Daruman envisioned the destruction of the Abidan. He saw them execute Ozriel for his crimes, then the Judges dissolving into in-fighting while their worlds crumbled around them.
That vision spread in front of him like a pantomime, but when he searched for a path toward it, he found none.
He knew why. They wouldn’t execute Ozriel; he had too much utility to lose. But he had hoped.
Daruman wiped away that vision of the future and wrought another.
An image of the Mad King in his ancient bone armor strode into Sanctum, laying waste around him with his sword. Fleets of his warriors blackened the skies behind him. He smote the golden edifice that was their Hall of Judgment, broke the flying cities, and blighted populations.
He was eventually struck down for it. Makiel, Raziel, and a manacled Ozriel shoved him into the Way outside the Sector and erased him. The armies that followed Daruman were destroyed, and Tal’gullour substantially weakened.
Strangely, this future was more likely than the first.
Daruman froze the image, studied it, let it roll through his mind.
Oth’kimeth pushed the image away. What good is a conquering that ends in death?
That would be a worthy end, Daruman responded. If he cleared existence of the Abidan organization, at least in its current form, that would be a valuable use of his life.
But he didn’t need to spend himself so easily. There were other solutions.
It came to him immediately why this vision had seemed more possible than the other. He restored the image of the broken Hall of Judgment and pointed to it.
“It has not been restored,” Daruman pointed out.
The Fiend understood his words immediately. The Hall was indeed being repaired as they watched, but it should have been fixed immediately. Its slow speed indicated that it was being pieced together by lesser Phoenixes.
And not by the Phoenix.
Daruman traced this Fate-line back. He was not the Hound, but his vision was less restricted in some ways. He found himself in battle against a woman with bright green hair and a shining sword split into many branches.
Suriel.
Ozriel and his Scythe crashed against Daruman’s sword, but the Reaper’s powers were suppressed. Daruman was going to land the killing blow…
…and then Suriel banished Ozriel beyond existence.
To save him, she cast him into the Void. He would return, of course; the Reaper was almost as adapted to the Void as a Vroshir. But it would not be easy.
In the meantime, Daruman struck down the Phoenix.
He watched in the present as the image of his future self tore Suriel apart. She kept regenerating, kept fighting, but eventually her power met its limit. He shattered her armor to dust, shredded her Mantle, and Oth’kimeth’s head emerged from Daruman’s body to devour her completely.
The seventh generation Suriel was gone, destroyed so utterly that there would never be another Phoenix after her. At least not until someone else rebuilt the position from the ground up.
The situation puzzled him.
How could it be possible?
Suriel had used herself as bait before, and the entire Court of Seven had shown themselves. Not only was the Phoenix vital to their organization, but this one in particular had a special place in the Court. She was a bridge between Ozriel and Makiel, as much as anyone could be. She promoted cooperation between the Judges, who traditionally operated independently within their areas of specialization.
So how could the rest of the Court allow Daruman to kill her?
When he discovered the answer, his eyes flashed a brighter red, and the light warped even the sturdy space around him. His servitors started to melt like candle-wax under the sun, and he wrestled that excess power to a halt.
Makiel, the Hound, saw this possibility when no one else did.
He would see Daruman’s attack coming. He would see the risk to Suriel, but he would judge it more likely that Daruman killed Ozriel in revenge. Six out of ten times, Ozriel died, and Suriel only died three out of ten.
Makiel would consider that an acceptable risk.
Investigating further, Daruman saw why. He saw the vision Makiel did.
If Ozriel and Suriel both lived, and the Abidan eventually regained control over their former systems, then Makiel would stand trial as Ozriel had done. Daruman saw the pleasing image of Makiel in chains while Suriel arbitrated over him.
He would be stripped of his Mantle and cast back to his home, to live out his days as a mortal.
If Ozriel died, then the Abidan couldn’t afford to lose Makiel as well. His crimes would be hidden forever. The Abidan would control many fewer worlds, but this Hound would rule over them for as long as he wished.