《Mergo Hensya》 Mergo Hensya The Heiress
In the gloom of an unknown room, a foul odour lingers, triggering memories of past dread. My heart races, echoing the alarm of my quickened breaths. The scent is familiar, yet elusive¡ªperhaps a liquid? The stone walls blur in the dim light, their cold, impersonal touch mirrored by the floor beneath my bare feet. I inhale, ready to scream, to discover if I¡¯m alone, but the darkness answers unbidden. A ghastly visage emerges, grey eyes glinting with malice. A smirk, revealing a row of predatory teeth, anticipates the taste of my despair. His fingers, entwined in pale hair, pull it back, clearing his view of my terror. He approaches, tracing a jagged ¡®C¡¯ on my forearm with a tenderness that belies his intent. I yearn to scream, to cry for help, but my voice is stolen by a vile warmth filling my mouth. I¡¯m choking, alone, the sound of my struggle punctuated by the drip of liquid on stone. I awaken in my bed, the nightmare¡¯s chill lingering. Beside me, Steven stirred amidst the pillows. The night breeze offers little comfort. I reassured myself, touching my throat, dispelling the remnants of the dream. Steven¡¯s sleepy murmur broke the silence. ¡°I thought the dreams weren¡¯t so bad with me here.¡± Guilt twinges as I disturbed his rest, he always insisted on watching over me until sleep claimed me again. ¡°The dreams are just the same,¡± I whispered back, caressing his face. ¡°Go back to sleep.¡± I rose, the wooden floor¡¯s warmth was a pleasant contrast to the dream¡¯s chill. It was a comfort unique to the South, a balm against the night¡¯s terror. I shed my sweat-soaked clothes, seeking solace in the shower¡¯s heat. The day ahead would be haunted by that relentless face, but I had to believe it would get better. Steven should fall asleep; he usually does, effortlessly. I left the bedroom, dressed, and wandered to the living room. The letters on the table might offer a distraction. A carafe and a glass awaited, alongside the blue pills. I down the spiced alcohol, its burn chasing away the pill¡¯s bitterness. I settle on the sofa, the first letter in hand, the clock reading four in the morning. Perfect solitude. Steven¡¯s voice carried a hint of reproach. ¡°I thought you¡¯d return to bed.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not tired,¡± I lied, avoiding the pull of sleep and its nightmares -I don¡¯t feel like being captive. ¡°You are,¡± he insisted, lying down beside me, his gaze curious. ¡°You¡¯re just too stubborn to admit it.¡± ¡°Stubborn? Hardly,¡± I retorted, discarding the open letter. It fluttered to the floor, a silent surrender to gravity. Its contents, a baron¡¯s plea for conversion approval, held no interest for me. Such matters were beyond my concern. Steven¡¯s voice, tinged with humour, broke the silence. ¡°I know no one more steadfast than you¡ªperhaps only father rivals your resolve, yet even he yields at times.¡± I shook my head; Edgar¡¯s obstinacy far surpassed mine, his manner often abrasive. The comparison seemed unjust. I turned my attention to another letter, this one from Lord Haiden Beau Galleren. His words bristled with disdain for the Council¡¯s newest member¡ªa mage from Athran. His ignorance was glaring; the mages¡¯ ascendancy in the Council was by design, not accident. Steven¡¯s suggestion pierced my thoughts. ¡°We should take more time off. Yesterday was fun.¡± I nodded, though Galleren¡¯s scrawl on the page before me sparked irritation. He and his little friend Bearon seemed to believe they commanded the Council, but their delusions were crumbling. ¡°You seem less than thrilled,¡± Steven observed, his posture shifting to a mocking one. I glanced up, meeting his expectant gaze. ¡°Forgive me, I was distracted,¡± I admitted, setting aside the letter. ¡°Yesterday was perfect. In every single way. And while I''d prefer not to be part of the celebrations in Athran, I can''t wait to spend the whole week with you.¡± His eyes closed once more, content with my response. ¡°You¡¯ll accompany me in the North, save for a few obligations. A handful of dinners and temple visits, nothing more.¡± I was curious to see him among his friends, a circle unfamiliar to me. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°I look forward to it, though I¡¯ll pass on the temple,¡± I declared. ¡°I¡¯ve no interest in hearing twisted tales about my lineage, especially in Athran.¡± His soft chuckle was the only reply. Returning to Galleren¡¯s grievances, I pondered a response. The letter claimed Iohanna lacked the authority to nominate Gallien. With pencil in hand, I crafted a succinct reply, citing the Council¡¯s rules and the autonomy of its members. Personal biases toward mages held no weight here. I signed and folded the letter with a resigned sigh. ¡°Something¡¯s wrong?¡± Steven inquired, his eyes still shut. I assumed he was drifting back to sleep. ¡°Just contemplating Galleren¡¯s place on the Council,¡± I mused, letting the pencil vanish. The letter joined others on the desk for Riley to dispatch. ¡°Why is he still there?¡± ¡°Council members serve indefinitely, do they not?¡± His question seemed rhetorical. ¡°Tell me something I don¡¯t know,¡± I replied, a hint of irritation in my voice. I had no desire for an argument; Steven took such matters to heart. ¡°He¡¯s only fifty-seven.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ only, if he irks you so much, you have the authority to dismiss him,¡± Steven said, his frown deepening. ¡°Knowing you, I''d say you''ve had a reason for that for quite some time.¡± Removing Galleren was not my desire; the effort was daunting. ¡°It¡¯s too much paperwork,¡± I replied with a smile. ¡°His disdain for mages is what grates on me. He parades around as if he owns the world, wielding his family¡¯s legacy like a sceptre. His latest ¡®achievement¡¯ was a tiny tax reform for a small part of herbalists, likely whispered in his ear by Bearon. He¡¯s oblivious to the real issues at hand¡­¡± I paused, taking a deep breath. ¡°Never mind. You should go back to sleep.¡± ¡°I¡¯m wide awake,¡± he countered, his smile playful. A sudden knock interrupted us. ¡°Today¡¯s agenda seems full already,¡± I mused, opening the door without a single move. Damien, clad in a pristine white uniform adorned with geometric patterns, burst in, a package in hand. ¡°I hoped you¡¯d still be up,¡± he announced. My eyes darted to the clock; the minute hand had courageously scaled half its journey. ¡°I¡¯m already up,¡± I affirmed, standing and stretching. Whatever Damien¡¯s plan entailed, I needed to prepare. ¡°What do you want?¡± ¡°A brief stint in Lemford, some rest, and perhaps strong coffee¡­ what I want isn¡¯t really the issue. Stephan believes we¡¯ve neglected the far east for too long¡ªit¡¯s time for a reminder,¡± he stated, placing the red box down, his grin wide. ¡°That¡¯s just wonderful,¡± I yawned, the prospect unappealing. The far east meant Mergo Hensya, a land overwhelmed by its magical burden. Bound by treaty, its cities were annexed to Zessia, under the Heirs¡¯ dominion. The occurrences there were unparalleled. ¡°I can¡¯t just leave.¡± ¡°Nonsense. I¡¯ve already arranged it with the secretary¡ªRelly, Ralle¡­ whatever his name is. You¡¯ll be back in three days,¡± he insisted, gesturing towards the door. ¡°It¡¯s never just three days, Damien,¡± I chuckled. He knew better. He motioned towards the box. ¡°I¡¯ve brought you a gift.¡± ¡°I presume it¡¯s another uniform,¡± I said, reaching for the box with resignation. Damien hesitated. ¡°If only you¡¯d stop ruining them,¡± he chided. ¡°Ever tried removing blood from white fabric?¡± I quipped. ¡°No, and neither have you,¡± he retorted, chuckling as he adjusted his gloves. His cheerfulness was infectious. I rolled my eyes and proceeded to dress. There was no escaping this duty; my oath bound me. At least, accompanying Damien would offer a distraction from the nightmares and dull affairs of my kingdom. I donned white trousers and a shirt patterned with intricate triangles, then draped a coat over my shoulders, its design akin to a cape. How I wished to conceal my daggers within, but the uniform allowed no such convenience. The gloves would come last; for now, they hung from my waist. I rejoined Steven and Damien, their hushed conversation pausing as I approached. Steven¡¯s furrowed brow betrayed his disapproval of my departure. He probably viewed it as an unnecessary risk, not realising that this was my duty, my choice. ¡°I¡¯m ready,¡± I declared. Damien¡¯s scrutinising gaze swept over me, ensuring every detail of my uniform was in place. A single flaw would mar the family¡¯s image he so meticulously upheld. ¡°You¡¯re missing your sword,¡± he observed, his tone leaving no room for excuses. Reluctantly, I acknowledged the oversight and fastened my sword to my waist, seeking his approval with a raised eyebrow. He inspected me once more, adjusted a sleeve, and finally nodded, satisfied. ¡°White suits you,¡± Steven murmured, his voice a soft farewell. I embraced him, wishing I didn¡¯t have to leave him behind. ¡°Do you have to go?¡± ¡°It¡¯s my job¡ªthe real one,¡± I reassured him with a smile. ¡°I¡¯ll be back in three days, as I always am. Look after yourself.¡± ¡°You too,¡± he replied, his voice tinged with concern. ¡°Don¡¯t die!¡± The bare minimum The room we entered was dimly lit, its old wallpaper lending a deceptive charm. Furniture lined the walls, leaving the centre clear, save for a round carpet that hinted at the building¡¯s administrative purpose. ¡°What does Stephan want?¡± I asked Damien, who was smiling, fiddling with his watch, no doubt preparing his usual stupid commentary. ¡°Do you want the full story, or just the essentials?¡± he inquired. ¡°Essentials,¡± I decided, leaning against a table, finding the chairs too dirty for white uniform. I didn¡¯t need all the details. Time was of the essence, and Stephan¡¯s penchant for detail could consume it all. ¡°There are people who break our laws in Mergo¡ªdrawing magic, trafficking artefacts, even killing mages,¡± Damien explained, his casual tone belying the gravity of the situation. ¡°But this letter,¡± he said, producing a crumpled sheet of paper from his coat, ¡°mentions a woman who saw power being syphoned with a crystal. Another witness claimed to have seen the culprit, but vanished before giving a description. Stephan wants us to investigate, but there¡¯s more,¡± he paused for effect. I braced myself. ¡°What could be more pressing than the highest law being broken?¡± Damien leaned in, his voice low. ¡°Someone¡¯s tampering with the fabric between worlds. Using those crystals, they¡¯ve opened a door and let something through. A being¡­¡± A chill ran down my spine. ¡°It¡¯s been decades since something like that. Last time, it got heated -literally. But why involve me?