Chapter 4: Veils of the Duskwarden

The Duskwarden ship smelled of ozone and iron, its corridors lit by pale blue lanterns that hummed like trapped spirits. Kael's boots echoed on the metallic floor as Mira led them deeper into the vessel, her smirk never wavering. Vessa trailed close behind, her dagger discreetly unsheathed, while Seraphine lingered near Borin, her Dawn Pact robes still dripping seawater.

"Welcome to the Eclipse," Mira said, sweeping a hand toward a vaulted chamber ahead. "Where secrets go to die… or be reborn."

The room was a nexus of chaos. Maps of unknown continents glowed on glass panels, and masked engineers tinkered with devices that spat sparks and whispered in languages long forgotten. At the center stood a woman clad in a silver-gray mantle, her face obscured by a lattice of black lace.

"Ah, the Bastard of Varynth." Her voice was a blade wrapped in silk. "I am Matron Illys, and you are expensive."

Kael eyed the jagged runes etched into the walls—symbols mirroring those on the Ashbringer's dagger. "I'm flattered. What's the price on my head?"

"Not your head. Your blood." Illys gestured to a holographic map flickering above a stone table. It showed Veridion, its borders crawling with Bloodsworn flame and Kaelthar falcons. "The Burner marked you. That scar is a key… and the Duskwardens collect keys."

Vessa stepped forward. "He's not a tool for your cult."

"Cult?" Illys laughed. "We are archivists, girl. The Ashbringer's fire, the Dawn Pact's zeal, your Kaelthar puppeteers—we preserve the truths they burn. And your Bastard," she turned to Kael, "is a truth made flesh."

Seraphine stiffened. "Blasphemy."

"Says the Puritan holding hands with a heretic." Illys' lace veil shifted, revealing a glimpse of scarred lips. "But enough theatrics. You're here because the Eclipse is the only sanctuary left. The Bloodsworn hunt you. The Dawn Pact brands you. And House Kaelthar…" She tapped the map; the Iron Pass flared red. "…has already claimed your father's keep."

Kael's scar twitched. "Cedran?"

"Dead. By Kaelthar steel, three nights past." Illys paused, savoring the blow. "Your half-sister, Lady Lysara, holds Varynth's remnants. But she'll kneel to Kaelthar by week's end… unless you intervene."

The words hung like smoke. Cedran's death meant nothing—Kael had mourned the man years ago. But Lysara… She was a child, barely twelve, with their mother's eyes. A pawn, he told himself. A liability.

Mira leaned against the table, her tone casual. "The Matron's offering a fleet. Ships, soldiers, enough firepower to raze Kaelthar's forces. All we ask is a taste of your blood."

"Why?" Kael demanded.

Illys glided to a sealed alcove. Inside floated a relic—a shard of black glass, its edges bleeding shadow. "The Burner's covenant runs in your veins. Your blood can awaken this… a shard of the Obsidian Throne, the source of Veridion's first magic. With it, we can end the Ashbringer's flame."

Borin spat. "Smells like sorcery."

"It's salvation," Illys countered. "Or would you rather die a pirate?"

Kael ignored them, staring at the shard. It pulsed faintly, a rhythm that mirrored his scar's ache. A key, she'd called him. Keys opened doors… and sometimes cages.

"What happens if I say no?" he asked.

Illys' veil fluttered. "You drown. The Duskwardens erase your name from history. And Veridion burns."

Vessa gripped his arm. "Don't. This is a trap."

"All life's a trap," he said flatly. "The trick's picking the one you can chew through."

Before he could answer, alarms blared. The holographic map shattered into static as a crewman shouted, "Breach! Starboard hull!"

The Eclipse shuddered. Through a viewport, Kael saw it—a Bloodsworn warship, its charred hull glowing with ember-filled cracks, gaining on them. At its prow stood the Ashbringer, her hands raised, eyes blazing like forge-coals.

"The Burner hungers, Bastard!" Her voice boomed through the walls. "Come. Feed him."

Kael turned to Illys. "You want my blood? Earn it. Stop that witch."

The Matron's lace mask hid her smile, but her eyes gleamed. "Gladly."

She nodded to Mira, who slammed a lever. The Eclipse's engines roared, and the ship lurched—not through water, but beneath it, plunging into the abyss.

The Eclipse plunged into the abyss, seawater screaming against its hull as the Bloodsworn warship dissolved into a distant inferno above. Kael braced himself against the shuddering walls, the Obsidian Throne shard humming louder as the pressure mounted.

