As soon as her face was out of sight from the crowd, Elènie smiled with smug satisfaction.

"Well done once again, Elènie!" was called at her back.

She immediately wiped the smile off, turned, and fell into a deep bow. "Your Majesty."

A paternalistic hand fall on her shoulder, and he raised her to her feet before bringing her with him off to the side. Most eyes stayed on them, but everyone was still far too busy excitedly commenting on her performance to bother with eavesdropping.

"Very intriguing, that reference to 'silver chest'. One of my guards, of course, but which?"

"I am afraid I cannot say more." She was careful to give a regretful tint to her smile, no matter how inane the question.

"Of course, of course." The king waved her off. "Prophets' limitations. Though you have proven that those mean very little to you, have you not?" He laughed cheerfully. "Say, you do not think that any of today's verses relate to the Dark Lord?"

Elènie frowned with annoyance. "Unfortunately, that imbecilic plot amongst the guard seems to have caught all of my attention. A detestable distraction tactic, but an effective one. I have no doubt the Dark Lord encouraged them in their errors..."

His face turned sombre. "What a shame. That kind of schemes have multiplied lately. He must be so satisfied with the way he is outsmarting us... Mmmm... That may be an idea, if he is so focused on you to pay attention to anybody else..."

What? 

The king felt her stiffened under his hand, and he refocused on her. "Oh, not to worry, Elènie! Nobody will replace you as my favourite! But you must understand that, under the circumstances, other options must be tried."

"Of course, your Majesty." She smiled charmingly and forced herself to relax. Her amazing skills were not the only reason she was the favourite, after all. The king disliked drama, and drama was sure to abound among all the other royal prophets when they would realise the opportunity they had.

The king patted her on the back. "Good, good. Why do you not see if listening to the others give you any new insight? Your new meditation techniques have certainly been progressing well, and this could be a way to bypass the Dark Lord's interferences against you."

He left without giving her the time to answer, and she could only bow at his back. She had far too much control to show her anger in front of everyone, and so she moved her face into an expression of polite boredom as she settled in to wait.

As soon as the king sat again on his throne, signal was given to the rest of the royal prophets. Surprisingly, Tarance seemed to have won that battle and was the first of them all to walk in the middle of the empty space formed by the courtiers. Yet, not even this could catch Elènie's interests. What did it matter, when all of them were insignificant worms lying in the dirt before her? They could compare their length all they wanted and boast of their girth, none could vie with the venomous snake she was.

Tarance made a show of sitting down on the stool prepared for him—a low one, as no one was allowed to sit higher than the king—settling his faniol on his knees and adjusting the strap of the instrument around his chest. All the spectacle and desperate attempts to rake up tension were laughable. Elènie had no need for this; her talents and skills spoke on their own. Thankfully, the rest of the court had enough sense to recognise as much, for they were all exchanging exasperated glances, and more than a few even sent commiserating looks in her direction. Yes, see what she had to endure? 

The first note finally rang in the hall, as Tarance's fingers pinched the cords of his faniol. Pffff. Same air again. What lack of imagination. Yet, as the music went on, some people started to nod in rhythm, and a few hummed below their breath. Elènie clenched her teeth. That cursed man was not going to get them all through sheer wear!

But no, there was no chance of that, as proven as soon as he began his song.

"In a place very far away,

The maiden sleeps her days away,

Lovely hands made to play

Lovely voice made to say

Words of wisdom and parlay

Ready to give her life away"

Terrible verse and boring subjects, as usual. Whatever quality could be found in his counter-alto voice did not make up for all of that. And the subject? Please. By now, everyone knew of Princess Larina, the amazingly talented prophet of the Lartanian royal family. The king might attempt to give all the mystery he wanted to the affaire, it was clear she was going to be betrothed to Prince Calendre to seal the peace, thus allowing Sérannie to focus properly on its little Dark Lord problem.

Complete loss of time. 