¡± I asked, knowing Damien was more than capable on his own. "Well, first and foremost, I need a translator," he murmured, sliding the cryptic letter back into the shadowed confines of his pocket. I could read it, but if he wanted my help, why would he lie? "Someone skilled in the old language and the stupid dialects of theirs." his voice was a mere whisper. "You need me to translate the very language you taught me?" I questioned, the irony not lost in my tone. "Steph did, not me. And secondly," he continued, his laughter tinged with an unmistakable edge of hysteria, "I''m not sure how many escapades remain for the two of us." His words hung heavy, a foreboding cloud in the air. "How many escapades remain? Are you going somewhere?" I wondered, seeking clarity. "I am not going anywhere, but as for you..." he trailed off, his gaze averted, "if you want to go back to the South or North, I won''t stop you," his words laced with a bitterness that nearly stung. Had I not known Damien better, I might have mistaken his tone for jealousy¡ªjealousy for the time I''ve spent with Steven. "Go back to all the complaints on my desk and leave you all the fun? I don''t think so," I retorted with a playful smile, slipping on my gloves¡ªonce thought to be just useless adornments until my dear uncle acquainted me with their true purpose. Until a couple of these little trips were behind us I never knew the stuff one could stick a hand to. "So, what is the grand scheme?" "In truth, there is none. Not yet," he confessed, beckoning me to trail behind him through the building. "The mayor holds the missing pieces of this freaking puzzle or so I was told. We will craft our strategy upon his counsel." He led the way, his familiarity with the building evident as he ascended the staircase to a room bathed in sunlight, opposing the night¡¯s darkness that still clung to our home. Damien didn''t pause to survey his surroundings nor seek guidance. He strode with purpose, navigating the space with certainty, down a narrow corridor to a door that marked the end. "You know your way around here," I observed. "Well, yes, we stand within the Se''masse administrative stronghold. I spend a lot of time here," he admitted. Se''masse was a pivotal nexus within our diminutive empire, remaining under Damien''s vigilant watch. My own visits were scarce and fleeting, my knowledge of this place limited to the vague outlines on a map, denoting this significant cesspool. "Oh," was all I could muster, a feeble echo to his revelation. He rapped on the door, which yielded with a muted click. Damien entered first, stepping into the cramped office where books teetered on the brink of collapse from overstuffed shelves, and a table shoved aside to accommodate an ugly green sofa. The last shreds of grey wallpaper clung desperately to walls, and the light waged a losing battle against the oppressive curtains that barred its entry. Noteworthy was the cage housing an exotic bird, its vibrant plumage an anomaly in this dreary setting, its feathers scattered with careless abandon. The young woman was an incongruity in this space. Clad in a form-fitting black dress, she rose and circled the table, the fabric accentuating her silhouette¡ªa sight not lost on Damien. "My lady, my lord," she greeted, her diction devoid of any regional inflection, a testament to either a Zessian upbringing or extensive time spent amongst its people. Despite Se''masse''s allegiance, the Imperial tongue had failed to take root here, at least amongst the common folk. "On behalf of my father, I extend the warmest welcome to the Free City of Se''masse." "Is all well with your father?" Damien inquired, concern etching his features. The woman, though striking, was of a type all too familiar¡ªbeautiful yet unremarkable. Which was probably the worst type at the moment. Damien''s predilections were a mystery to me; he could command the attention of any woman, yet consistently chose the epitome of mediocrity. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. "Merely trifles we are well equipped to manage," she assured him with a genuine smile, one that seemed reserved for him exclusively. She reached for an item on the table, presenting him with a hefty folder. In that moment, a glint of gold caught my eye¡ªa ring encircling her finger, and I was not the only one to take notice. "This, he insisted I deliver unto you." Damien seized the folder, his fingers dancing through the pages with a practised ease, a self-satisfied nod betraying his inner delight. I''ve witnessed this ritual countless times; he recognized the contents and revelled in their implications. His gaze, unwavering, remained locked with the young woman as he passed the dossier to me. Its weight was deceptive, dense with secrets that threatened to spill forth. "I hold your father in high esteem, yet he never mentioned the existence of such an enchanting daughter. I must know, what name graces such beauty?" he inquired, sounding like an idiot with a hint of playfulness in his tone. "Arbatta," she responded with alacrity, her eyes glinting with mischief as she deftly obscured the wedding ring on her finger. "I am wholly at your service, my liege." The papers in my grasp elicited a visceral repulsion running down my spine, not for their content but for the spectacle before me. Damien''s predilections for companionship were one thing, but the brazen display of affection was quite another. The documents in my hands had only one purpose to capture all my attention. They pointed us unerringly toward the local commander. "Your assistance will no longer be required," I declared, snapping the folder shut and finally allowing myself to truly look at her. Her visage was a canvas of crimson, matching the fiery cascade of her hair with shiny lipstick. Damien''s gaze, however, was ensnared by her, unable to escape the gravitational pull of her presence. "For the moment," he corrected, his smile laden with unspoken promises. "I would hate for this to be our final farewell." I retreated back to the corridor, fleeing the scene before my actions betrayed my thoughts, the unsavoury trajectory of their little exchange already burned into my mind. Minutes later, Damien rejoined me, smoothing his hair back into place, reclaiming the file with a casual smile. "She''s married," I couldn''t help but blurt out, a tinge of accusation in my voice. "And? I''m just indulging in a harmless dalliance," he retorted with a dismissive shrug. "No, it''s gross," I countered, my disgust palpable. "Mmm... Not everyone has the luxury of their best friend''s sibling awaiting them in bed. But don''t worry, I''ll still be your favourite uncle," he quipped, draping an arm around my shoulders as we exited the building. "Shall we seek out the commander now?" Before I could gather my bearings, our surroundings had changed. We stood at the base of a muddy incline, the path winding up a formidable hill. "Not a chance," I protested. "The mud and the white uniforms are ill-suited companions." "We can''t get up except on our own two, human feet. Magic here is but a whisper," he explained, a note of irritation creeping into his voice. "Also, Stephan has forbidden it," he added, trudging upward, careful to tread upon the grass flanking the treacherous path. "Why?" I called after him, my curiosity piqued. "A sacred shrine lies above, and we are bound by honour to respect their traditions, or something," he called back, his pace unrelenting. "Just move your ass." "And what business does the commander of the guard have in such a sacred place?" I queried, hastening to match his stride. The grass beneath my feet seemed firm, a surprising ally against the climb. "Should he not be stationed within the city?" "The term ''sanctuary'' is telling, is it not?" he replied, his voice laced with arrogance. "I don¡¯t know, Jim, I visited way too many sanctuaries and contemplation was rarely my purpose there," I retorted with a smirk. The hill loomed before us, a challenge that would test both time and patience. I should have made him take us all the way up and dealt with Stephan myself. "Contemplation was never your favourite. It''s rather ironic, considering your moniker, Child of Light," he chuckled. "I find no humour in it," I quickened my pace. "Let''s not rewrite your chronicles on my account. I¡¯m not that special compared to the other Heirs." "That''s where you''re wrong," he countered, his gaze piercing, hinting at his annoying little secrets. "It''s all woven into the fabric of your fate." "You expect me to believe ¨ªn something so stupid as fate?" I interjected, my response was the same as always. "I''m aware of my powers but... it''s utterly ludicrous, Jim." "It''s not ludicrous, Princess," Damien''s voice cut through the silence, his gaze piercing me with an intensity that demanded attention. He recognized my reticence and pressed onward, ascending the treacherous path with a determination that left me scrambling in his wake. The silence between us was a tangible entity, stifling any attempt at conversation. His mood was a tempestuous sky, dark and unpredictable. The ascent was laborious, a slow battle against the elements. The mud was a treacherous adversary, filled with deceptive puddles that threatened to swallow us whole or at least the clean white boots. The grass, where it had managed to dry, offered little respite, betraying our footing at every turn. Damien''s pace quickened, a silent challenge thrown down before me, and I, weary of the chase, resolved to follow at my own measured tempo. The landscape around us was a distorted canvas, a world slightly askew, punctuated by the occasional bush that seemed more like refuse discarded upon the hillside. My only hope was that the sanctuary at the summit would justify this arduous journey. "I trust I''m not outpacing you," Damien called back, a note of mock concern in his voice as I finally drew level with him, the hill''s crest within reach. "I didn¡¯t realise we were racing against time. If we exhaust our adventures on day one, what of the days to follow?" I replied, my breath catching up with my words. "Oh, I have no doubt I¡¯ll find something more fun for us," he assured me, his laughter echoing Jon''s, yet lacking the same depth. "This time, you¡¯ll do the talking," he gestured ahead, where the mire gave way to a stone pathway, a welcome reprieve from the muck. Were here to fix your problems We entered the sanctuary in a hush, its purpose unknown to me, yet its ambiance was undeniably serene. It was akin to a greenhouse, if not for the imposing stone walls. Verdant foliage spilled from pots, and big, pink blooms of Fittere, a sight I believed lost to me and the rest of this world, flourished in vibrant defiance. Our path led to a central fountain, now a cradle for plants rather than water, reminding me of a similar sight in Dithune -a fountain adorned with flora. Amidst the blossoms perched a statue of a robust woman, her identity lost to me. It seemed the people here revered a pantheon of deities, each presiding over their own domain of miracles¡ªcrops, weather, fertility, love, death, magic... A sudden movement caught Damien''s attention; footsteps hastened toward us. An elderly woman emerged from behind a towering bloom, her gasp punctuating the air as her eyes fell upon us. She halted, sinking to her knees¡ªa gesture I found distasteful. "Valea, de A lai," I approached, extending my hand to lift her from her undeserved prostration. Her grey robe pooled around her on the floor, the white of our uniforms was more than enough of an introduction. She raised her head, her gaze lingering on me before settling on Damien, who remained a silent sentinel behind me. The woman stayed rooted to the ground, ignoring my outstretched hand, instead offering a cascade of apologies in a voice roughened by age or sorrow. I bowed slightly, a concession to her fear. It was a loathsome thing for me, to have someone kneel and beg forgiveness for no fault of their own. She could not have anticipated our arrival; we were, after all, accustomed to moving without announcement throughout the continent. Her eyes, wide with terror, spoke volumes of the tales spun about my family in these remote corners. Perhaps she feared a swift and unjust retribution for any unintentional offence. "Ceatta mossi et ratt''u?" I asked, reversing the roles of aid. If she would not accept my help, perhaps she could help me. "Ratt''u?" she echoed, her confusion palpable as she searched for the appropriate response. I nodded, unwilling to repeat myself, especially not in the screwed dialect that had taken root here. Unlike Damien I preferred the old language, I just didn¡¯t enjoy the local tweaks. "Anallea ratt''u..." she murmured, her voice a whisper before unleashing a torrent of words, each one laden with an urgency that demanded deciphering. The sanctuary''s air become thicker with tension, a silent battle of wills unfolding within its ancient walls. Damien''s presence loomed beside me, a silent guardian as I sifted through the old woman''s words. "She claims the commander is absent, that only the common folk tread these sacred grounds," I translated, though I knew Damien''s grasp of the language was as innate as the blood coursing through his veins. "Then where might he be?" Damien pondered aloud, his fingers rifling through the dossier with a sense of urgency. I stood up, Damien rummaging through the papers in his hands. I pulled out a picture of the man we were looking for. He does not look like a commander, he is not muscular and isn''t far from retirement. The clean-shaven head makes his giant ears stand out, and his gaze isn''t as hard as one might expect from a commander. "I asked her about a soldier, not a man." I said, bending down to the now praying woman. Fear had enveloped her, she must¡¯ve thought we presented danger. "A catta is musso?" The photograph was met with a fleeting glance and a shake of her head. "She''s lying," Damien declared, a statement as clear as day though absolutely useless, we could both sense it. A subtle twitch from the woman caught my eye; she understood more than she let on¡ªshe understood the Imperial