The chamber trembled with each beat of Malachi's heart, the air thick with the metallic scent of magic and the distant screams of lost souls echoing from beyond the veil. Candles flickered along the walls, their flames bending away from his imposing figure as if reluctant to illuminate his features. His obsidian claws tapped rhythmically against the armrest of his onyx throne, sending subtle vibrations through the stone floor.

Malachi's purple eyes flared with inner fire as a lesser demon scurried into the room, its form shifting and unstable. The stench of fear rolled off the creature in waves, a sickly-sweet aroma that brought a faint, cruel smile to his lips. The temperature dropped several degrees as he inclined his head slightly, his voice like grinding stone as he addressed the quivering messenger.

"Speak, worm," he commanded, the words carrying the weight of centuries of authority. "What news do you bring from the mortal realm that would dare interrupt my meditations?"

The demon prostrated itself, its voice a whimpering squeak that barely rose above the ambient hum of dark energy crackling through the chamber. "My lord... there have been... disturbances. Rituals failing. Portals collapsing. Something is blocking our influence in the northern territories."

A low growl emanated from deep within Malachi's chest, causing the very walls to vibrate. His claws dug deeper into the throne, leaving permanent gashes in the ancient stone. The audacity of it – someone dared challenge his dominion? After centuries of carefully weaving his influence through the mortal world like a spider spinning its web? The thought was... intriguing.