Elènie did not bother continuing to listen. Instead, she regulated her breathing and focus on the mental exercise all prophets were inculcated practically at birth. The potion was still in her veins, despite her being done with her first exposure to the magical currents and her prophetical singing. The advantage of not doing an extensive meditation in between, contrary to the others. What use was this when, no matter what they all did, none of them could remember what the magical currents going through their brain made them unconsciously absorb? No, Elènie had the right idea there. Better to only meditate just as much as strictly necessary, then prophesy, thus letting the magic bring the ideas forwards in their songs, and then meditate some more, with the lyrics now able to guide them in their interpretations.

No matter what the Dark Lord did, how many shields he raised against himself, how many distractions he sent to her, he would not be able to resist her forever... There was a reason she had been the first one to discover his existence and his use of taboo illusion magic to take over the kingdom. She would be the one to completely unmask his identity too. Nobody would be allowed to swipe in and steal all of her hard work and the glory!

When exclamations erupted around her, Elènie was jostled out of her trance and had to swallow back a curse. She almost had it! There had been shadows in her visions, swirls of forbidden magic at the limit of her consciousness. Only a little more and she would have been able to grasp them! She sent a magical probe into her blood and could not repress a frown. The damn potion had completely left by now. She would not be able to make another attempt today. Taking more of it too soon was only a sure path towards the death pyre, and there was no way she would not get to enjoy the fruits of her exploits!

As Tarance was finished and no one wanted to linger on his mediocre performance, he was quickly replaced by Pallie. The elder woman was a tolerable prophet but a terrible wordsmith. No matter how clearly she saw anything, she was not able to put them into explicit words, and she unnecessarily muddled everything. No risk to Elènie either. 

Though despite all of her disdain, there was always the risk one of the royal prophets would get a lucky spell and announce something noteworthy. She could not afford to lower her guard. The Dark Lord belonged to her!

Pallie gave an extended and deep bowed towards the king, the royal family, and the rest of the court. "Thank you, your Majesty, and all of you of you for taking the time to listen to me today. I know that having so many performances one after another is tedious, but I can assure you all that what I am going to share will be far from repetitions of previous prophecies or minor barely relevant plots. Only the long experience that I have with prophecies can bring you the quality required to successfully unmask the Dark Lord."

Elènie's magic boiled under her skin, and she had to use some of it to block her hearing and prevent herself from making her upset visible to all. The complex runic diagram was easy to visualise after so many years of using it during her musical practice, and soon she was alone with her thoughts. Her sight, though, was still fully functional, and nothing could hide Pallie's little smirk. That bitch! So she thought she could do better?

And the woman's hands were trembling: The absolute idiot had taken too much potion, as if that would be enough to make up for her meagre talents and total lack of skills! Well, at least Elènie would not have to bear with her presence in the court for many more years...

When that song finally drew to a close, Elènie immediately headed out of the room. She was, however, interrupted by Master Lurose, head of the Royal Mages. The old man did not touch her—that level of familiarity was reserved for the king—yet his bow was extremely shallow. Another one convinced of his superiority thanks to his noble blood. Elènie bowed as deeply as her so-called lower-status forced her to do before allowing herself to be led in the corridor just outside of the main hall.

"Prophet Damance. Senator Larsé." He discreetly handed her a handkerchief with blood spots.

She raised an eyebrow at the name of such a minor senator.

"All options have to be eliminated," Master Lurose only commented. "You are the only one we can trust with this. You understand, of course, that all royal prophets must be given their chance to shine, even if we all know you are unquestionably the best. You have far more skills and intuitions in how to use them correctly than all of them put together. Moreover, you have a better understanding of how the world really works beyond all charming appearances, and so you will always be better at interpreting what you are seeing."

Elènie sent him a pretty smile and bowed. "You flatter me, Master Lurose. I will take care of this during my next session." She rose, took the handkerchief, and hid it in the pocket hidden between the layers of flowing material that made her dress. The man left her, not bothering with any more empty words now that she had been placating into doing what the king wanted. As if she would waste a whole prophecy on any random senator when she was so close to unmasking the Dark Lord on her own!