tongue. The commander had to be close; the sanctuary''s confines were not vast. "Finding him will be easy," I assured myself, knowing full well that Damien would heed my command. "No magic," he reminded me, a warning that drew an involuntary eye roll from me as I unsheath my sword¡ªnot with the intent to harm, but to ensure our safety. The sanctuary''s secrets were not deeply buried. A door to the right beckoned, and I approached, resisting the urge to use a spell to gain entry. The handle resisted, then gave way, revealing an empty room¡ªor so it seemed. A shadow and a sound of breathing betrayed the presence of another. I stepped in, poised for confrontation. A swift movement, a deft dodge, and I had the intruder''s arm secured behind his back, his face pressed against the wall, a cry of pain escaping his lips. "I don''t want trouble," he uttered in a coarse accent. Silently, I escorted him back to Damien, his compliance portrayed a contrast to the defiance I had anticipated. I forced him to the ground beside his would-be protector, who remained prostate, likely at Damien''s insistence. The gleam of Damien''s sword lay between them, a barrier of crystal and intent. "We don''t want problems either. On the contrary, we came to solve them." I proclaimed, sheathing my sword as a gesture of peace, awaiting Damien to follow suit. "In the name of the Light, we come to mend and enforce order. You have reported a very serious crime, and we trust you hold the evidence to substantiate such claims." The man before us held secrets, ones that extended beyond the confines of the file in Damien''s grasp. The man looked me straight in the eye, his look a maelstrom of fear and defiance, met mine. His lips turned into a narrow, thin line. He nodded slowly, rolled up his sleeve and showed us his forearm, covered with a dirty bandage. He removed the cloth, revealing runes carved deep into the skin. He immediately returned me to the dream that had woken me up so early in the morning. I can remember the pain that such a spell can cause. It paralyses the whole body, makes movement impossible and banishes thoughts of everything pleasant. And the fact that someone used runes instead of the modern procedure put hairs all over my body at attention. The face with a perfectly cruel smile returned. I had to take a deep breath and force myself to look away as my palms crushed my fingers locked into them. Now is not the time for me to make a fuss. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Damien''s curse echoed off the stone walls, a profane outburst that seemed to reverberate with the gravity of our discovery. "I thought you had proof, not that you were the proof!" "Jim..." I implored, my focus returning to the man. His wounds were a grotesque tapestry of pain and first aid, the skin barely holding together. "You need proper care. What''s your name?" I asked, though I knew the answer lay within the folder we had brought. "Ledon, ma''am," he replied, his voice a low rumble of resignation. "It won''t heal. It''s beyond repair." Damien''s voice rose from behind me, a staunch defence against despair. "She can mend it. She can mend anything." With a sense of purpose, I removed my glove and placed my palm upon the marred skin. The warmth from my hand seeped into the cuts, a silent prayer for healing that I dared not voice aloud. I couldn''t bear the look at the wound as it was. "How?" The woman''s voice, tinged with astonishment, broke my concentration. "It''s what I do," I responded, my tone even, as I inspected Ledon''s forearm. The rune that once marred his skin was now gone, replaced by the unblemished flesh of healing. "Stand up, both of you," I commanded, and they complied¡ªLedon with a reluctance born of disbelief. Damien''s inquiry cut through the stillness. "Are you the witness we''ve been seeking?" "They thought... that I''m dead..." Ledon murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "... Mallie, la... lai..." he added, an absent gaze remained fixed on his hand. The woman interjected, her voice a soothing balm to the tension. "I didn''t conceal him from you. He was frightened, and I sought only to help." I turned away from their exchange, my attention drawn to a bench against the wall. "Help me with this," I instructed. Damien, finding a moment of utility, assisted Ledon to the bench. "You''ll have to explain this yourself." I ignored Damien''s barb, knowing full well that an explanation to Stephan would be more expedient coming from me. Grasping Ledon''s hand, I delved into his psyche, searching for the root of his terror. The darkness was pervasive, a void that repelled all light, leaving only fear and exhaustion in its wake. No joy, no hope¡ªsuch absence was a rarity. I pressed deeper, the shadows resisting, as if guarding the memories that held the key to the dread left his post. The runes may have been erased from his skin, but the scars they left behind in his mind beckoned me to uncover their origin. The scars were not just wounds; they were a cryptic script etched into flesh, a broken ''C'' that seemed to collapse inward, mirroring Ledon''s own downfall. But what sinister forces had driven him to such a fate? I deluged deeper. I saw rain, a steep path among abandoned bushes, the ground beneath a slurry of mud and abandoned hopes. His world was a canvas of greys and browns, save for a singular beacon atop the hill, a lighthouse in the tempest. Then, as sudden as a snuffed candle, darkness claimed everything when Ledon succumbed to the void. I need a different memory, a memory buried before the storm. The city was a labyrinth cloaked in shadow, each street a carbon copy of desolation. Life had vacated these parts, leaving behind only silence and decay. Ledon stuck to the side of the street, crouching in the shadows, every pulse of light, every whisper of sound conjuring phantoms in his mind. He was not alone; the darkness harboured a presence, a hunter in the alleys of his dread. His misstep was a prelude to chaos; his face met the wall with a sickening thud, a grim echo of my own recent blunder. Hands, cold and impersonal, spun him to face his assailant¡ªa figure donned in a mask as white as bone, its features obscured, its gaze empty. Rage was a wildfire in Ledon''s veins, threatening to consume all reason -his and mine. To yield to it was to endanger him further, yet it was a siren call he struggled to resist. A surge of pure energy, raw and untamed, erupted from Ledon¡¯s hand, flooring his captor. He was no mage, yet desperation had lent him a fleeting might. The second foe materialised from the ether, his blow to Ledon''s gut was like a hammer to anvil. Pain fragmented his recollections, severing the threads of sanity. It was the third strike that cast him down, his cries drowned by the cacophony of his attacker''s mirth. I was on the brink of being overwhelmed by the agony and lunacy of his mind. Yet, Ledon''s spirit was unyielding. He rose, his movements instinctive, hands grappling for the mask. He jerked and ripped it from his attacker''s face, giving me a perfect view. The man was a tapestry of scars and malice. His nose, a crooked monument to past brawls, and a jagged scar upon his cheek, a signature of violence. Damien would have no trouble hunting him down. I retreated from Ledon''s psyche, the runes and my own haunting memories looming too close for comfort. I steadied myself, Damien''s scent a grounding anchor as he caught me from falling. "Jim, lift his shirt," I commanded, finding my footing once more. Damien''s incredulous gaze met mine, but he complied. The bruise that emerged was a portent of danger, a dark spot swirling across Ledon''s skin. It begged questions of its extent and the peril it posed. Healing it was within my power, yet the risk was as great as the injury itself. My meddling had already wrought enough havoc. "He needs more than prayers; he needs a real medic," I declared, the weight of Ledon''s shared visions heavy upon us both. "Fetch me pen and paper," I instructed the woman beside Damien. She nodded, a swift silhouette against the dim light. "Did you get anything?" Damien''s voice was a hushed whisper contrasting with the tumultuous thoughts raging within me. I hesitated, the weight of the visions I bore too heavy to recount with words. Instead, I reached out, letting the fragments of Ledon''s ordeal flow into Damien''s mind¡ªhis search for the sanctuary, the shadowed figure, and the unexpected spark of magic. "He''s no mage," Damien murmured, his gaze never leaving the motionless body on the bench. "No, he''s not. But it''s quite fascinating what an ordinary person can do with a little power" I replied, a wry smile touching my lips despite the gravity of our situation. My eyes lingered on Ledon, he truly didn¡¯t resemble any commander. "It also explains his dark thoughts and why it makes me sick." Damien nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Will you be able to track the man down?" "Of course," he replied, his confidence unshaken as he accepted the pencil and paper from the approaching woman. His hand moved swiftly, inscribing a message only he knew. "I''ll return to the city and set things in motion. We''ll reconvene there," he said, pressing the folded note into my hand. "Go," I urged, slipping the paper into my coat pocket¡ªa future cipher to unravel. With a curt nod, Damien departed, his steps hastening as he vanished from sight. Not a glimmer of hope With him out of sight,, I turned my attention to the man on the bench, his breaths shallow and sporadic. Perhaps it was not unconsciousness that claimed him but a merciful slumber. "Will he recover?" the woman beside me asked, her voice laced with concern. "That remains to be seen," I answered, pulling on my gloves once more. They served a dual purpose¡ªconcealing the conspicuous ring that marked my identity, attacking all the attention and granting me a semblance of anonymity. Although, my uniform betrayed my allegiance. "We''ve bent the rules to their breaking point, and for that, I am truly sorry. But I must ask for one final indulgence." Her eyes widened in surprise. "You seek my permission?" I nodded, a gesture of respect in a world where such courtesies were often forgotten. "Please, allow me this." A faint smile graced my lips as I imagined Stephan''s ire upon learning of my defiance. Rising, I traced a line in the air, inscribing runes that glowed with an ethereal light. They coalesced into a shimmering portal, slicing through reality to reveal a distant place. An elderly man clad in white emerged from the rift, unfazed by the sorcery or the distance traversed. "Take him to safety, care for him. His name is Ledon," I instructed. The man nodded, his experienced hands gently assessing Ledon before lifting him with ease. He awaited my final command. "Guard him with your life, Mr. Tuck. The Second Heir will need him. That will suffice, thank you." With a solemn nod, he disappeared into the portal, Ledon in tow. "Where has he taken him?" the woman inquired, her composure returning. "To Nerkam," I replied, sinking into the space Ledon had occupied moments before. "But that''s across the whole continent!" she gasped. "Yes, I''m aware," I murmured, my hands covering my face as the room began to spin. Depleted of power, my body yearned for a replenishing touch, a hint of the arcane to soothe the gnawing emptiness. Yet, it found scant relief. Questions swirled in my mind, each more pressing than the last. Who was the masked man, and whom did he serve? The crystal black market didn''t dare such brazen daylight encounters. And yet, here was a new player. I thought we knew all the players. And suddenly a new piece appears on our bloody game board in the game being played for centuries? A worn figure etched in runes, fearless enough to challenge the Heirs to a duel. I''ve never put much stock in coincidences; this figure was no novice to our deadly dance. "You must drink, ma''am," her voice, gruff yet oddly tender, broke the silence like a distant echo. She extended a mug of steaming liquid towards me, the sweet scent of Azattico root wafting up. I accepted the cup, the aroma belying the bitter taste that awaited. "After all these years, it still tastes exactly the same. No one ever says it out loud, but it''s disgusting. My father made it often; it chased away nightmares, lulled me into sleep after... after everything." I paused, the memories threatening to spill over. The taste was a portal to a past I wished to forget, a past where coincidences were omens in disguise. "I''m not sure why I''m sharing this," I mused, wishing for a watch to measure the time slipping by. "You need to rest," she insisted, her voice a soothing balm I almost surrendered to. But not today. Not when eternity stretched before me. "Rest offers nothing to the Immortals,," I recited the ancient adage, though it wasn''t mine to claim. