chapter 17.4

The massive wooden door leading into the tower was slightly ajar, allowing a thin sliver of moonlight to spill onto the stone floor beyond. It was just enough for Alcard to peer inside without revealing his presence. His sharp eyes tracked Lord Tanivar's hurried steps, noting the way the man's movements lacked their usual composure. There was tension in the way he walked, a kind of restless anxiety that only surfaced when a man was trapped between failure and fear.

Alcard stayed in the shadows, moving with the silence of a ghost, his footfalls barely more than whispers against the cold stone steps. He followed Tanivar from a safe distance as the lord ascended the winding spiral staircase toward the top of the tower. The dim glow of torches along the walls flickered wildly, casting elongated shadows that danced with each passing moment.

"What is he up to?" Alcard's mind raced as he maintained his pursuit. Tanivar had always been a schemer, a man who played his hand carefully, but tonight, something was different. There was no calculated arrogance in his demeanor, no sign of the confident noble who had controlled so much from behind his fortress walls. Tonight, he looked like a man who feared he had lost control.

When they reached the tower's peak, Tanivar halted before stepping into the open chamber at the summit. He hesitated, drawing in a slow, steadying breath as though bracing himself for whatever awaited him beyond. His fingers twitched, betraying a nervous energy as he finally entered.

Alcard pressed his back against the cold stone, remaining just outside, listening.

Inside the chamber, there was no blazing hearth to provide warmth, no candlelight to soften the harsh reality of the night. The only illumination came from the thin beams of moonlight streaming through the narrow windows, leaving much of the room in darkness. The air was thick with an unspoken weight, a presence that did not need to be seen to be felt.

For a long moment, there was silence. Then, at last, Tanivar spoke, his voice lower than usual, filled with unease.

"Forgive me," he muttered. "I failed to eliminate the Life-Seer Arwen."

Alcard's eyes narrowed. His grip tightened slightly on the hilt of his hidden dagger, though he did not draw it—not yet.

Tanivar continued, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "I underestimated her protector. The outcast that accompanied her... he was more dangerous than I anticipated. I should have sent my personal guard. I was too careful, too subtle. That was my mistake. I understand if you are... displeased."

Silence followed his confession. A silence that was too deep, too unnatural.

Alcard's instincts screamed at him—there was something else in that room, something unseen.

Tanivar shifted uncomfortably, as though waiting for judgment that never came. When he finally spoke again, his tone was more desperate.

"But I bring something far more valuable." His voice rose slightly, laced with urgency. "Information. I have spent resources, risked much, to uncover secrets that will prove my worth. This knowledge will be of great benefit to The Veil."

Alcard inhaled sharply, his pulse steady but his mind now racing at twice its usual pace.

The Veil.

He had heard the name before, whispered in the darkest corners of Middle Earth. It was not a kingdom, nor an alliance of lords, but something far more insidious—a hidden force manipulating the world from the shadows. Some believed they were merely a myth, a ghost story told by mercenaries and spies. Others, those who had seen their work firsthand, knew better.

If Tanivar was connected to The Veil, then this was no longer just about corruption or power—it was treason on a scale far greater than anyone had imagined.

The Veil did not operate openly. They did not leave trails to follow. If Tanivar was communicating with them directly, it meant he had been deemed valuable enough to be considered an asset.

Alcard pressed himself deeper into the shadows, his breath controlled, every muscle in his body tensed for action.

Tanivar took a cautious step forward, speaking now with the eagerness of a desperate man trying to prove his worth.

"With this information, I know I deserve my place—the Fifth Seat in the Council of Shadow. That is what was promised, was it not?"

Alcard clenched his jaw.

Council of Shadow. A name he had never heard before. But if there was a ranking system, if there were "seats" in this organization, then The Veil was even more structured—and more dangerous—than he had previously believed.

Tanivar's words carried ambition, hunger, the desire to rise higher in the ranks of this unseen force. But something was wrong.

Whoever he was speaking to had yet to answer him.

The silence stretched, growing heavier by the second. It was not the absence of sound—it was a calculated void, a presence in the dark deliberately making its authority known without uttering a single word.

Tanivar swallowed hard, shifting on his feet. His confidence was waning.

Alcard remained still, absorbing every detail. Who was in that room? Who was listening?

Tanivar was not a man who frightened easily, yet now, he stood in a position of pure submission, waiting for acknowledgment that did not come.

Something was wrong.

Then—the temperature dropped.

It was subtle, barely noticeable, but Alcard felt it. The air shifted, thickened, like the weight of something unseen pressing against his very being.

His instincts screamed. This was not normal.

A single voice finally broke the silence.

"You assume too much, Tanivar."

The voice did not belong to any man.

It was low, almost a whisper, but it carried a weight so immense that Alcard felt it vibrate in his bones.

It was a voice without origin, without a true source, as if it did not belong to the physical realm at all.

Tanivar took a sharp breath, stepping back instinctively, as though he, too, realized the shift in the air.

"We do not reward failure."

The words were absolute, like a judge passing a sentence, and for the first time, true fear flickered across Tanivar's face.

Alcard had seen men terrified before—in battle, in war, in the final moments before death. But this fear was different. It was not the fear of dying.

It was the fear of something far worse.

The room seemed to darken, though Alcard knew that was impossible. The shadows deepened, swallowing what little moonlight remained.

Tanivar tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat.

Alcard's grip on his dagger tightened. He had heard enough. Whoever was in there was beyond dangerous, beyond anything he had encountered before.

He had to escape before he, too, became a shadow lost within these walls.

With measured precision, he began to retreat down the staircase, ensuring his movements made no sound.

Whatever this was, whatever force The Veil truly possessed—it was no longer a secret he wanted to uncover tonight.

For now, survival was his only priority.

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