Before she could go back to her room, a group of courtiers stopped her. 

"Prophet Damance," a girl in her mid-twenties mumbled shyly, dropping into a deep bow before rising and handing her a wrapped package. "Your song was amazing as always today, no matter the topic. Anyone who thinks they are your equals is an idiot."

"Mistress Fallie, your compliment warms me," Elènie answered her with an appreciative smile. As if she'd care what children were thinking. How could Elènie be so much more mature and clairvoyant than everyone around her when she would still be a teenager for another year? All those nobles were spoilt and coddled, backstabbing each other out of pettiness, yet still not aware of the real world surrounding them.

"Uhm," the woman started again, and Elènie patiently waited despite knowing perfectly well what she was about to ask. "I was wondering if, maybe, you could keep me in your thoughts during your next meditation?"

"Of course, Mistress Fallie. Doing so will hardly be any hardship."

The woman giggled with delighted embarrassment at the smile Elènie sent her. So easy to manipulate...

Fallie stepped back to rejoin her group of young people, and all of them immediately exchanged excited whispers while giving Elènie coy looks. Meanwhile, the older woman chaperoning them replaced her at Elènie's side.

"We all appreciate the hard work you have been doing for the kingdom and the court, Prophet Damance." Elènie dropped into a bow and mumble some words of thanks. The woman waved her off and gave her a patronising smile. "Of course, as young as you are, it is an incredible honour for you to be able to live amongst us and make yourself useful. His Majesty is so generous in taking care of the next generation of prophets and giving you a chance to shine and get used to the working of the court. And since it has almost been a year by now, you should have finished settling in. Yet, you still have quite a few, shall we say, mishaps. It would be a shame for them to continue just when we are all so close to deciding the list of invitees for the next round of social events..." she trailed off meaningfully.

Elènie gave her a sharp smile but did not answer, forcing the woman to move away after a moment of silence. If she thought Elènie would be so easy to bribe!

A low laugh at her back made her stiffen. She refused to turn, but Pallie walked around her to force Elènie to face her.

"Still so stubborn, child," the older woman addressed her with a mocking smile. "When will you finally decide to play by the rules and fit in? But no, you are always so focused on being perceived as the best, no matter how many enemies you make in the process... You should really reconsider before something regrettable occurs..."

Elènie gritted her teeth but moved resolutely away without answering. She avoided meeting anyone's eyes as she walked in the corridors in a pace as unhurried and unconcerned as her anger allowed her to take.

So what if she was ambitious? All of the royal prophets were, or they would not have found their way to the court! None of them were petty nobles who had had their whole life handed out to them on a golden tray. As for her so call rudeness... There would be no cause for it if anyone around her did not insist on insulting and demeaning her at every turn. She would not bow at the feet of every imbecile without talents who thought their blood was enough to justify their whole existence in this world! If any of them wanted to avoid becoming the target of her prophecies and her revealing all their secrets, they could try working on their good manners! Only the kind of powers and skills the Dark Lord had could justify anyone thinking themselves above politeness...

And speaking of the Dark Lord, Elènie had far better things to focus on than those lowlifes!

By now, she had arrived in the wing of the palace reserved for the prophets and other glorified servants whose elevated roles were enough to afford them their own private quarters but little more. Now that nobody was around, she abandoned her careful walk and accelerated her pace. Once she finally stood in front of her own doors, she put her hand flat on it and visualised the simple unlocking runic diagram. Her magic immediately followed the patterns in her mind, and the lock unfolded with an audible click. 

Elènie walked in, closed the door, and moved into the small room. Besides the bed, she had crammed in her wardrobe, and a few cupboards and tables to hold all of her cosmetics, potion materials, and the copious notes recording her prophecies and the results of her meditations. And luxury of all luxury, she had a small adjacent room with a bath.

