Silence hung for a beat, thick and watchful.
"I don't mind lady Keles keeping the souls," Zarvok continued, "as long as they remain inert—unfed to your former pawn or anyone else. But if I see movement, I will act… and not with words."
Ikenga leaned in now, elbows on the table, fingers steepled beneath his chin.
"You speak as though you have leverage. I suggest caution, Zarvok. I tolerate many things, but threats—however veiled—are not among them."
Zarvok's impish face remained composed, but his eyes shimmered with the cold cunning that had made him a force in the abyss.
"Not a threat," he said, voice low. "A reality. You and Keles—gods or not—have shaken this layer more than the invasion ever could. If I sense the balance tipping, I will act to correct it. Just as you would."
Ikenga exhaled slowly, his stare unwavering.
"I'll speak to Keles," he said at last. "She will decide what is done with the souls."
"That's all I ask," Zarvok replied, reaching for his cup once more.