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Do me a favour," I requested, scribbling a note. "Someone will come and ask you about the Heirs, give them this note," With a deep bow, I began my descent. The journey down was a solitary affair, an hour''s trek made in defiance of the rules I''d shattered. Damien''s note was cryptic¡ªmeet at Lord Jatter''s residence, a name and place unknown to me, a puzzle wrapped in another mystery. Like things couldn¡¯t be simple. The people on the streets greeted me with wide eyes and hasty bows, the populace parting like the sea before me. Their fear was palpable, their reverence a shackle I neither desired nor enjoyed. Directions from them were out of the question. A dingy pub in a forgotten alley beckoned¡ªa respite, perhaps, or a new adventure. The patrons'' illicit dealings halted at my entrance, their wary gazes tracking my every move. I was an anomaly here, a disruption to their sordid normalcy. The door slammed shut behind me, commanding the attention of even the most inebriated souls. Approaching the bar, the bartender''s gaze was unsettling, her smile a twisted caricature of welcome. "La vi''a, a terra na," I declared, tossing money onto the sticky surface. She retrieved a bottle shrouded in shadows, its contents a mystery only the brave dared explore. As she placed it before me, a glint of something otherworldly caught my eye¡ªa necklace, perhaps a crystal, pulsating with hidden power. She concealed it swiftly, but not before our eyes met, an unspoken understanding passing between us. This city, with all its shadows and secrets, was a reflection of the world I navigated¡ªa maze of hidden truths and veiled threats. My hand closed around the neck of the bottle, only to be met by another, uninvited grasp. I turned to face the audacious soul who dared challenge me¡ªa man as dishevelled as the rest, but with a spark of reckless courage in his eyes. His crooked smile was a challenge, and I met it with my own disarming grin. As his attention wavered, my fist found its mark on his chin. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. He reeled back, fumbling for the weapon at his waist, but his bravado faltered under my steady gaze. The dagger he brandished dropped with a resounding clatter as my sword materialised in my grip¡ªa blade as clear as diamond, commanding silence from the onlookers. Their fear was palpable, a testament to the authority I wielded without uttering a single word. With the bottle reclaimed, I departed the foetid tavern, my mood still intact. A part of me yearned for the confrontation to escalate, to give me cause to unleash the fury I held at bay. But the man did not rise to the bait. The stark white of my uniform was a beacon amidst the drab surroundings, a symbol of the Immortals that demanded recognition. Yet, I longed for the anonymity of shadow, for a black garb that would let me merge with the masses. Perched high above the city, I sipped the surprisingly palatable brandy, observing the lives unfolding below. The people were ensnared in their daily routines, content in their simple existences. Their brief interactions, their laughter, all seemed so distant to me. I envied their ignorance, their unremarkable lives that would one day be condensed into a few etched words on a tombstone. The thought of him, with his green eyes and naive outlook, stirred a longing within me. His absence was a void I couldn''t fill, and the thought of dragging him into this world of dark magic and power struggles was unbearable. But I couldn¡¯t let go of him. Damien''s laughter broke my reverie, his voice laced with irony as he plucked the bottle from my hand. "So, I''m supposed to be looking for him, I have to run up and down, and you''re here what? Playing with a bottle of disgusting alcohol?" he chided. I couldn''t tear my gaze away from the scene below, the fleeting nature of their lives mesmerising. "Their existence is so... transient. It reminds me of Tre¡¯Asco. The leaves at Jath, remember?" I mused, the memory bitter on my tongue. His smirk was knowing. "The ones you despised?" I shrugged, the taste of those leaves as vivid as the memories they conjured. "Disgusting, yet unforgettable¡ªmuch like the past. I wonder if they''re still out there, somewhere." "I might have some in Eagaveli, if you want those so badly-" Damien''s voice was a comforting rumble, but it shifted to concern. "Andrea, what''s wrong? You never wait for me." I shrugged off his worry with a half-hearted smile. "I''m not waiting for you. I just needed... a moment." "Is Nerkam proving too much?" he prodded gently, his eyes searching mine. I scoffed, feigning offence. "You think I can''t handle the Council or a few letters? That''s insulting, Jim." His expression shifted, a new curiosity lighting his features. "So, it''s the young Steeles that''s troubling you?" "Young Steeles..." I echoed, the nickname leaving a sour taste. "Steven''s fine," I insisted, reclaiming the bottle and taking a long drink, avoiding his penetrating gaze. "What is it then?" he pressed, knowing well I was evading. The truth was a knot in my chest, but Damien deserved honesty. "It''s that dream again¡ªthe one that never changes. I''m trapped, suffocating, and he''s never there... But he''s never there. He''s not in those dreams, you know? It''s been so long since I last saw his face. And suddenly he just showed up. I''ve never believed in coincidences, and neither have you. And after all these years, I see him on the very day we go looking for a guy with the same rune on his hand. A rune drawn by someone who needs to draw himself. So either I''m starting to get tired and I''m overly paranoid, or something is going on and you and your dear brothers know what." Damien''s frown deepened. "So you''re paranoid in both cases. There are few runes that harm, and only one that paralyses. You know that. What did you see?" I hesitated, the dream''s grip still tight. "Nothing that matters. We have work to do, don''t we?" He dismissed my deflection with a wave. "Who cares about work, we have the rest of our lives to do it. I''m worried about you right now" I sighed, knowing he wouldn''t drop it. "Then explain that to Stephan when we return empty-handed." "He cares for you more than any task at hand," Damien assured me, his voice firm. "He adores you as much as the rest of us. And it will be easier for both of us if you get back in one piece and with a smile on those pretty lips. That, after all, is my job. And I won''t fuck it up again," "The fact that you left, Jim," The conversation turned, and suddenly it was about Steven. "Did you tell him about the dream?" I shook my head. "No. He''s not ready for such burdens. He''s still adjusting to everything. He freaked out about those two days in Narral. What do you think he''ll do if I tell him this? He couldn''t understand it, it had been weeks... Besides, I have no reason to burden him with it, do I?" Damien''s tone was stern. "Don''t underestimate him. He''s Steeles, Edgar''s Heir. Besides, I have a feeling that it would help if you told him." "Mhm¡­ he''s Steeles in every aspect, we''re not taking that away from him." I pondered his words, the image of Steven''s ring¡ªa wolf''s head¡ªflashing in my mind. "I love you -uncle dearest, but I won''t drag him into my past, into my time with those psychopaths," I resolved. "What did you find out?" Jim''s eyes glinted with a mix of mischief and resolve. "We''ll need to move soon. But first, let''s see if you''re ready for a fight," he said, nodding towards the bottle. "You taught me to drink, so, you tell me." I stood up, leaving the alcohol on the wall. "Another transgression that Jonathan will never forgive me," he began to draw runes in the air. He always liked to open portals. Somehow he revels in it. "He''d forgive you if you asked," I watched him as he worked. His runes never shine as brightly as mine.. "I won''t ask him for anything," he assured me sternly. He stubbornly insisted he never wanted a younger brother. "After you, Princess." "I know, you won''t ask him and he won''t apologise. It''s a hopeless situation," I patted him on the shoulder and walked through the portal to the other side. I''ve had enough of the ridiculously ordinary city anyway. Having fun, yet? As I emerged from the swirling vortex of the portal, a zephyr laced with the sweet concoction of fruit, smoke, and blossoms greeted me. The narrow street, alive with the typical cacophony of a festival in full swing, seemed an unlikely battleground for otherworldly encounters. Yet there we were, amidst the revelry, tasked with a mission that could ignite chaos -literally- as it did in our last fiery debacle. "Jim, are we certain this is the spot?" I inquired, eyeing the portal''s closure with scepticism. He grinned, adjusting his uniform with a flourish. "What''s life without a little masquerade? I can''t even remember the last time we were at a carnival." "I do, five years ago in a coastal town. You wanted to celebrate the anniversary of the Great Revolution by having a little fun with the locals without these uniforms. And you''ve found that without it, you don''t stand the slightest chance." "Remember the blonde and her companion?" he teased, a twinkle in his eye. I scoffed. "A victory hard-won through sheer persistence. But then again, I enjoyed watching you suffer." "Then maybe you''ll have the same fun now." he retorted, a challenge in his voice. "If only the throng didn''t suffocate," I muttered, the sea of bodies a vibrant barrier to our quest. "Embrace the chaos, follow the rules, and leap at the first sign of our quarry," he instructed, gripping my hand firmly. I wrenched away, my independence bristling. "Like I¡¯m the one breaking rules. Try not to burn down the whole city." Melding into the crowd, my white uniform stood out against the tapestry of colours yet was lost in the sheer volume of the festival-goers. Costumed creatures, leaping dancers, and curious onlookers filled the street to the brim, leaving no space for suspicion or solitude. Elbows became my compass as I navigated the human maze, seeking a path unseen yet in plain sight. Progress was a slow dance, a mere shuffle of feet that eventually drove me to the refuge of an alleyway. The city sprawled before me, a flat canvas devoid of vantage points. To discern an alien presence among this throng, proximity was key¡ªassuming it bore a human guise. A detail I should''ve clarified with Damien before our paths separated. Leaning against the chill of the building''s facade, I lit a cigarette, the ember a fleeting warmth against the encroaching night. Damien''s idea of ''fun'' was proving to be a gruelling test of patience. A sense of foreboding gnawed at me¡ªwe were better together in this hunt. The street''s tableau shifted, the dancers'' vibrant skirts giving way to an odder procession. At its heart, a woman crowned with fiery locks commanded the crowd''s unwavering attention. Her bare form, a bold defiance of modesty, was a spectacle I observed with detached interest. A quick glance, a swift turn of the head¡ªher jubilant perch atop the shoulders of adoring men was a scene I chose not to linger on. The last wisps of smoke from my cigarette trailed behind as I set forth, determined to find our elusive target amidst the revelry. The odds of misjudgment were slim, but in this carnival of curiosities, anything was possible. The tension in the air was palpable as I forced my way through the crowd, my focus fixed on the mysterious woman ahead. The plan was a nebulous thought, still forming amidst the chaos of this dance and drums. The men surrounding her were a formidable barrier, but I harboured hope they¡¯d scatter like leaves in the wind once we broke free from the throng. They seemed more like farmers or miners perhaps, not soldiers. The music died down, the dancers stopped their rehearsed movements. No one moved. A silent command had been issued, one that I had not heard, yet everyone obeyed. All eyes were on her¡ªthe woman with the fiery mane. Her gaze locked onto me, the warmth atmosphere gone, replaced by a steely resolve of the being. ¡°We only welcome those who seek joy,¡± she conveyed, her voice a siren¡¯s call inside my mind, both alluring and chilling. I stood my ground, hand resting on my sword¡¯s hilt. ¡°This land is not yours to welcome anyone into,¡± I retorted. According to our rules, I should offer her the option of a safe exit, but somehow I wasn''t in the mood for it. And I didn''t see Damien protesting. Her reply slithered into my thoughts, ¡°Isn¡¯t this place just another playground? Hungry for laughter and screams alike¡­ Don¡¯t you crave the thrill?