2024-06-06 21:49:34
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Chapter 123: Things Worse Than Obedience
Night settled softly over the Aerindel estate, draping its towers and courtyards in a wash of silver light. The palace was asleep. The Duke’s wing too, mostly. Except for one room. The air inside it was thick — herbs, oil, and the faint sting of smoke that had nowhere to go. Shelves crowded with jars. Old things in old bottles. Some of those oils were worth more than gold; he treated them like sacred trust. A wooden altar sat in the middle, plain and worn. Unlit candles surrounded it. A cushion, gong and beater sat at the base of the altar. With an ornate mirror at the head of the altar, inscribed with fading illegible scripts, reflecting his tired visage. Alaric knelt before the altar, the cushion pressing against his knees, and began grinding herbs in a small dish. The sharp scent filled the air. From the shelf, he chose a vial of royal-blue oil — Regality, the name etched into the glass — and dipped his ceremonial knife into it. His voice was steady when he began the chant. T
Chapter 122: Orders and Pursuits
The morning air was cool and thin, carrying the sharp scent of pine and frost. Magnus stood where the faint traces of a campfire still lingered—ashes smudged across the earth, footprints pressed deep into the dirt. “They left an hour ago,” he said after a brief pause. His hand lowered from the air, a ripple of faint blue light fading from his eyes. The magic of his Discerning Mage profession died down as he completed the reading. Brythan crouched nearby, brushing his fingers along the edge of a boot print. A faint, silver aura shimmered around him—wild, unsteady, but powerful. The air around him felt heavier than before. “An hour,” he repeated, straightening with a grin. “Good. We can still catch them.” Magnus gave a small nod, though his gaze remained on the trail. Around him, the rest of the group waited quietly—Xara leaning against her spear, Merisa sitting on a fallen log adjusting the straps of her armor, Renard scanning the tree line with mild impatience, and Raeve crouched
Chapter 121: Camp
The night was quiet except for the soft crackle of the campfire. Smoke drifted lazily into the air, carrying the smell of roasted meat and wet grass. Talon sat close to the flames, his back hunched, eyes fixed on the fire as if it held the answers to his thoughts. The Lupin Mountain Range loomed around them, tall and dark, its cliffs swallowing what little moonlight slipped through the clouds. They had been on the move for three days straight. Apart from brief stops to camp, Talon hadn’t slowed down once. Veyra had followed silently, sensing his mood and deciding not to poke at it. He hadn’t spoken since they left Bluefeather Duchy. Not when they crossed into the mountain range. Barely when they felt the dangerous presence ahead. He just kept walking, expression stiff and distant. Now, that oppressive aura had faded to a faint pulse, like the heartbeat of something enormous sleeping deep within the mountains. It didn’t make her feel safer, but at least the night wasn’t trembling w
Chapter 120: The Fort Under Shadow
The demons drew closer, a living tide of claws and wings, when a figure stepped out in front of the horde.At first glance, he looked almost human — tall, lean, his posture unhurried — but even from kilometers away, the soldiers on the fort’s walls could see the wrongness in him. His fingers ended in long, black claws, and his eyes glowed faintly red like embers hiding in ash.He raised one clawed hand.Another guard on watch, still gripping his telescope, froze as the demon’s arm slashed downward. There was no sound at first, just a blur that tore through the air like the wake of a scythe. The pressure alone made the wind around the fort’s wall twist violently.“—That’s an attack! Incoming!” the guard shouted, voice cracking. His trembling hand fumbled for the horn. Almost instantly, a presence crashed down from the main keep like a hammer.A heavy gust swept through the fort’s walls as a man landed beside the terrified guard,
Chapter 119: The Savage Highlands Stir
The journey from Bluefeather Duchy to the Lupin Mountain Range took three long days. Talon didn’t rest except when night forced him to. Even then, he slept lightly, like a blade kept half-drawn. Veyra followed a few paces behind him most of the way, keeping silent. She could tell — he wasn’t just angry. He was barely holding himself together. The few times they stopped to camp, he said nothing. He cooked, ate, and packed up again with mechanical precision. His eyes didn’t rest on the horizon or the stars; they only looked forward. The air around him felt heavier with each passing day, and Veyra didn’t need her bloodline senses to feel it. He was a volcano walking in silence. When they reached the outer ridges of the Lupin Mountains, the wind grew colder. The trees here were tall and thin, and the fog clung to the ground like smoke after a battle. Veyra paused, eyes narrowing. Her instincts screamed danger. Something in the mountain’s depths felt wrong — not an ordinary monster, bu
Chapter 118: The Whirlwind Summons
The scent of sweet tea and garden roses filled the air in the Duke’s courtyard. Musicians strummed soft strings in the background while laughter and polite chatter drifted from the tables. Magnus sat at the center of it all, shoulders straight, smile fixed, eyes dull. He wasn’t sure which he hated more — the syrupy tone of noble small talk or the fact that his mother had set him up for it. The Duchess, in all her enthusiasm, had decided today was perfect for “introductions.” Which really meant: parade your son before eligible daughters. Across the long table sat a line of young women dressed in spring colors, each sneaking glances at Magnus between bites of pastry. A few giggled. A few whispered. Magnus wanted to disappear. He gave polite nods, exchanged a few rehearsed pleasantries, and pretended to listen as Lady Mirielle explained her love for harp lessons. His fingers twitched beneath the table, already counting seconds. He needed an excuse. Any excuse. And then it came. A f
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