She let herself fall onto the chair in front of the desk, moving some cluster aside to make space for the gift she had received, before carelessly removing the cloth wrapped around it. Pfff. A plain lidless wooden box containing a few exotic lariche fruits. That would have been a much better present for someone who did not hold the king's favour and regularly ate at his table. What a loss of time.

Since in her annoyance at Fallia she had left her faniol behind, she could not even have some practice to relax. Anyway, better not lose time before writing down her notes about today's session. She may still be able to get something out of them even if the potion had run out of her body...

She made quick work of this and then went to flick through all of her notebooks from the past year. There must be something there that would spark an idea. Anything. Curse that Dark Lord and all of the royal prophets! How could they all have been so blind to completely fail to notice his existence and his treasonous plot when not even one day at the palace and Elènie's prophecy had immediately honed on him? If only she had had more time there before that, she could have picked up a lot more! But of course, as soon as the last notes of her faniol had sounded in the reception hall—if not even sooner—the Dark Lord had reinforced all of his shields to put himself beyond her reach. 

"Invisible evil covering the land

All will happily worship his bloody hand

Malevolent hidden lord of damnation

Spreading iniquity throughout the nation

Unacceptable magic

So unthinkably tragic"

Stupid words, barely revealing anything useful regarding his identity... At least, the rest of her prophecy had helped identity the so-called Chosen One, undeniable proof of her superiority. She had also unmasked more than a few senators who the Dark Lord had replaced with his minions thanks to his taboo illusion magic. And still! How could they all consider her a child when she had done so much that they themselves had been entirely incapable of doing?

But no, all they could focus on was that fact that she had not really unmasked the Dark Lord yet, had she? She sneered and focused on her later prophecies. None of those had been as directly aimed at the Dark Lord and his plot as the first one, but there were hints. It was not her fault that everyone had been too eager to misinterpret them and that the king may or may not have slaughtered complete innocents because neither he nor anybody else could help but read in between her verses...

She had already highlighted a few verses, of course. "Exalted blood" was a given. For sure, the Dark Lord was a noble, or he would not have had access to the education required to learn such powerful magic from a young age. Anyone only proving themselves to be talented in adulthood was a lost cause, as only children's brain had the flexibility needed to visualise and mentally manipulate extremely complex runic diagrams.

"Unsatisfied mind" was also self-explanatory. Any genius of the type he had to be would be greatly unsatisfied with the state of their society and how they all had to bow to incompetent imbeciles because of their lucky births.

But the rest... it was more difficult to say for sure if anything alluded to him. After all, he was hardly the only mastermind hiding in the shadows and plotting against people. Just the more dangerous and unscrupulous one.

"So witty and charming to all he comes across" sounded like good skills for politicians and Dark Lords alike to have. Mmm. What about his age? Quite a few of her prophecies in the past year had been referencing to a "young wolf with long teeth" and all of that... For sure, the impatient intrigants at court were more likely to be young people, but what if it was also a reference to him?

After another hour wasted on that, she pushed away her notebooks in disgust and moved from her desk to her dressing table. She sat on the stool and slowly removed her bracelets and rings. What she needed was a long bath to refresh herself before the court dinner. The king was sure to invite her to his table to ask her about the earlier performances, and she needed to be ready to endure more snubs from his entourage. See who she would target for her next prophecy!

She started taking off the numerous pins in her hair, when some imperceptible change was picked up by her senses and had her eyes rise to the silver mirror standing on the table. The shadow behind her reflection made her stiffen. What?

"Good evening, Prophet Damance."

The voice was high and cold, with a mocking tint that would have raised her hackles under other different circumstances. But...

Ice filled her at the same time as the realisation. With the constant cheerfulness of the court, one could almost forget that there was a deadly war going on.

"Good evening, Dark Lord," she answered with as much confidence as she could, before turning slowly on her stool.

The man was just standing there, leaning nonchalantly against the door, a stereotypical black cloak wrapped around his person like a bad caricature. Never mind how he had entered without her noticing. Forcing his way through the lock was nothing to an accomplished mage, and his illusion magic had obviously tricked her. 