¡± What kind of stupid question is this? I had a job there. I wasn¡¯t supposed to have fun here, I had my duty. However dull and monotonous they may seem. And it didn''t matter that i wa''s always exactly the same. With the same ending. With blood on the blade and a glass in my hand. I wanted to have fun, and dancing and music were tempting propositions. Alcohol was flowing there and the people around looked pretty. Some of them¡­ I could easily spend a few hours there, enjoy the festivities and come back to my duties later. That''s what Damien wanted as well, to have fun. And who was going to stop me? No one would know about it. "You want the same thing," the voice in my head whispered. Do I long for the same as the people around? No. "By being here, you are breaking the rules set by Hallies'' Heirs, the protectors of the Light. Your only option is to pack up and get out. Right now." Damien emerged from the crowd. He must have heard its thoughts as clearly as I did. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. The creature dismounted from its human pedestal with a grace that belied its intentions. It faced Damien, scrutinising him with an intensity that felt almost tangible. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as though it might acquiesce. But then, its gaze shifted to me, and with it, the decision was made. A laugh, clear and mocking, rang out, shattering the silence, freezing the blood in the veins.. Swords drawn, Damien and I stood ready, though reluctance gnawed at me. This confrontation was not what we sought. The creature before us was a master of minds, and we were mere pawns in its game with two deadly weapons in hand. The crowd parted, forming an arena for the impending clash. The creature¡¯s acolytes fled¡ªone brandishing a sabre, the other unarmed. Just as I hoped. With a swift move, I disarmed the one with the sabre, sending both tumbling to the ground, stunned but alive. They would awaken with pounding headaches, a mercy for which Stephan would be grateful. The clash of broken glass rang out as I faced Damien, my heart heavy with the burden of familial ties. "You''re kidding, right?" I pleaded, hoping for a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. But the man before me was not the uncle I knew; his gaze was cold, his stance aggressive. "Stop it, Jim!" I dodged his relentless assault, the air slicing where I had just stood. "You''re supposed to protect me!" My voice broke, anger and desperation intertwining. He was relentless, uncaring. In a desperate move, I discarded my sword, seizing the sabre. If I must defend myself, let it be with a weapon less personal, less lethal. What the fuck had happened to him? The voice of the orange-haired woman echoed in my mind, taunting, "This is much more fun." She was the puppeteer, and we, her marionettes in this twisted performance. "Stop this, damn it!" I knew Damien''s every scar, I remembered every battle he had weathered. To add another record to his tapestry of wounds was unthinkable. "Damien, listen to me, you have to stop." But he was a storm, relentless and unyielding. His technique was flawless, yet predictable. I knew his patterns, his lack of improvisation. It was my only hope. "You''re leaving me no choice," I admitted, the reality bitter on my tongue. His blade, a constant threat, danced dangerously close. I dropped to the ground, targeting his legs¡ªhis one vulnerability. As he advanced, I struck, the sabre piercing the fabric of his uniform, avoiding the artery by a hair''s breadth. "Sorry," I whispered, the word becoming hollow comfort to me. His cry of pain was drowned out by that hideous laughter. I spun towards the sound, but she was a ghost, unseen. Damien, undeterred by his wound, faced me again. "Surrender, Damien. That''s an order!" I couldn''t bear to hurt him further. The voice in my head mocked, "Aren''t you having fun?" "I''ll have fun once you''re gone," I growled under my breath. Damien moved unexpectedly, his approach off-kilter. He stumbled, and I rushed to catch him, our blades lowering in unison. He pressed his sword hilt into my palm, a silent trust. "Left," he whispered, a covert cue. I grasped his intentions and what he expected of me. Time was slipping away; I couldn¡¯t afford to hesitate. With a swift motion, I redirected his sword with my right hand and shoved it back, the blade arcing through the air in a horizontal slash. Blind to my surroundings, I operated solely on the trust I had in him, following his directives without question. I feared I had missed my mark. The entity materialised only when it was too late to evade. My sword sliced through her neck effortlessly. Instinctively, I braced for a scream or a grunt, a gush of blood to follow. Instead, the figure before me collapsed, losing its shape in the process. What hit the ground was a discusting mass of flesh, devoid of skin or hair¡ªa revolting sight. I was thankful for my empty stomach. The crowd erupted into motion, panic and chaos taking hold. ¡°Andrea!¡± His voice cut through the tumult. His outstretched hand was the reason my uniform remained clean. ¡°Are you alright?¡± he asked, oblivious to his own bleeding wound. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I replied, catching him as he staggered. I returned his sword, eager to rid myself of the weapon, and assisted him to a seated position. ¡°You missed,¡± he quipped, a weak attempt at humour. I removed my glove and applied pressure to his wound, which he tried to evade like a petulant child. ¡°Shut it or I''ll stick my finger in the wound.¡± I threatened half-jokingly. ¡°If I had killed you, you¡¯d never let me forget it.¡± Not that I had any desire to end his life. But it wouldn¡¯t have been a problem for him. He had tried to kill me without a moment¡¯s hesitation. Damn it. ¡°Princess?¡± ¡°You attacked me,¡± I said, my voice cold, unable to bring myself to tend to his wounds. He allowed himself to be controlled by something that didn''t even have shape. ¡°You confronted me with your fucking sword in hand, Jim.¡± ¡°We¡¯re both still alive, so let¡¯s leave it at that,¡± he muttered, avoiding my gaze. ¡°We never have to speak of it again.¡± ¡°Vatte il an sarra?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll need to provide some explanations,¡± he acknowledged, nodding toward the approaching men. Their emblem, unfamiliar to me, featured a bird set against a black field on light blue fabric. Yet, they recognized us, and with that recognition, events accelerated. The mayor proved to be a cordial and appreciative host, albeit too lanky for my liking, his frame seemingly fragile enough to snap. Nevertheless, he was a man suited to his role. He welcomed us into his home, where over dinner, we unravelled the essentials. Our host recounted the days-long ordeal. He had attempted to intervene but was rebuffed, told that dissenters were unwelcome. Those who remained were compelled to partake in the festivities against their will. Left with no other choice, he sought help. The conversation inevitably turned to the culprit. The creature hadn¡¯t arrived uninvited; someone had summoned it. Opening a portal to another realm required not just knowledge but a significant reserve of power. Suspicion fell on a single individual capable of orchestrating such a feat through large-scale crystal smuggling¡ªa mage named Teyber. Amidst the lengthy discussion, a seemingly trivial detail caught my attention. The mayor mentioned it in passing, but to Damien and me, it was pivotal. A nearby city, as indicated by our host, lay outside the jurisdiction of our appointed governor. This small territory had slipped from our grasp unnoticed. Kuzsi, now an independent city, was no longer under our dominion. Weary and disheartened by the day¡¯s events and the harrowing final hours, I succumbed to sleep in the mayor¡¯s guest room, which bore an unsettling resemblance to the dwellings of the South. Everything was elegantly shrouded in light colours, the huge windows let in the moonlight, and the soft pillows invited me to close my eyes and let myself fall asleep in their embrace. I''d much rather lie in Steven''s arms, but if I was counting correctly, he was just having dinner, while it''s already the middle of the night here. A well known uniform ¡°No nightmares to report?¡± Damien inquired as I joined him outside the mayor¡¯s house. It was fortunate I found him; he had left a message about his departure to Kuzsi for a meeting, opting not to disturb my slumber. ¡°Nothing beyond my control,¡± I replied, attributing my sound sleep to the Azattico roots. ¡°And your leg?¡± Damien shrugged, his pace unaltered. His new uniform concealed any sign of injury, his appearance impeccable as always, adorned with that insufferable, feigned smile. ¡°Care to share how you were so easily ensnared?¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t the sole victim,¡± he retorted, a sudden edge to his voice. He may not be the only one, but he didn''t resist one bit. I thought he had a stronger will. Or more common sense. ¡°What do you want from me? An apology?¡± he halted abruptly, spinning around. ¡°I don''t know how it happened. But rest assured, you¡¯ll be the first to know once I do,¡± he snapped, his anger manifesting in the runes he etched onto the street, flouting his own doctrines and moral code. Even worse, I know he wasn¡¯t telling the truth. Damien knew damn well what happened yesterday and how. ¡°Shall we?¡± he asked, not awaiting a response before crossing to the other side. A vast hall greeted us, a gentle breeze wafting through the open glass doors. Surrounded by towering flowers, ornate tapestries, gleaming tiles, and lofty ceilings, we stood in solitude, save for the statuesque figures of men and women. ¡°What kind of shithole is this?¡± ¡°Kuzsi,¡± he replied, distancing himself and sealing the portal. My hands flew up in exasperation. I was aware of the city¡¯s name; it was the building I questioned. ¡°He should return any moment. So, if you would, silence is golden.¡± ¡°Teyber? Is he the one returning here?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the hope,¡± he muttered, checking his watch, then folding his arms as he studied a statue. The white stone woman returned his gaze with a severe, almost antagonistic expression. ¡°And we just wait?¡± I challenged. The likelihood of someone arriving seemed slim in this deserted space. Yet, he seemed certain. ¡°Hardly a sound strategy.¡± ¡°For the love of the Light, Andrea...¡± he turned away from the statue, looking at me with a mix of offence and indecision. ¡°If you have a better idea, I¡¯m all ears.¡± ¡°How could I possibly have one? I still don''t even know where-¡± I countered, only to be interrupted by the opening of a door to our left. A diminutive woman entered. She remained oblivious to our presence until she was midway across the room. Halting, she looked up, evidently expecting someone else. Her eyes widened in shock upon seeing us. Clad in our white uniforms, we must have resembled the surrounding statues, albeit with a more menacing aura. Her gaze darted to the nearest exit, surprisingly not the one she had used, but the glass doors. Before she could make her move, I intervened. With a swift motion, I restrained her hands with magical bindings, rendering her immobile and subdued. ¡°I thought you mentioned a man was on his way?¡± ¡°That was the word, and should he have fled,¡± Damien approached the woman briskly, scrutinising her. Her dark hair was secured with a clasp, her face angular with piercing eyes and a prominent mouth, her complexion pale -almost sickening. The green uniform she wore, adorned with a chain and what appeared to be a crystal, was telling. ¡°We¡¯ll find ourselves in quite the predicament.¡± With a mere gesture, he forced her to her knees, yet her smile remained intact. ¡°Perfect,¡± I muttered under my breath. The woman observed me with a curious intensity. I suspected she understood us. ¡°Where is the man you were to meet?