The days were already beginning to grow shorter in small, subtle ways. The nights grew cooler, the winds shifted directions. Autumn - with all of its bounty and strife - loomed on the horizon and with it's coming, Asmodeus felt the pressure to perform. Even though his own Queen remained glaringly absent, Asmodeus had not forgotten the plans they had made together.

Nor the plans he had made alone.

Of those, a few were more pressing than others. With each day that he delayed, his father slipped another rung closer to death, and a step farther away from the retribution that Asmodeus had promised him. Solomon had scorned the wrong son in trading him away. And while Asmodeus had managed to finagle his way into a position of power rather than one of subservience, it was of his own doing. Solomon would have let him rot in Nyimara's custody rather than learn to live with his mistakes somewhere else.

Despicable.

Shaking his head to clear it, Asmodeus strode toward the gentle arches of the Dunes with ears cupped forward and eyes narrowed for movement. He knew little of Helios beyond his name, but if he were to achieve his goals, that would have to change, and quickly. Lifting his charcoal maw, he called out for the other man, and then settled in to wait.