She rose and bowed deeply. "To what do I owe this honour?" she asked, trying for a tone of casual curiosity.

His face was hidden below the hood of his cloak and some obscuring magic. Yet, the smile was clearly audible in his voice. "It is only fitting I finally meet the famous prophet who has introduced me to the Sérannian court. Such troubles you have given me this past year... Decades of planning thrown away all because of you."

"You flatter me, my lord," she simpered and bowed again. "I am sure the other prophets would have found about you. Eventually."

"And I am quite sure they would not have. Your skills are unique in all of the kingdom, and none of the others can hope to match you. All of them lack the edge you alone possess."

 "Is that why my lord is here? To witness those for himself?" she attempted to diffuse.

He completely ignored her. "In fact, so unique are those skills that one cannot help but wonder how you came by them. What particular hand guided you—or rather, what particular trick you found."

It had been obvious this had been coming from the moment he had mentioned her uniqueness, and so she was able to prevent herself from stiffening or paling. Instead, she just sent him a bland smile. "Hard work and determination, I assure you, my lord. Rather rare and difficult to find, indeed, when so many are always looking for all shortcuts they can find. Yet, hardly anything mysterious or outrageous."

He laughed softly. "I must have missed when blood magic became widely accepted in Sérannie, then. Do not bother denying it; I am rather well versed in all forms of forbidden powers and what it would take to go past personal shields. The only reason why no one else has realised what you are doing is your supposed lack of access to ancient texts in which you could have found about this."

With nothing else she could do to deny it, Elènie might as well go on the offensive. After all, if he had not killed her yet, it was quite obvious he was here to recruit her. And why would he not want to have her skills at his service, indeed?

She smiled sharply. "You are hardly the only one who has managed to recreate lost techniques. People always search ancient library and ruins for old notes and hints about them, rather than study their own arts in more depth and think. All of those are perfectly logical extensions to what we already do."

"So you find it perfectly logical to steal the blood of everyone you encounter?"

"Hardly everyone," she demurred. "In any case, why do you take offence at this, my lord? You cannot be implying that you disapprove of my exploration of the boundaries of magic when those have been unnaturally constrained by our society!"

"I certainly can when your little experiments are targeting my own entourage."

She stiffened. Oh. That.

"Well, it is rather unfair of you to blame me for this when I can hardly know who your minions are and who I should avoid, my lord. However, now that you have got through the troubles of meeting with me, I am sure we could come to some... understanding on the matter."

"Understanding?" He repeated, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

"Oh, I am sure you get my meaning perfectly. And I am also sure that you are more than familiar with the manner in which the court functions. Prophets do not always uniformly target just anyone among the court, and even when we have chosen our subject, we do retain a great amount of control on the words we sing during the prophecies. What subject is addressed and how it is addressed are all a matter of choice from the prophets, choices that can be, shall we say, influenced."

"Indeed?"

Still that same lack of reaction. Elènie did not let it intimidate her. She clenched her jaw, raised her chin, and went on determinedly, "This is why you are here, are you not, my lord? To negate the danger I represent and convince me to join your side? Well," she spread her arms wide around her, "convince me!"

"How very assured you are of your own importance." Finally, his tone lost its impassivity, but only to turn icy and deadly. "What makes you believe that you are in any position to make demands when there are thousands of prophets all over the kingdom?"

She could not let him push her around and make her just one of his undoubtedly numerous minions! She had not dragged her way up to the top of society just to be thrown back at his feet!

"But none of those prophets are as skilled as I am. Even if you personally might not mind having inferior individuals working for you," she let her tone show how unbelievable she found that, "Séranniens are not going to fall for it. I am the one who revealed your existence and your plots, and I am the only one to have ever made a serious hit against your shields. If anyone else tells them you are gone, they will have no reason to trust such a declaration when those other prophets have not been able to detect you in the first place! No, if you want the kingdom to be at peace, convinced of your legitimacy and fully submitted to your rule, you need me to tell them that the Dark Lord is dead for good."

