Chapter-56 Wisper In The Veil
The Velvet Veil felt different once the night settled.
The soft hum of conversation had faded, leaving only the distant crackle of the hearth and the occasional shuffle of footsteps from the few remaining patrons. Beyond the heavy velvet curtains, the world felt still, as if the entire building existed in its own pocket of reality.
Frederique stood near the bar, her back to the polished wood, hands resting lightly at her sides. The warm candlelight caught the edges of her face, casting soft shadows that danced with the flicker of flame. She wasn't tense... but there was a sharpness in the way she held herself now.
Alert.
Controlled.
Solas had left when the sun dipped behind the horizon, vanishing with the same grace he'd arrived. No farewell. No instructions. Just... gone.
She hadn't questioned it.
Instead, she practiced.
The smile.
It started small. The first time, a patron had stumbled too close, clearly drunk, his intentions barely veiled under a mask of polite curiosity.
She'd met his gaze.
Held it.
A tilt of her head.
The corner of her lips curling, just enough to reveal a flash of sharpness... nothing exaggerated, nothing monstrous.
The man had gone pale, muttering some excuse before retreating. She hadn't moved an inch.
' It worked.'
Again.
Again.
Not a mask.
Not a threat.
Just... a warning.
And the pests had scattered like flies from a candle's flame.
But boredom crept in as the hours dragged. The bar emptied further, leaving only the soft murmurs of the remaining fey patrons, their conversations too hushed to catch. The silence pressed heavier.
She exhaled slowly, gaze drifting toward the shadows along the far end of the room.
This place breathes.
It had a pulse.
A presence.
Without thinking, Frederique drew her hands together, focusing the way Frideria had shown her. She called to her magic... not hunger, Frideria's Primal Art.
A gentle ripple stirred around her fingertips, invisible but tangible.
' Willow Whisper.'
The first object she touched was the silver candleholder atop the nearest table. A faint pulse of cool magic surged, and the whisper bloomed, soft and musical in her mind.
" Warm. I burn... I see... I hear..."
The voice was light, airy, almost childlike.
Frederique blinked, smiling faintly.
" What do you hear? "
"Laughter. Secrets. Shadows moving when they shouldn't... but they always stay here. They stay... quiet."
Frederique let go, the voice fading back into the silence. She moved next to a heavy oak chair, brushing her fingertips along the carved armrest.
The voice this time was deeper.
Ancient.
" I remember weight. So many souls resting. They talk too much. They touch too often. But you... you listen."
She withdrew.
For the next hour, she wandered, speaking to the forgotten things of the Veil. The door, who whispered of those who came and went. The wine glass that carried the memory of bitter arguments. Even the heavy drapes seemed to hum with something deeper, a lingering presence of the court they shielded.
It was soothing, in a way.
Until Frideria stirred again.
"You're wasting it."
Frederique blinked, straightening from where she'd been tracing the edge of a wooden pillar.
"You hear them. So use them."
' Use them? '
"The whispers. The knowledge. It can make them... break. Imagine how loud a voice can become if it wants to be heard."
Frederique pressed her lips into a thin line. Not tonight.
The night ended uneventfully.
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The next day passed in much the same way.
Frederique kept to herself. Selora watched her from a distance, offering only the occasional nod of approval when she practiced her presence around the bar's quieter patrons.
When Solas returned... appearing at sunset just as mysteriously as he had vanished... he said nothing of his absence.
And again, the smile proved its worth.
There were no pests today. Only silence.
Frederique felt it growing... this balance between power and poise, a tension lingering behind her every move. Frideria did not speak again that day.
The day drifted, calm and uneventful.
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The final night arrived.
The Velvet Veil felt... heavier.
Not louder... no, the quiet remained. But there was a weight in the air now, as if the very walls were waiting.
Frederique stood at the far end of the room, her reflection caught dimly in the mirror behind the bar. Her posture perfect. The soft glow of candlelight kissed the edges of her pale skin, her dark eyes calm but unyielding.
The patrons were few. Fey. Mundane. No Vampire. No Garou. As it should be.
But the stillness felt... stretched.
The hour grew late.
The candles burned lower.
And just as the last sliver of night remained...
The door opened.
Two figures entered.
Frederique felt them before she saw them.
The Veil reacted, the wooden floor groaning softly beneath their weight. The air chilled. Not unnatural... no magic. But they carried something with them.
Presence.
She turned.
They stood just beyond the entrance, their faces shrouded by the dim lighting. One taller, broad-shouldered, his features obscured by a dark hooded cloak. The second was smaller, more graceful, a feminine shape wrapped in sleek crimson fabric, though her face remained hidden beneath a veil.
They did not speak.
They did not move.
But Frederique felt it... the way their gaze lingered.
Watching her.
No.
Watching the smile.
Her pulse slowed.
Steady.
Controlled.
Let them wonder.
And as the candlelight flickered once more, Frederique's lips curved... just slightly.
Sharp.
Measured.
Perfect.