Chapter Text
His delay angered them to no end, the enactment of his goal's completion that he allowed made made the fire in their souls rage out of control. Inaction had seduced his heart, quieted his desires, and that was unacceptable. They longed to take his soul for their own, to make him one with them, to join their goals as one, but they could not do that without his invitation, without a contract. They had to reawaken his desires, stoke the righteous fury within him. Then he would come to them. Then they could become one and give his betrayer his deserved death. They would paint the ground with his blood, hear his cries for mercy and ignore it because he betrayed them and would die as all traitors deserved to. But first, he needed to see the truth. And that they would show him.Tonight.
The halls of the Institute of War were silent as Kalista made their way through the eastern wing, single-minded in their current goal to find the one who would become their next Oathsworn. There were so many here who needed their aid, yet the soul of one in particular called loudest, demanding their attention, screaming for aid, begging to be sated. Yet, he had not summoned them by the ritual, had not even given the slightest indication of accepting their pact even while his body slowly wasted away, his chance at vengeance fading every week that passed. Perhaps he did not know that they could aid him in completing his goal and relying simply on his own wit to kill the betrayer. So Kalista took it upon themselves to move to process along a bit, give him more incentive to join them.
And so this was how Kalista made their way to the door of Malcolm Grave's allotted suite, warded with the Institutes standard spells, more to prevent rival nations from sending assassins after each other than anything else, but even if they were the same that guarded the Grand Treasury of Demacia, they would still not be strong enough to deter Kalista from her goal. He was there of course, asleep, like most everyone else that called the Institute home, however temporarily their welcome lasted. It struck Kalista as odd, how peaceful the outlaw currently looked, with his hair messy, beard unkempt, and body more relaxed that they have ever seen him in his waking hours. They debated waking him to spur him into action while his betrayer was similarly helpless, but they decided not, for it was no secret that Graves was quick to jump to conclusions and more than a little trigger-happy. After all, Graves did not need to be awake for them to have influence over him. With tonight's task done, Kalista left to await the coming of morning and the enactment of the contract they would soon have, content with the knowledge that the outlaw's dreams would be pleasant that night.
And by tomorrow the wretched Cardmaster would be dead and Graves would dream no more.