Looking at the ring that had clattered from the destroyed Nazgûl, Kael carefully picked it up with his wand, treating it like a venomous serpent that might strike at any moment.
The ring was forged entirely of gold, its surface gleaming with an inner light that seemed to pulse with malevolent life. A white gem was embedded in its center, radiating an eerie luminescence that made the surrounding shadows dance.
So this was one of the legendary Nine Rings for Men? Kael examined it with fascination and growing unease, feeling the weight of its dark history in his hands.
Even through the protective barrier of his wand, he could feel a powerful temptation emanating from the accursed band. It whispered seductive promises directly into his mind, trying to entice him to slip it onto his finger and gain more powerful strength, near-immortal life, and dominion over lesser beings.
The ring's influence pressed against his mental defenses like oil seeping through cracks, promising everything his heart might desire if he would only surrender to its power.
Kael snorted coldly and immediately placed it in a specially prepared mithril box, the blessed metal completely severing the ring's corrupting influence the moment the lid snapped shut.
Though the Nine Rings for Men were undeniably powerful artifacts that could grant the wearer near-immortal abilities and supernatural strength, they were essentially honey wrapped around the deadliest poison imaginable.
Sauron had once infused his own malevolent essence into every one of these rings during their creation. Once worn, they would slowly corrode the mind like acid eating through steel, transforming the body into a ghost-like existence, eventually turning the victim into a Nazgûl completely dominated by Sauron's iron will.
Having unexpectedly obtained one of the Nine Rings for Men, Kael felt his spirits lift considerably despite the ring's dark nature.
He thought with grim satisfaction that Sauron would probably be absolutely furious when he discovered the loss. After all, the Dark Lord had specifically redistributed the Nine Rings to the Nazgûl to enhance their already formidable power, making them more effective servants and weapons.
He hadn't expected to lose one of his most precious assets so quickly and completely.
Kael wondered with dark amusement if Sauron would immediately recall the remaining rings from his other servants, fearing further losses to this troublesome wizard who seemed to appear wherever his plans were most vulnerable.
After savoring this small victory for a moment, Kael stopped dwelling on Sauron's probable rage and refocused his attention on the obsidian bottle containing the precious death essence he had risked so much to gather.
This time, due to the Nazgûl's sudden and violent appearance in the Unseen Realm, he hadn't had nearly as much time as he'd hoped to systematically collect the ethereal substance.
Even so, the incredibly rich concentration of death essence that saturated Dol Guldur's spectral counterpart had allowed him to gather more of the valuable material in those brief, dangerous minutes than he had managed during his entire previous expedition to Fornost.
Looking at the bottle now half-filled with swirling, dark essence that seemed to move with a life of its own, Kael surveyed the ruins of Dol Guldur around him. The fortress's death aura remained as potent and concentrated as ever, undiminished by his recent activities.
He realized with growing excitement that he wouldn't need to search for other suitable locations for his next venture into the realm of spirits. He could continue collecting death essence here, where the boundary between life and death remained permanently thin.
So he prepared to return directly to Lothlórien's golden safety, planning to spend several peaceful days sunbathing beneath the eternal autumn leaves to dispel the supernatural cold that still lingered in his bones before returning to Dol Guldur to brave the Unseen Realm once more.
Meanwhile, far to the east atop the imposing Tower of Barad-dûr in the volcanic wasteland of Mordor, Sauron instantly sensed the precise moment when Nazgûl Khamûl met his destruction.
The connection between master and servant, forged by the power of the rings and strengthened by centuries of domination, snapped like a broken chain, sending waves of shock through the Dark Lord's consciousness.
The Eye of Sauron suspended above the great tower's peak instantly erupted with more malevolent flames than had been seen in centuries, the vertical pupil dilating with rage as fire the color of fresh blood danced around its rim. The very air around the tower began to shimmer with heat, and distant mountains trembled at the force of his fury.
The remaining eight Nazgûl below, sensing their master's volcanic wrath through their mystical bonds, threw themselves prostrate on the black stone floor in absolute terror. They pressed their faces to the ground and begged wordlessly for mercy, knowing that Sauron's anger could unmake them as easily as a thought.
Just then, within the vertical pupil that yawned like a dark abyss in the center of the Eye, the ghostly figure of Nazgûl Khamûl began to reappear, his spirit drawn back to his master's presence by bonds that transcended death itself.
At the same time, all of the fallen Nazgûl's memories flowed into Sauron's consciousness like a torrent of bitter wine, showing him exactly how his supposedly invincible servant had been outmaneuvered and destroyed by a mere mortal wizard.
Witnessing his servant's humiliating defeat, Sauron's rage intensified beyond all reason.
"Useless!" The Eye's aura became like a bottomless abyss, its voice echoing through dimensions with the force of colliding worlds. "Not only did you fail to hold Dol Guldur against a single enemy, but you allowed yourself to be tricked by that accursed Black-robed Wizard into the real world, where your power was weakened, and then you were killed like a dog, even losing the Ring of Power I graciously bestowed upon you!"