"Depth's triggering the relic!" Illys shouted to her crew. "Stabilize the core!"

Mira dragged Kael toward a glowing chamber at the ship's heart. Inside, a pulsing crystal column throbbed with the same eerie blue as the harpoons. "Your blood," she said, thrusting a needle-edged vial into his hand. "Now."

"Or what? We drown?" Kael smirked. "You first."

Vessa slammed Mira against the wall, dagger at her throat. "Try stealing his blood again, and I'll spill yours."

Mira laughed, unfazed. "You're cute when you're protective. But we're all dead unless he cooperates."

The ship groaned, metal buckling. Seraphine stumbled in, clutching a Dawn Pact pendant. "The Burner's flame—it's inside the ship!"

Kael followed her gaze. Tendrils of crimson fire seeped through the hull, defying the water, coalescing into the Ashbringer's spectral form.

"You cannot hide," the prophet hissed. "The Burner claims what is his."

Kael drove the vial into his palm, letting his blood fill it. "Here's your damn key."

Mira snatched the vial and hurled it into the crystal column. The chamber flared blinding white. The Obsidian shard surged, its shadowy tendrils lashing out, snuffing the Ashbringer's fire. The prophet screamed as the shard's power devoured her spectral form, leaving only a scorch mark on the floor.

The Eclipse stabilized, rising swiftly. Illys entered, her lace veil singed. "Impressive. But the shard's hunger is… insatiable."

Kael gripped his bleeding hand. "What did it do to her?"

"Temporarily severed her bond to the Burner." Illys gestured to the shard. "This is but a fragment. The full throne could unmake her—or make her a god."

Borin scowled. "And you want to rebuild it?"

"We want to control it," Illys said. "And you, Bastard, will help us collect the remaining shards."

Kael's scar burned. "Why me?"

Illys lifted her veil, revealing a face webbed with scars identical to his. "Because the throne's magic runs in your bloodline. Your mother was no peasant. She was a Duskwarden born of the Drowned King's line, cursed to seek his throne.… until Cedran Varynth stole her."

The words struck like a slap. Kael's mother—a stranger in his memory, her face blurred by smoke—had been one of them. A liar. A manipulator. Like him.

Vessa stepped between them. "He's not your puppet."

"No," Illys agreed. "He's our king. The Obsidian Throne answers to its heirs. Rebuild it, and Veridion's ashes are yours to rule."

Seraphine scoffed. "This is heresy. The Dawn Pact will never—"

"The Dawn Pact is dust," Illys snapped. "House Kaelthar marches on Varynth Keep as we speak. Your choices are simple: die with your faith, or live with power."

The holographic map flickered back to life, showing Lysara—Kael's half-sister—kneeling before Lord Errick Kaelthar in Varynth's scorched great hall. The girl's wrists were bound, her face bloodied but defiant.

"Your sister inherited Cedran's stubbornness," Illys said. "Errick will break her. Unless you arrive first."

Kael stared at Lysara. A liability, he reminded himself. But her eyes—his mother's eyes—glared back, unbroken.

"Set course for Varynth Keep," he said.

Illys smiled. "And the shards?"

"We'll discuss my price after I kill Errick."

The Eclipse surfaced at dawn, its hull grinding against the cliffs below Varynth Keep. The fortress loomed above, its towers draped in Kaelthar banners. Borin surveyed the siege engines below. "They've got ballistae. We'll be skewered before we dock."

Kael strapped on a stolen Duskwarden blade. "We won't dock."

Mira arched a brow. "Swim?"

"Better." He turned to Illys. "You said the ship has weapons. Use them."

The Matron nodded to her crew. Panels slid open along the Eclipse's hull, revealing glowing cannons. "Aim for the eastern gate."

The blast shook the cliffs. Stone crumbled, smoke swallowing the Kaelthar forces. Kael leapt onto the gangplank. "Borin, take Seraphine and hit the armory. Vessa, with me."

Mira blocked his path. "And me?"

"You've done enough."

She smirked. "You're welcome."

As they charged into the chaos, Vessa kept pace. "Why'd you bring me?"

"Because you're good with secrets," Kael said. "And this keep is full of them."

They slipped through the shattered gate, dodging Kaelthar soldiers. The crypts beneath the keep were his target—Cedran's secrets, his mother's truth, all buried here. But as they descended, the air thickened with the smell of burnt herbs and blood.

In the lowest crypt, a figure waited—an old woman in tattered Duskwarden robes, chained to a rotting chair. Her face was Kael's mother's face.

"Hello, son," she rasped. "Took you long enough."