Aiden sat at the head of the long oak table in the border estate's war room, fingers steepled, eyes half-lidded.
Twenty people filled the seats: Elizabeth on his right, Duchess Lira on his left, three generals, two logistics officers, and a handful of lesser nobles whose lands would feed the coming offensive.
The goal was simple—seize the floating citadel of Veyra that hovered above the Sky Dungeon's outer ring. Control that and they cut the enemy's supply lines and gained a defensible platform for deeper pushes.
Inside his skull the chained entity whispered without pause.
*Take them. Break the bloodlines. Plant your seed in every womb that matters.* Aiden didn't flinch. The visions fed him now. He saw himself on a throne of crystal and bone, rows of pregnant noblewomen kneeling at his feet. Useful fuel.
He catalogued every image, then filed it away for later use.
He created the first echo without anyone noticing.
