chapter 17.5

The cold night air pressed against the high tower's stone walls, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant rain. Moonlight seeped through the narrow windows, casting faint silver beams onto the aged stone floor, illuminating the tension that filled the chamber like an unspoken threat. At the center of the room, Tanivar carefully unrolled a large, aged map, spreading it across the wooden table with deliberate precision. The parchment, old yet well-preserved, bore the intricate details of Middle Earth's vast borders, stretching all the way to the elven lands in the east. However, what caught Alcard's attention the most were the peculiar red markings scattered across various points—strategically placed symbols that indicated places of interest, places where something far more sinister was unfolding.

From his hiding spot behind a massive stone pillar, Alcard watched with unwavering focus. His sharp eyes traced the symbols on the map, noting a particular mark at the southern border of the elven territory—a ruin long believed to be nothing more than the remnants of a lost civilization. Yet, by the way Tanivar hovered over it, tracing its outline with his gloved finger, there was no mistaking the significance it held in the lord's plans.

"What is he looking for?" Alcard thought, his breathing slow and controlled. He knew better than to assume Tanivar's interests were purely historical—if the lord had his sights set on this place, it was because there was power to be claimed, something worth risking everything for.

Tanivar finally spoke, his voice filled with a calculated confidence, as though he was presenting irrefutable evidence before a council of judges. "Here," he declared, his finger tapping against the map's surface. "This place is far more than just an ancient ruin."

His audience remained hidden in the shadows, but Alcard sensed their presence—a weight in the air, an oppressive force that seemed to drink in the light rather than reflect it.

"According to my sources," Tanivar continued, his voice carrying the conviction of a man who believed he had uncovered a secret worth killing for, "something incredible is buried here. Something that can change everything."

His words hung in the air like a prophecy, thick with the promise of power.

Tanivar's demeanor shifted slightly, as if recounting what he had learned reignited a fire within him. "The land here has turned wild," he went on, his voice now tinged with fascination. "The vegetation has grown unchecked, weaving through the ruins like nature itself is trying to keep something hidden. The creatures that roam the area are unlike any found elsewhere—stronger, more savage, as though influenced by something ancient. No treasure hunter, no explorer, has ever returned alive."

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before adding, "But the stories persist. They speak of something buried deep within the ruins… a fragment."

The word fragment struck like lightning in the darkness.

From the unseen recesses of the chamber, the shadowed figure that had remained silent until now finally reacted. A deep, measured breath was drawn, followed by a voice that sent a shiver through the air—low, deliberate, filled with intrigue.

"Fragment?" the voice repeated, not with disbelief, but with a hunger veiled beneath curiosity. "Are you certain?"

Tanivar nodded without hesitation. "I would not waste your time with uncertainties," he replied, his tone sharper now, his desperation barely hidden beneath his confidence. "This fragment is the key. If I retrieve it, if I deliver it to The Veil, I will have proven my worth. With it, I will have earned my place—the Fifth Seat on the Council of Shadow."

Alcard's breath hitched slightly. The Council of Shadow.

The name carried weight, though very few had ever heard it spoken aloud. It was rumored to be the inner circle of The Veil, an unseen order that dictated the course of history from the shadows, manipulating kings, orchestrating wars, shaping Middle Earth's destiny without ever stepping into the light. If Tanivar was seeking entry into their ranks, then his ambitions far surpassed mere political power—he wanted control over something far greater, far darker.

The silence that followed was suffocating, an unbearable pause where reality itself seemed to hold its breath.

Then, at last, the shadowed figure spoke again, voice low and deliberate, carrying a weight that pressed against the stone walls.

"This information… is valuable," the voice conceded, each syllable measured with precision. "If this fragment exists, and if you are capable of retrieving it, then yes… the Fifth Seat may be within your grasp. But remember this—The Veil does not reward failure."

Tanivar's body stiffened. For the first time, true fear flickered across his expression, though he concealed it swiftly behind a mask of determination. He bowed his head slightly, acknowledging the warning. "I understand," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "There will be no failure this time."

Behind the pillar, Alcard remained perfectly still, yet his mind was ablaze.

That single word—fragment—echoed through his skull like a war drum. He had heard the stories, the legends passed down through hushed voices, tales of power beyond comprehension, of pieces of something ancient and terrifying, scattered across the world. Most dismissed them as mere myths.

But Tanivar didn't. And The Veil certainly didn't.

If this was true, if fragments truly existed and were more than just myths, then Middle Earth was teetering on the edge of something monumental.

"The Veil wants a fragment… but why?" The question burned in Alcard's mind. "Do they intend to use it? To harness its power? Or worse—are they trying to gather them all?"

He didn't know which possibility was more terrifying.

One thing, however, had become unquestionably clear—Tanivar was no longer just a corrupt lord with ambitions too large for his station. He was a pawn in a game far greater than he understood. And the consequences of his actions could be catastrophic.

Alcard's fingers curled into a fist as he made his decision.

"I have to get this information to Oldman. This isn't just about Tanivar anymore—this is about something far, far greater."

But he knew he couldn't act recklessly. If he so much as made a sound, if they realized someone had overheard this conversation, he would not leave this tower alive.

So he remained still, a shadow within the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to slip away undetected.

Meanwhile, Tanivar and his unseen master continued their whispered plotting, their voices weaving the first strands of a conspiracy that would soon shake Middle Earth to its core.

And Alcard, hidden in the darkness, prepared himself for the storm that was about to come.

****