¡± Her response was a nonchalant smile and a shrug, her arrogance suggesting she feared no repercussions. Well then. I extended my hand before me, ensuring she had a clear view. One by one, I folded my fingers into my palm, each disappearance escalating her agony. The woman¡¯s laughter ceased with the first finger, her body writhed with the second, and by the third, her screams filled the air. The fourth finger remained, but the guards burst in before its concealment, wearing dark blue uniforms adorned with a silver wolf. Damien and I locked eyes, our shared fury unspoken as we drew our swords. The mayor¡¯s words echoed in my mind, the revelation that Kuzsi lay outside his domain, suggesting a return to their absurd sovereignty. The possibility of Athran¡¯s claim over the city had never crossed my mind. Stolen story; please report. ¡°Lower your weapons, now!¡± Damien commanded with an edge. Yet, they advanced, an unified front of eight. ¡°They won¡¯t heed you,¡± the woman sneered from the ground. ¡°This land does not bow to your will.¡± She was mistaken. I loathed being lectured about my lineage by the ignorant. What the fuck did she know about us? There was just one stupid book, full of Damien''s lies and misconceptions. The guards edged closer, their swords and resolute faces signalling their intent to not yield. I knew what I must do, despite the regret that would surely follow. Releasing the gasping woman, I focused on the men. ¡°Gentlemen, would be so kind as to lay down your swords,¡± I requested, my voice steady. Influencing their minds was less taxing than other spells; I needed only to stand firm in my conviction, persuading them that disarmament was their own desire. The first sword clattered to the ground, the rest soon followed. The men recoiled, their shock evident. Whether it was the relinquishment of their weapons or the loss of their volition that stunned them more, I couldn¡¯t tell. ¡°Now, turn and exit with a bow.¡± Amidst the commotion, Damien and I failed to notice the woman¡¯s ascent. We had neglected to search for any hidden dangers she might wield with reckless abandon. In hindsight, it seemed a glaring oversight. Damien¡¯s reaction came too late. Darkness encroached upon my vision, the world around me fading. The white glove I wore drew the crimson red that flowed from the dagger¡¯s handle¡ªit was an ugly handle, destroyed by long years in the service of several pairs of hands. It looked exactly like the ones that the locals passed on from generation to generation. I never quite got that tradition. My hand, along with the dagger, vanished from sight, leaving only a growing stain on the pristine fabric. I brushed aside an approaching hand, covering the wound anew. ¡°You should have opted for a different colour,¡± I hissed through the onset of pain, seeking to replace it with a burning focus. ¡°White is terribly unforgiving¡­¡± ¡°It seemed fitting at the time,¡± Damien replied with a subdued chuckle. ¡°Will you manage?¡± ¡°As always,¡± I managed to say, though laughter eluded me. Pain and warmth converged, an odd yet comforting amalgamation. ¡°Just give me a moment.¡± Damien rose, granting me space to collect myself. I scarcely registered how I had come to be on the ground¡ªwhether aided by him or succumbed to gravity was irrelevant. The events that transpired were a blur¡­ I could hear Damien issuing commands in Athran, a language not native to these parts. Reinforcements must have arrived, likely those overseeing the disarmed guards. He was embroiled in a dispute over jurisdiction and the implications of lethal force. But the pressing question lingered¡ªwho had he slain? Drawing a deep breath, I raised my head. The tiles bore witness to the conflict, stained with blood that matched my gloves. Damien had dealt the final blow, he killed the woman. At least that was one less burden for me. I stood, the pain lingering but not hindering. It didn¡¯t stop me from joining Damien, equalising the power dynamic against the two men before us. ¡°They claim allegiance to the wolf, their uniforms and banners bear its image¡­ The governor even has a ring¡­¡± Damien¡¯s frustration was palpable as he ran a hand through his hair. ¡°They¡¯ve violated our agreement, and it¡¯s clear they don¡¯t adhere to the same laws as the North, much less ours.¡± ¡°How did you deduce that?¡± ¡°He mentioned she was part of the city administration,¡± Damien replied, retrieving an object from his pocket and presenting it to me. ¡°You must have seen it around her neck. Only this idiot denied it, committing another crime.¡± I examined the glowing crystal he handed me, noticing his gloves were also stained, possibly with my blood. The liquid within the crystal shimmered lazily, its radiance hinting at the power it contained¡ªa power wrongfully seized, stirring a fury within me. ¡°The barmaid had one yesterday too. Jim, what the fuck is going on here? Since when does Athran claim anything that belongs to us?¡± ¡°I wish I knew, Princess. The one who could¡¯ve enlightened us has likely fled,¡± he murmured, distancing himself from the two jesters. Our purpose here had almost slipped my mind. ¡°He can¡¯t have vanished without leaving a trace. And if I¡¯m not mistaken, tracking down those who flee from us is your specialty. Go on, dear uncle,¡± I glanced back at the two men. ¡°I''ll find out how Athran''s involved,¡± I gritted out. ¡°Jonathan''s pet must have a hand in it.¡± ¡°Don''t be so sure. Steven has been dealing with his paperwork for a while.¡± I was certain of his involvement. ¡°His ambition might exceed his father¡¯s,¡± I returned the glowing artefact, its presence nauseating. ¡°I¡¯ll see you in Parlasse,¡± I said, removing my bloodied gloves. ¡°I was hoping for Lemford.¡± ¡°Do you have contracts on Lemford?¡± I asked, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. I¡¯d prefer to bypass it altogether, perhaps drown the day¡¯s events in drink. ¡°We need to discuss this with father,¡± I said, and he gave me a grimace before vanishing. Take a guess ¡°You can¡¯t do this!¡± one of the men protested. ¡°You¡¯ll answer for your actions.¡± ¡°I have no such plans,¡± I retorted, discarding the gloves completely. I had no intention of returning with them; it had become something of a tradition. ¡°You seem to misunderstand whom you¡¯re dealing with.¡± Instead of a formal introduction, I summoned a golden lion¡¯s head, its roar echoing through the room, commanding silence. ¡°The Hale family holds sway over all, your so-called independent city is a farce¡­ you¡¯re flouting the very rules established by the Heirs.¡± ¡°We don''t follow your family''s rules,¡± the governor countered, though his conviction wavered. ¡°We don¡¯t offer a choice in the matter,¡± I replied, my gaze shifting to my blood-soaked uniform. I couldn¡¯t very well lecture them looking like a vagrant. With a flicker of illusion, I concealed the stains and met the governor¡¯s eyes once more. ¡°Nevertheless, I''m going to need to see a contract that validates your words,¡± I motioned for them to lead me to an office. They guided me through a series of corridors, the building¡¯s stark white simplicity created a beautiful contrast to the complexity of our situation. Behind the desk in the spacious office hung a royal flag adorned with a wolf¡¯s head, as one might expect in Athran. Yet this was not Athran, and until this moment, I had been under the impression that the country hadn¡¯t expanded its provinces beyond our agreements. Kuzsi, a city nestled among rolling hills, boasts a population in the tens of thousands. It served as the administrative heart for the surrounding hamlets and townships. The region was a tapestry of fertile lands, rich in mineral veins that crisscross its subterranean layers. Yet, the true heartbeat of Kuzsi was commerce; situated at a strategic nexus of trade routes, the city thrives on the lucrative flow of goods. When the sovereign''s gaze wandered, the profits swelled even further, as if the city itself conspired to seize opportunity. The governor, a man caught in a web of his own making, frantically sifted through parchments, seeking a clause that might spare him from the executioner''s blade. Meanwhile, his confidant, a master of manipulation, deftly planted seeds of thought in the governor''s mind, speaking in the fluid tongue of Athran. Unbeknownst to him, I was privy to their language¡ªa fact they mistakenly believe I was ignorant of. Damien, my loyal interpreter, relayed their scheming in Imperial, right under their oblivious noses. For now, I bid my time, absorbing their deceit while my eyes fixated on the grand flag that billows above us¡ªa symbol I yearned to rip from its mast. Alceste, the Athranian, was adamant that the contracts remain hidden from my view, urging instead to summon one dubbed ''the Occupant''¡ªa figure I suspected Damien had been tirelessly hunting. Gaby, the other conspirator, was equally engrossed in his search through the archives, his hands dancing over countless documents with fervent desperation. After what seems an eternity, Gaby''s quest culminated in triumph as he retrieved a tome bound in black, adorned with the emblem of a wolf. With a flourish of self-satisfaction, he presented the document to me. I demanded a walkthrough of the contract, and Gaby, ever the adept translator, obliged. The text proclaimed Athran''s dominion over these lands, a detail conveniently omitted by the Steeles. Gaby insisted that Jonathan''s pact has lapsed, and the wolf extends an offer of sovereignty and unfettered trade. Yet, I couldn''t shake the feeling that this document would be better served as ammunition against Edgar. His history of encroachment was well-documented, though I doubt even he would be so brazen. The page''s end revealed an elegant signature¡ªhis son''s. For his own sake, I pray this was all a grave misunderstanding. "What does independence and free trade signify to you?" I inquired, my patience wearing thin amidst the chaos. "Does your definition encompass illicit dealings? For what is outlawed in Athran surely holds no sway here, according to your precious contract." A silent exchange of terror passed between Alceste and Gaby. The Athranian''s advice to remain silent was sound, yet Gaby''s response reeks of deceit. He clinged to his lie with such conviction that it unsettled me. "Identify the mage among you," I commanded, though part of me dreaded the confirmation of my suspicions. Gaby recoiled, while Alceste muttered a half-hearted incantation. His spell was cut short as my protective shield springed to life, halting their actions. Their lies alone warranted a death sentence. Alceste brandished a crystal, a feeble display of power. "Contrary to popular belief, there is enough magic in every person to be comfortably killed by another mage. So this," I declared, seizing the crystal and casting it aside. "This trinket is worthless." "I reclaimed what is rightfully mine," Alceste growled, his voice stripped of the Athranian silkiness, now raw with fury. "How? Where?" I pressed, demanding clarity in the midst of the brewing storm. My fury simmered beneath a veneer of control, a tempest of wrath veiled by a calm exterior. "Take a guess," Alceste challenged, his gaze averted, a silent testament to defiance. It was a familiar dance of wills, one where the obstinate crumble, their resolve disintegrating like fragile card houses. I pause like a predator assessing its prey, gauging the true extent of Alceste''s power¡ªor the lack thereof. His eyes, one darker than the other, darted away, seeking refuge from my piercing scrutiny. A singular query echoed within the recesses of his mind, I wanted to see what he was really afraid of. Not the superficial terrors that haunted the weak, but a primal fear, entrenched and raw. Pain held no sway over him; it was a futile avenue to explore. Yet, in a fleeting moment, I glimpsed the kernel of his terror¡ªthe key I''ve been seeking. