Naldine stared at the visage of Osmont as he checked out an ashen Abaddon.
Noah had actually taken the chin of THE Primordial Chaos, the past claimer of one of THE Four Keys of Civilization, and was moving his head left and right as if examining livestock at market. Abaddon's eyes remained hollow, his massive form slack under handling that would have been unthinkable hours ago.
And well, after losing their Claim, beings like Abaddon were nothing.
There was always a chance they could rise to be grander than ever, find new paths, forge new purposes from the ashes of what they had lost. But Naldine didn't think he had it in him. She had seen too many fallen apex entities across her eons of existence, and the pattern was consistent. Failures in existence rarely got more chances, and those who did rarely possessed the conviction to seize them.
She looked toward Osmont with eyes holding impatience she no longer bothered concealing.
