Vellok said nothing.
Behind him, a portal shimmered into existence, its swirling energy whispering of far-off places and sealed intentions. He stepped toward it with a calm that bordered on eerie.
"I understand your worries. But this is no time for hesitation." He vanished into the portal as it closed with a hollow pulse of magic.
The Emperor was left alone in the vast chamber, the flickering torches casting long shadows against the walls. Silence returned.
Then, from under his hood, a faint blue light blinked in his eye—a magical interface only he could see. In quiet pulsing digits, it read:
[Stability: 87%]
And even as he watched, the number flickered, dipped for the briefest moment—a sign of decline.
The Emperor's hands, hidden beneath the robe, slowly clenched.
87% was still high… but the trajectory was clear. Things were unraveling. The people were no longer unified. Doubts were spreading. Loyalties were shifting.