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Withdrawing from Alceste''s mind, I summoned my dagger into existence, its blade materialising from the ether. A slow, deliberate stride carried me towards Gaby, a ghost of a smile playing upon my lips. I had misconstrued their dynamic, mistaking control for love. "You''ve little left to lose," I mused aloud, addressing Alceste. "But what of poor Gaby?" The intensity of Alceste''s stare was hypnotic. His facade was impeccable, yet beneath it lay another layer of deceit. "Let me elucidate the rules," I continued. "I pose a question, you respond. Each truth you utter spares him; every falsehood... Well, let''s just say it''ll get under his skin. Do you understand?" Alceste''s composure didn''t waver; he was adept at this game. I''d wager his past is steeped in law enforcement or military service, his role extending beyond mere protection for Gaby. Without a moment''s hesitation, I impaled Gaby''s hand and the accursed contract to the tabletop with my dagger. His scream pierced the air, Alceste uttered a curse. "Silence equates to a lie," I added. "So, who bestowed the crystal upon you?" He lacked the aura of one who could strip power from another; he must have acquired it elsewhere. "It was not given," Alceste eventually admitted, his words ringing with reluctant truth. "Did you purchase it?" A nod from Alceste. "From whom? Name or description." Silence was Alceste''s chosen response. I afford him a moment of contemplation before wrenching the dagger free, liberating Gaby''s hand and the document. "I don''t know his name,; I''ve never laid eyes upon him," Alceste conceded. "I presume you wish to preserve Gaby''s fingers, yet your fabrications are wearisome," I stated, flexing my fingers, the joints popping with the motion. Alceste had alluded to something earlier¡ªa point I must revisit. "I wonder if you''ve shared with your partner what it''s like to lose your own power. Words cannot describe the pain that makes you just an ordinary person." His complexion drained of colour; my words struck a nerve. Turning my attention to Gaby, I elaborate on the unique suffering that awaited. "A punctured hand pales in comparison to the internal rendering, the systematic destruction of self, cell by cell. It''s an existential unravelling, leaving one paralyzed by fear and agony," I leaned in, Gaby''s eyes wide with terror. "And should you survive, the haunting persists, an eternal spectre of pain. Even now, as he wields borrowed magic, the ache lingers. Every single time he did something a little magical for you, part of him died." Gaby muttered incoherently, Alceste¡¯s silence speaking volumes. "I''d be more than willing to demonstrate, for you to truly comprehend.¡± "He had a mask!" shouted Alceste behind me. ¡°I didn''t see him!¡± Alceste''s protestations echoed through the chamber, a desperate attempt to disavow knowledge of the masked figure. I believe you didn''t see him at the handover," I conceded, tracing the first rune in the air before Gaby''s tear-brimmed eyes, oblivious to the symbol''s significance. "Yet, ignorance of sight does not equate to ignorance of association." The second rune ignites with arcane energy. "Shealon," Alceste blurted out, the name torn from his lips in a plea of desperation. I inscribed another rune, indifferent to his protestations. "He operates beyond the city''s reach, seeking mages¡ªand sometimes others¡ªwho will not be missed." The pieces begin to fall into place, yet the runes remain, their glow a testament to my scepticism. "He''s of my height, with short hair," Alceste continues, his description painting the image of an unremarkable man. "You''ve described a multitude," I retorted, unimpressed. "Please, I''ll divulge all I know." The admission I sought finally arrived. "Where is he?" I pressed. "He frequents here every forty-four days, at an establishment across from the main gate. He was here just a couple days ago. I''ve never interacted with another," Alceste revealed, a note of resignation in his voice. "I had hoped for more," I lamented, turning back to Alceste, my fingers brushing against his coarse cheek. His physical description of Shealon holds little value, but his memories might yield the clues I need. To my astonishment, Alceste''s mental image of Shealon was strikingly vivid. An ordinary man, indistinguishable from the masses, with short hair, an average build, dark eyes, in a black shirt and hooded jacket¡ªa figure designed to be forgotten. This revelation proved invaluable. Delving deeper, I uncovered another crucial detail. Their rendezvous took place in a lavish venue, its private lounges more conspicuous than covert. It was Alceste who sought out Shealon, not the reverse. Someone within that establishment must¡¯ve recognized him. "Is there anything else you wish to confess?" I inquired, peering into his heterochromatic eyes. "I just want it to end,," he whispered, a soft surrender in his voice. For a fleeting moment, I sensed his resignation to fate, an acceptance of the inevitable for both him and Gaby. But as his eyes reopened, that resignation vanished. "Hold fast to the Light as you traverse the Darkness," I whispered. The dagger leapt from the table to my grasp, its blade found Alceste''s heart with a swift, merciful thrust. He met his end with a stoic bravery, unlike Gaby, who erupted into screams and curses. Alceste''s body collapsed, and the blood flowed freely from the blade, pooling on the floor beside him. I returned to the governor, his pleas for life echoing in the blood-stained hall. "I don''t want to die... please," he whimpered, showing indifference towards the life just extinguished. "He was the mastermind," he lied once more, his loyalty to Alceste as flimsy as his resolve. "Who will succeed you?" I inquired, smearing the blood on the sleeve of my tattered uniform. Gaby''s demeanour shifted; the begging ceased, replaced by a semblance of calm. "Amer, but why¡ª" His question was cut short, the blade''s swift entry silencing him forever. "Because governance abhors a vacuum," I murmured, watching his body slump to the first. They could lie there indefinitely, for all I cared. Clutching the bloodied contract and the crystal, I vanished from the scene. The thought of lingering was unbearable. The journey had halved my patience, and Damien''s presence only exacerbated it. Our eastern edicts were disregarded, Mergo partially lost, and Steven unwittingly entangled in this mess. A perfect storm of chaos¡ªfucking perfect. I hated the trips. The contract "Anie!" Jonathan''s concern was visible as he rushed towards me, his eyes piercing through the illusion that had fooled the townsfolk. It was nice to see that even after all these years, the sight of a little blood on my clothes still scares him. "I''m fine," I reassured him, brushing off his worry as I discarded the contract on the table and shed my coat. "Damien!" Jonathan''s voice rose in alarm, turning to his brother who had silently waited. Time had slipped away from me in Kuzsi, or perhaps Damien had abandoned his search prematurely. "Is this your idea of protection? What''s wrong with you!?" "Relax, it''s just another uniform for the pile," Damien retorted from across the room, his distance from Jonathan as vast as the mansion''s walls allowed. "And most of that blood isn''t even mine," I added, an attempt to alleviate his concern. "And that''s supposed to make me feel better, why, exactly?" Jonathan''s frustration was evident as he examined the contract. "What in the name of Light is this?" "It¡¯s a contract," I observed, watching him thumb through the crimson pages with revulsion. "Or rather, it used to be." I revealed the crystal briefly before securing it once more. Jonathan''s frown deepened with worry. "I guess they have a second copy in Athran. I''ll be happy to bring it to you," I offered, though the prospect was less than appealing. "In the same condition?" Jonathan echoed my sentiment, discarding the contract. "Athran took Kuzsi from us. Did you have any knowledge of this?" Damien pressed. "All I know is their disdain for our new terms. Athran wasn''t mentioned. And if one of the Steeles¡¯ signed this with full awareness..." He trailed off, his gaze returning to the table, heavy with implication. "Steven''s signed it," I confirmed, cutting through Jonathan''s hesitation. "And he''s not one to ink his name without understanding the full weight of his commitment," I hinted, leaving the question hanging in the air. Damien''s laughter was tinged with disbelief. "He''s still just a little puppy.. How could he grasp the gravity of his actions in Mergo? I bet he''s never been there." "Your confidence is touching, Jim," I retorted. Despite his youth, Steven had always displayed a level of discernment beyond his years. "You need to talk to him, Anie," Jon insisted. "And what will she say to him, Jonathan? Sorry, love, you can''t toy with my territories''? Absurd... We''ll reclaim Kuzsi and fortify Mergo. The East has been ours; it shall remain so," Damien declared with fervour. "Steven, like any Steeles, is entitled to amend those contracts. Mergo Hensya is a collective of sovereign trade towns. They never belonged to us; they pledged allegiance," Jonathan countered with a note of superiority. "The issue at hand is the enforcement of our family''s edicts, which he neglected to report. This illicit trade must cease, contract or no. That is our duty. My concern is the repercussions for Steven if¡ª" This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. "Jonathan, please..." Damien interjected. "You fail to grasp the breadth of our work and its ramifications." "Do we have to go through this every time?" I asked, approaching Damien. I silenced him with the revelations I had uncovered, then relayed them to Jonathan. "One of you must inform Stephan of our findings, while the other secures a watchful eye over Mergo until order is restored." "I prefer the journey east over seeing Steph," Damien conceded, nodding farewell before departing. "I presumed you''d be the one to go," I remarked, eyebrow arched in amusement. Damien''s aversion to travel would be uncharacteristic; I had expected him to relay the news and head to Lemford though. "Have I missed something?" "Why are you asking me? He doesn''t confide in me," Jonathan replied, visibly annoyed by his brother''s silence. "You both lack a shred of common sense. You solve everything with a fight. It''s like I have two irresponsible kids, not just one," he chided, adjusting his immaculate suit. "Do change out of those clothes before meeting Steven. You''re a sight for sore eyes." "We both know I''m dashing, as always," I countered, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the carafe. I took a sip from my glass, the bloodstain on my attire the only blemish. "And he doesn''t care anyway. All I have to do is loosen my hair and smile." "Isn''t your self-assurance misplaced, given your display in Mergo? Why bother with rules if you flout them?" Jonathan''s reproach morphed into disapproval. "You disregard commands, endangering bystanders¡­¡± "I didn''t endanger anyone, I just stabbed Jim." "So the blood on the contract is Damien''s?" The tension in the room was palpable, a thick fog of unspoken words and veiled concerns. "Well, no¡­ but by the time I stabbed Gaby he wasn''t a bystander," I clarified, brushing off the implication of recklessness. " "You don''t usually act like that, what''s going on?