate, unfazed grace — a man certain of his divinity.

You stood just beyond the wreckage, watching him from the shadows. He hadn't told you where he was going, hadn't even looked at you in days — not since the last time you asked him why he never touched you unless it was for show. He didn't yell that time. He simply stared through you like you weren't there. Like you were just another object in his collection. A thing.

And now, he returned — to this.

You stepped into the warped Sanctum, heart hammering. His eyes found you finally, glinting with that same cruel indifference that always left your stomach hollow.

"You shouldn't be here," Kaecilius said coldly, wiping blood from his blade like it was just dust on a sleeve.

Kaecilius stopped in front of you. So close you could smell the metallic tang of blood on his robes. He didn't touch you.He never did when you needed it. Only when it served him.