The temperature around the tower dropped and rose in violent extremes as Sauron's emotions fluctuated wildly, ice forming and melting in rapid cycles on the metal surfaces.
"Khamûl, my supposedly faithful servant, tell me what possible use you still have to me?"
Facing Sauron's overwhelming and terrifying aura, which pressed down on him like the weight of mountains, Nazgûl Khamûl cowered and pleaded desperately. "Master, please! Grant me another chance! I will definitely recover the ring and bring you the wizard's head!"
But before he could finish his groveling words, agony beyond mortal comprehension spread through his entire spiritual being like liquid fire. The pain emanated from the very core of his soul, making Nazgûl Khamûl scream with such intensity that his voice cracked and shattered, his ghostly form twisting and deforming as if he were enduring all the anguish that had echoed through the pits of Angband.
The bone-chilling screams continued without pause or mercy, echoing through the iron halls of Barad-dûr, while the other Nazgûl prostrated themselves even more desperately against the stone floor. They didn't dare move so much as a finger, terrified that their master might redirect his terrible wrath toward them for even the smallest perceived slight.
Only after what felt like hours of torture, when Sauron's immediate anger had been partially vented through his servant's suffering, did Khamûl's spirit become extremely weak and translucent, nearly collapsing into nonexistence.
But with Sauron's dominating presence sustaining him, the Nazgûl could never truly die or find peace in oblivion. He could only continue enduring whatever punishments his master chose to inflict, trapped in an eternal cycle of torment and service.
"You no longer have reliable allies in that region willing to aid your cause. Unless we commit Mordor's full military might to support your endeavor, we must first deal decisively with both Rohan and Gondor. Otherwise, our armies won't even be able to reach Isengard's gates without fighting through organized resistance every step of the way."
Hearing Sauron's coldly logical assessment, Saruman's face contorted with pure malice, his eyes blazing with hatred so intense it seemed to physically heat the air around him.
"Kael!" He practically spat the name, seeming to want to chew each letter to pieces in his mouth, as if the very syllables caused him physical pain.
Seeing this display of raw hatred, Sauron allowed himself a satisfied smile that would have chilled the blood of any mortal witness.
If there was anything about this entire situation that brought him genuine pleasure, it was that Saruman had been forced to seek refuge in Mordor, effectively becoming one of his subordinates rather than an equal partner.
Though they had previously conspired together through the palantíri's mystical communication, they had essentially remained cooperating partners, each harboring secret ulterior motives and constantly trying to gain advantages over the other in their complex game of alliance.
But now, with Saruman's mighty stronghold occupied by enemies, his treacherous identity completely exposed to the White Council, and both his staff and Ring of Power stripped away, Saruman had lost all of his arrogant leverage. He had no choice but to depend entirely on Sauron's protection and resources.
Saruman truly deserved his reputation as Middle-earth's finest "engineer" and innovator. After arriving in Mordor and gaining access to Sauron's vast industrial resources, he had extensively expanded the realm's mechanical infrastructure, invented new types of explosives that could level castle walls, and forged massive siege weapons that dwarfed anything previously seen in warfare.
His improvements had effectively doubled Mordor's primitive military strength, transforming scattered orc tribes into a coordinated industrial war machine.
He had even conducted various experiments in dark creature breeding, systematically crossbreeding orcs with humans and other races to create large, sunlight-resistant Uruk-hai that could fight effectively during daylight hours when normal orcs would be weakened.
Curious about the progress of these projects, Sauron asked, "How is the development of our breeding program proceeding?"
Saruman shook his head with visible dissatisfaction, his multicolored robes rippling with his agitated movement.
"The Uruk-hai and Olog-hai, while they possess the valuable advantage of not fearing sunlight, remain only marginally superior to common cannon fodder when facing truly powerful opponents."
He gestured dismissively, as if discussing defective tools rather than living creatures.
"They perform adequately against ordinary humans and even trained soldiers, but against beings with supernatural abilities like that accursed Black-robed Wizard, they pose virtually no meaningful threat. That boy's cursed magical fire can easily reduce thousands of our finest troops to ash in mere minutes, making our numerical advantages completely meaningless."
Sauron nodded grimly in agreement, his own experiences supporting Saruman's pessimistic assessment.
There had been a time when orc armies alone had made him virtually unstoppable across Middle-earth, when the mere sight of his banners could send entire kingdoms into panicked retreat.
But now he had encountered this completely unreasonable Black-robed Wizard, whose magical abilities seemed to operate by entirely different rules than those governing other wizards. Where Gandalf and his kind were bound by restrictions and cosmic responsibilities, this Kael appeared to wield power without meaningful limitations.
During the Battle of Five Armies, Sauron had remotely observed the entire conflict through his palantír, watching with growing alarm as this unknown wizard demonstrated capabilities that defied conventional understanding.
From that pivotal moment, Kael had become his primary focus of attention and concern. The Dark Lord had experienced a prophetic certainty that this wizard would become his greatest threat, potentially even more dangerous than the combined might of Gondor and Rohan.
