The Witherlord floated in the Shadow, lost deep in thought. The meeting with Fate had been... informative. And, oh my, how so useful.
Fate couldn't intervene directly, or so he claimed. Something about upsetting the balance of power, or something.
But one did not have have to intervene directly in order to make an impact.
He'd thought he'd thought of a complex plan. Fate's plan, however... it put him to complete and utter shame.
A cold shudder ran down his back in excitement and anticipation. At last- at long, long last- his purpose would be fulfilled.
Fate itself had declared it would be so.