¡± "You''re right; I usually don''t. But Athran''s interference, led by my own partner, is an unprecedented complication," I confessed, my hands thrown up in a gesture of exasperation, sending droplets of liquid hurtling towards the immaculate floor. Jon, ever the guardian of his domain, dissipated them with a mere flick of his wrist, preserving the illusion of perfection that shrouded everything he touched. "That doesn''t answer my question," he retorted, arms crossed, the embodiment of patience. Perhaps Damien has shared what he knew about my dreams, or perhaps Jon simply knew me too well. After all, he was my father, yet his demeanour only served to fuel my ire. "That''s the only answer I have to offer," I replied curtly, swapping the glass for the folder and grasping my coat¡ªa ruined garment, to be precise¡ªas I made for the door. "Andrea," his voice, stern and commanding, halted my departure. The silence that followed compelled me to face him. "I will speak with Stephan and clarify the situation. I understand your anger, but please, try to stay calm when you confront Steven." "Are you afraid I''ll ruin our family''s reputation?" I questioned, acutely aware of my current state, akin to that of a common criminal. The blood must be cleansed from my being. "I fear you''ll utter words that will haunt you later," he cautioned, his concern genuine, though his advice feels futile. "The same caution applies to you. Stephan will remain indifferent to the cities'' autonomy," I countered. The likelihood of a clash between the two was significant, especially since Jonathan overseed all contracts, and this one eluded him¡ªa rarity. Something else must¡¯ve been amiss. "Unlike you, I have no problem admitting my mistake and apologising." I have a feeling... The cleansing ritual took longer than usual, the crimson evidence stubborn against my alabaster skin. My temper simmered, hotter than the cascading water, as I prepared for the inevitable confrontation. I adorned myself with care: hair meticulously styled, eyes outlined in the darkest kohl, lips painted a vivid crimson¡ªa reminder of the day''s earlier violence. I stood before my wardrobe, my disdain for the uniform and the innocence of white now palpable. Half my closet lay discarded, dresses included¡ªrejected for their association with his preferences. Red, too, was forsaken; if recognition in Athran required such a crutch, I should let Stephan reclaim our sovereignty and etch our visages into memory. I settled on black, the colour of my mood, and teal, the essence of the South¡ªmy attire a silent testament to my resolve. Navigating the castle''s stony labyrinth, flanked by guards as if I were the intruder, stoked the flames of my indignation. I knew these halls better than their new master, having wandered them before Edgar''s banners claimed them as his own. At the chamber''s threshold, I dismissed the guards'' formalities with a gesture, the door yielding to my will. Inside, the austere grey stone was softened by sunlight, the mountain view muted but still majestic. The room''s warmth did little to thaw my cool reception. Steven, propped casually against the table, was in the company of a young woman in yellow, her dress adorned with black leather Athran''s frivolous buckles. Their proximity irked me, their laughter even more so. "An! You''re back early," Steven greeted, making no move to distance himself from his companion. Her beauty was undeniable, yet it seemed her sole attribute, much like her father¡ªever-present yet contributing little of substance. ¡°this is-¡± "Pelletier''s daughter, Lady Jossellin," I interjected, sparing Steven the formality of introductions. Her deference was fleeting, her attention quickly returning to him, though his focus had shifted. "Do you know my father well?" she inquired, her voice echoing her father''s sycophantic tones. "Not in the least," I replied, my gaze drifting from her naivety to meet Steven''s eyes. "I''ve often pondered how he retained his title and lands after pledging fealty to the Nobles. We adhere to stricter standards in the South," I mused, my words laced with implication. In their youth and idealism, Steven and Jossellin were akin¡ªboth untouched by the cynicism that time had woven into my own perspective. "Now, it all begins to make sense." "Are you trying to imply something?" he asked, a frosty edge to his tone, green eyes piercing me. "Obviously," I smirked, throwing the blood-stitched documents on the table. "We need to talk, ideally alone.¡± He glanced at the folder, its wolf emblem stained red, but it was my gaze he met again, not the papers. Jossellin, rather than recoiling from the macabre sight, drew closer to Steven. "Jossy, we''ll talk later," he said, turning his back on her, a clear dismissal. She left without another word. The door clicked shut, and Steven''s attention never wavered from me. The treaty lay forgotten; he waited for my explanation. "I have a feeling your trip didn''t go as planned," he ventured with a half-smile. "I have a feeling," I echoed his words, my voice devoid of warmth, "that you neglected to mention Kuzsi''s new allegiance to Athran." His defence was immediate, even as he attempted to separate the blood-soaked pages. "Is that why you''re angry? Because I offered them a better contract?" He paused, looking at his hands, now smeared with blood. "I hope this isn''t the blood of one of my people." "It''s your governor''s blood," I said flatly, more annoyed by the time it took to cleanse myself than the act itself. "Did you kill him?" Steven''s question was childlike, seeking confirmation of what he already suspected. "And what would you say if I did?" I shot back, not giving him the chance to answer. "Did you even read the contract? Do you understand what your ''benevolent terms'' permit? They chose Athran because now, they can do anything." "They''re bound by the same laws," he insisted, but his defence was weak. "The same laws?" I scoffed. "You have no idea what goes on there. Have you ever visited? Send someone trustworthy to observe?" His frown deepened, but he remained silent. "They''re flouting the supreme law, rejecting the Heirs and the Light. They wear crystals filled with stolen power as if they''re trinkets, damnit!" "Mergo has always been a synonym for the black market. If your family''s influence is waning, that''s not my concern," he retorted. "You don''t understand. This is your responsibility. Athran, your province, is supposed to submit to the Light," I argued, stepping back to create distance. "You signed it. Swore on it, when you took the crown. Everything that happens there reflects on you." He seemed oblivious to the gravity of the situation. I pulled out a crystal filled with glowing liquid and tossed it onto the table. "Is this yours?" he asked, picking it up with caution. "No, that''s not my fucking crystal," I corrected him as he examined the object with a mix of curiosity and concern. "Damien has its twin. It''s a disaster. Utilising crystals for power is one thing, but adorning oneself with them? That''s a perversion of their purpose. It''s a big fuck you to all the mages or it would be, if one of them parted this practise and report-" He seemed lost in the dance of light within the crystal, deaf to my words. "Steven?" I called, trying to recapture his attention. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Realising he was entranced, I reached out and gently extracted the crystal from his hands, concealing it swiftly. "I apologise for not warning you, I should''ve realised you don''t interact with these on a daily basis. Do you grasp the severity of this? Stephan will demand accountability." Steven''s expression shifted from fascination to worry. "I need to speak with him." "He won''t discuss it with you, he¡ª" "He can''t make baseless accusations," Steven interjected, stepping closer as I retreated. "An," I shook my head, distancing myself. "He won''t accuse without evidence, but¡ª" "Why should he interfere? Who does he think he is?" Steven cut me off again, his impatience igniting my temper. "Please, stop interrupting," I requested, stepping back once more. "Stephan leads our family, and by extension, all of this," I gestured around us. "I hold his word above all others. It''s the law for both of us. Despite your title, Athran owes a debt to the Heirs, and you''re bound by the same rules as I am." "I really don''t understand where you''re going with this." "Steven, extracting even a fraction of someone''s power is taboo for many reasons, with agony being just one," I said, pausing with the weight of the subject. "You''ve breached our agreement. The contract you signed goes against Athran''s vow. You''re obliged to ensure the east''s compliance with the law. Stephan will act on evidence, and it''s my duty to find it. If you''ve endorsed the transgressions in Kuzsi, even unknowingly, I can''t shield you." "I don''t need your protection," he retorted, anger flaring. "You do, more than you know. You''re unaware of the implications of a Meeting for you." "If you think I''d condone any of this, then no further proof is needed," he said, disappointment clouding his eyes. "Your testimony alone will suffice for the First or any other Heir." I pondered his words. I believed he grasped why power removal was forbidden and that he might have unwittingly signed a dangerous contract. I even thought he might defend his actions to Stephan with earnest arguments. But one question lingered unanswered. "Why didn''t Ed warn you?" "He did, but he wanted me to sign it." My query seemed to unsettle him. "Why would he want such a thing? He''s never risked such contracts himself," I mused aloud. "I need your version of the contract. This one''s been rendered useless." Steven''s gaze returned to the ruined documents, their pages fused together, concealing a void. "I''ll need a new governor," he stated, his eyes ablaze with fury. "Was it necessary to kill him?" "You''re missing the point¡ªthey both violated our laws." "Both of them?" he asked, shocked. "How many of my people have you killed?" "The intended governor and his associate. And Jim... he took a councillor''s life after she stabbed me, I didn''t catch the na-.¡± "Are you injured?" he inquired, his proximity suddenly closing in. His eyes scanned me, searching for any sign of harm, though I stood unscathed before him. "Do I look injured?" I retorted with a sneer. "She attacked me hours ago," I added, as if that should give him a hint. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "I''ll need a new uniform, that''s all. And your guards? They''re unharmed. They surrendered without resistance." "So you judge guilt based on submission?" he sighed disdainfully. "What exactly transpired, Anie?" For once, his question rendered me speechless. How to articulate the complexities of duty he should already comprehend? "My duty is to shield the innocent," I explained with measured words. "It wasn''t a whimsical decision. I adhere to our family''s established codes. Some offences can be pardoned; others demand a singular retribution. Those two not only deceived me but also lied about this." My gaze bore into his, a mix of anger and resolve. "I won''t let you become entangled in this. Just hand over the contract." "You have no authority over my actions." "On the contrary, I do. Everyone in Zessa, Athran, and beyond falls under our jurisdiction. Remember?" I vented, my frustration evident. "Belief in our family or the Light is irrelevant. Their will is ours to command, should we choose." "You cannot strip someone of their free will," he argued, his voice steady against my rising ire. "It''s just a tale." "It''s reality, Steven," I countered, the impulse to argue surging within me. If not for the need of the contract, I might have abandoned this futile exchange. He fails to grasp the truth. To him, I''m but a fortunate heiress, wielding power as if it were a plaything. "You''re wrong. Look at me," I urged, allowing him another moment to study my face. "There''s an allure you can''t quite place, isn''t there? An inner voice compelling you to heed. You felt it with my father, with Damien." His silence and defiant stare spoke volumes. He refused to acknowledge the truth¡ªthat his feelings for me were intertwined with an innate reverence he couldn''t shake. The same feelings I had, looking into those green eyes. "That voice is inescapable. With Immortality, we wield control over anyone. It becomes a part of us." "Give me an order, then! Let''s conclude this debate!" he exclaimed, his patience worn thin. Why didn''t I? I possessed the power to bend his will, to make him accept my words as truth. I turned to the window, seeking solace in the tranquil view of the snow-capped mountains. The snowflakes lay side by side, soon to meld into a single entity, yet undisturbed by their fate. They remain, glittering companions in the stillness, awaiting their destiny. "Why don''t you do it?" he asked again, his presence eclipsing the scenic view beyond. "I can''t, and more importantly, I don''t want to," I replied, meeting his gaze. His expression softened. "Because if I did, I''d lose your trust." "You''re right," he conceded, a smile breaking through. His fingers brushed my cheek, tugging gently at a loose strand of hair. "I''d like to believe that my love for you is my own choice, not something compelled." "Doesn''t it frighten you, the thought that I could wield such control over you?" "Not in the slightest. I know you won''t," he said with certainty. His unwavering trust caught me off guard, prompting an eye roll and a reluctant embrace. "Just hand over the contract, so I can resolve this mess, Atwell." "And have you vanished once more with my compliance? Leaving me alone and clueless, I think not," he retorted playfully. "Must you always negotiate?" I sighed, though his smile was infectious. "What''s your counteroffer, Your Majesty?"