And subsequent events had proven his instincts disturbingly accurate. Under Kael's systematic interference, Sauron's carefully built power base was being dismantled piece by piece.
The giant spiders that had controlled Mirkwood for centuries were completely eliminated by Kael working alongside the woodland elves; his Spider Queen lieutenant was slain, the orc forces loyal to him in the depths of Moria were systematically exterminated by Kael and the resurgent dwarves, and orc strongholds throughout the Eriador region had been methodically crushed.
Each of these defeats demonstrated that Kael represented something fundamentally different from any opponent Sauron had faced in his long existence.
Like Saruman, the Dark Lord wanted nothing more than to permanently eliminate this troublesome wizard who seemed to appear wherever his plans were most vulnerable.
"So what's your plan to address this problem?" Sauron asked, his voice carrying the weight of genuine curiosity mixed with desperate hope.
Saruman's expression shifted to one of cunning anticipation, his eyes gleaming with the light of inspiration as he prepared to unveil his masterstroke.
"Since that Black-robed Wizard boy has managed to tame a dragon for his own purposes, why should we not have dragons of our own to balance the scales of power?"
He paused dramatically, savoring the moment before continuing.
"I seem to recall that your former master, Morgoth, once commanded entire legions of dragons that swept across Middle-earth like living earthquakes. Surely such magnificent creatures would serve your cause even better than his, wouldn't you agree, Sauron?"
Sauron's interest was immediately piqued, the flames around his Eye dancing with renewed intensity.
He had indeed secretly dispatched emissaries to contact the dragon Smaug at the Lonely Mountain, hoping to recruit the great wyrm to his cause through promises of treasure and power.
But dragons possessed pride that matched their physical might. Except for their original submission to Morgoth, who had played a role in their very creation, they showed complete disdain for recruitment attempts from Sauron, whom they regarded as merely a former "colleague" under their original master rather than a worthy leader in his own right.
"How exactly do you propose we accomplish this seemingly impossible task?" Sauron asked, his curiosity overcoming his skepticism.
Saruman's smile became predatory, revealing the depths of corruption that had taken root in his once-noble spirit.
"Besides the golden-red dragon Smaug, who has already chosen his allegiance, I know of another dragon that most believe lost to legend. An ancient wyrm that survived the catastrophic War of Wrath itself, making it older and potentially more powerful than Smaug could ever dream of becoming."
He paused to let this revelation sink in before continuing with growing excitement.
"Moreover, unlike Smaug's fire-breathing nature, this one is a cold-drake. Its breath can freeze the very souls of its enemies, and the mountains where it has made its lair remain perpetually covered in snow and ice due to the supernatural cold it exhales even while sleeping."
"You seriously propose attempting to win over such an ancient and powerful dragon?" Sauron questioned, his voice heavy with skepticism born from painful experience.
From everything he knew about dragonkind, they were interested only in accumulating treasure hoards and possessed pride that exceeded even that of the Valar themselves. Even Smaug, a relatively young dragon born only a thousand years ago, had shown Sauron nothing but contempt and dismissal.
An ancient dragon that had actually participated in the War of Wrath would be infinitely more arrogant and set in its ways.
So when he had learned that Kael had somehow managed to tame the dragon Smaug, even Sauron couldn't hide his burning envy and jealousy. After all, this represented treatment and respect he had never received, despite his vastly greater power and longer existence.
Saruman shook his head with an expression of cruel anticipation, his features twisted by the complete corruption that had claimed his once-noble heart.
"These ancient dragons will never obey willingly, no matter what incentives we might offer. But I have no intention of trying to win its cooperation through negotiation or bribery."
His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper that somehow carried clearly through the vast chamber.
"All I require are its bones and blood. Using its flesh and vital essence to crossbreed with our fell beasts and giant lizards, we can cultivate our own army of drakes that will be bound to our will from the moment of their creation. Then we'll possess a drake legion that rivals anything our enemies might field!"
Hearing Saruman's audacious proposal, Sauron's great Eye instantly blazed with flames brighter than any star, his voice trembling with barely controlled excitement and anticipation.
"You're certain you possess the knowledge and ability to accomplish this feat?"
Saruman nodded with supreme confidence, his bearing radiating the arrogance that had always been his greatest strength and most fatal weakness.
"Of course. But dragons, even sleeping ones, possess power that shouldn't be underestimated. I will require our combined strength working in perfect coordination to successfully subdue and harvest from this ancient cold-drake."
Sauron's laughter echoed through the iron halls of Barad-dûr, a sound that could have frozen the blood of armies and sent entire populations fleeing in terror.
"Then we shall proceed exactly as you suggest, my ingenious ally!"
"Moreover," the Dark Lord continued, his voice taking on an even more sinister tone, "I believe I can contribute an even better enhancement to your plan. We can have evil spirits possess that dragon's corpse and make it serve us directly, creating a weapon that combines the physical might of an ancient wyrm with the supernatural malevolence of our most powerful servants!"