He laughed softly. "You greatly underestimate your compatriots' complaisance. Terror is tiring, and it will not take them all long to be worn out by the constant vigilance and restrictions, especially when they cannot see their enemies and suffer far more from the actions of the government than from this invisible threat. There may be some protests, but in the end, it will amount to very little."

"Yet, why would you make yourself suffer through those troubles when you can so easily snuff them out? My presence by your side will bring you many advantages. For what can your plans be? Completely replaced the king and live the rest of your life under illusions, hoping nobody will notice anything? Hoping to quietly assassinate everyone discovering the truth when you slip up in your impersonation? You might last a few years like that, but sooner or later, you will face a rebellion large enough you will not be able to repress it with only your illusions."

"And how much do you expect me to pay for those so-called advantages?"

The atmosphere in the room was colder too, yet he had not used any active magic; this was just the raw energy that was leaking out of his body. A neat trick, but not enough to force her to back down. She knew her own value and would not let herself be browbeaten into submission.

"As you have said yourself, I represent a significant risk for you. With one word to the king, I could get your entire shadow empire toppled to the ground and you executed in the public square. This would guarantee me a level of prestige and a quality-of-life unequal among all prophets for the rest of my life. You must offer significant compensation to attract me away from that perspective."

He did not react, and so she went on with false bravado, "I would, of course, need to be informed of all your political plots, war tactics, and other treasonous schemes so as to offer you the most accurate prophecies. For the same reason, I have to stay by your side, in your court, and to frequent all of your allies and advisers. But all of that is a given. No, what I truly want from you is the opportunity to actually advise you. I am, after all, the better placed to do this, given my knowledge of everything that is going on in the kingdom thanks to the prophecy magic, whether I am consciously aware of it or not. Moreover—"

"That is quite enough," he interrupted her in a soft whisper. She froze. "No matter what illusions you have about your self-importance, you will bow to me and recognise my superiority. You are nothing but another servant, and you will behave as such."

A sudden rush of magic filled the room, a vast amount but still purposeless. For now.

Still, Elènie could not back down.

"But I am not just any other servant. And you know it, my lord. You have said so yourself. It is only natural that I be treated with the respect that goes with my role."

He laughed lowly. "So what do you see yourself as, prophet? Being a royal prophet is not enough for your ego, and it would appear that you consider being the royal prophet as little better. Is it my personal adviser? Or even more than that? My consort?"

That last was said with so much venom that Elènie's face lost all of its blood. She resisted the urge to hunch her shoulders and back away. The key was to not show she was afraid and let the dangerous predator smell an injured prey!

"While I do not have such exalted dreams, I would, of course, be incredibly honoured to become so. However, I am quite determined to better my position, and it is shameful that our current society will never allow me to rise high enough to fully take advantage of my skills. All because of my lack of noble blood. But you intend to shake up the established order, do you not? Put yourself in your 'rightful' place at the top of the hierarchy? Well, I merely wish the same. It will cost you little to accommodate me, and you have a lot to gain from indulging me."

The Dark Lord's magic abruptly disappeared from the room. Far from making Elènie relax, its sudden absence was eerie. For the first time since the start of this conversation, she took a step back. Yet, she immediately caught herself and froze her legs to prevent herself from visibly showing her fear.

"Is that your last word?" he asked casually.

She exhaled slowly. "Yes."

"What a shame," he answered in exactly the same detached tone. "The king so vaunted your so-called clear mind, able to see what lies behind our society's artifices, but it looks like you are nothing more than a naïve child with delusions of grandeur, unable to recognise when you should bow. And I have no need for those."

Elènie did not have time to react to that before biting cold hit her. She instinctively brought a hand up to her throat and could only look incredulously at it turning red before she collapsed to the ground. The Dark Lord's footsteps were loud on the stone floor as he left her bedroom without even affording her one last glance.