64.- Shadows of vengeance

The private study of Viscount Edmund Reinard in Eastwatch stood as a refuge of opulence and knowledge, a space where luxury intertwined with the burdens of power. The walls, clad in shelves overflowing with leather-bound books and yellowed scrolls, seemed to whisper tales of centuries past, while a white marble fireplace, now cold and unlit, dominated one end of the room, its ashes a faint echo of quieter days. An oil lamp hung from the ceiling, casting an amber glow that danced across the dark oak table strewn with maps and documents sealed with crimson wax. The air carried the dry scent of old paper and a lingering trace of aged smoke, but that night, the atmosphere crackled with a tension that made every corner seem to hum with unspoken words.

The Viscount paced restlessly before the fireplace, his boots echoing against the polished stone floor in an irregular rhythm that betrayed his usual calm. A man of middle age, his sharp features and brown hair flecked with gray were framed by a deep blue tunic embroidered with silver threads that glinted with his rank. His green eyes, sharp and intense, were fixed on the floor, as if seeking answers in the invisible cracks of the tiles. Across from him, Lord Comar Norian stood rigid by the table, his form as unyielding as a marble statue on the verge of shattering. Adviser to the Viscount and cousin to Alatar Norian, Comar was a sturdy man, his dark hair falling in disheveled strands over an angular face now etched with lines of worry and a growing impatience that pulsed with every breath. His voice, sharp and agitated, cut through the room like a whip.

"I'm telling you, Edmund!" he exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table, sending an empty silver goblet trembling. "We must act decisively! Those savages in the forest can't keep attacking with impunity. I demand you send the guard to patrol the area at once!"

The Viscount halted his pacing, turning to Comar with a weary sigh that slipped from his lips like an exhausted breeze. "I know, Comar," he replied, his tone measured but heavy with a fatigue he couldn't mask. "But we can't rush into this. The Guild's reports are muddled—they speak of monsters, shadows, a fog that clouds the mind. We need more information before mobilizing the guard."

"More information?" Comar scoffed, his face flushing as his voice rose, a raw edge of fury echoing off the shelves. "Two groups of adventurers have vanished, Edmund! Thalric's team disappeared weeks ago—no bodies, no weapons, nothing. And now the second, with my cousin Alatar, lost in that cursed forest. How much more information do you need? Whatever those monsters are, they're a threat to Eastwatch!"

"And the Guild is handling it," the Viscount countered, raising a hand to calm him, though his own fingers quivered slightly, betrayed by the pressure weighing on him. "Lord Valerius is a capable man. I trust he—"

"Trust?" Comar cut in, his sarcasm slicing through the air like a sharpened blade. "You trust a man who lets two groups, including my cousin, vanish without a trace? Alatar was a trained mage, Edmund, a noble of our house! And what do we get? Tales of shadows and fog. I demand results! I demand action!" His dark eyes blazed with a mix of grief and rage, and for a moment, the Viscount feared his adviser might lose all restraint.

Edmund furrowed his brow, his patience fraying under Comar's tone. He understood the man's frustration—Alatar had been a beloved cousin, a man whose easy laughter filled banquets, and his loss struck deep into the Norian family. But Comar's demands bordered on insolence, and the Viscount couldn't let anger dictate his choices. "Comar," he said, his voice firm as the marble fireplace, "I understand your concern, and I swear we'll do everything we can to find out what happened. But I won't let you pressure me into reckless decisions. The Guild is investigating, and we'll wait for their report."

Before Comar could retort, a soft knock at the door shattered the argument like glass hitting the floor. Both men turned, the tension in the room thickening further.

"Enter," the Viscount commanded, his voice deep and resonant in the silence.

The door creaked open, and a butler stepped in, his face pale and his hands trembling faintly as he offered a clumsy bow. "My lord Viscount," he said, his voice a nervous whisper, "Lord Valerius Thorne, Guild Master of Eastwatch, requests an urgent audience with you. He says it's a matter of utmost importance."

The Viscount and Comar exchanged a glance, the weight of those words settling over them like an unbidden shadow. Edmund nodded slowly, his mind already bracing for ill tidings. "Let him in," he said, his tone steady but laced with a foreboding he couldn't shake.

The butler bowed again and hurried out, leaving the door ajar. Moments later, Lord Valerius Thorne crossed the threshold, his tall, lean frame cloaked in a gray cape that billowed behind him like a tattered banner. Two Guild captains followed, among them Baelar, a man with a weathered face and piercing eyes. Valerius's features, usually calm as a seasoned strategist's, were etched with lines of concern, his gray eyes glinting with a gravity that chilled the air. He bowed to the nobles, but his stance was stiff, as if bearing an invisible burden.

"My lord Viscount, Lord Comar," he said, his deep voice reverberating through the room with a forced calm. "I apologize for the intrusion, but I fear I bring dire news. Very dire news."

Comar stepped forward, his eyes flashing with a mix of anticipation and dread, his breath ragged like that of a cornered beast. "What's happened, Guild Master?" he demanded, his voice taut as a bowstring ready to snap. "Have you found my cousin?"

Valerius drew a deep breath, his gaze locking onto Comar's with an intensity that offered no solace. "I'm afraid we have, my lord," he said, his tone heavy as a funeral bell. "Alatar is dead."

The words struck like a hammer, shattering the fragile balance of the room. The air, already thick with tension, became unbreathable, a void that seemed to drain the life from those present. Comar's face drained of color, and for an instant, his legs buckled, forcing him to brace himself against the table, the silver goblet clattering to the floor with a sharp ring that echoed in the stillness. "No… it can't be," he murmured, his voice cracking like broken glass, barely audible. "Alatar… dead…"

The Viscount Reinard, silent until that moment, approached his adviser, his face tightening with a blend of empathy and alarm. He recalled Alatar at a winter banquet, laughing with a goblet in hand, always so confident, so alive, and the ache of his absence hit like a distant echo. "Comar," he said, his voice soft yet firm, placing a hand on his shoulder, "I'm so sorry. I know how much you cared for Alatar."

Comar didn't respond, his eyes glassy, caught in a whirlwind of grief and disbelief. His hands shook against the table, knuckles whitening as he gripped the wood, as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. The Viscount watched him in silence, his mind torn between compassion and the need to maintain control in a room unraveling at the seams.

"How… how did it happen?" Comar asked at last, his voice hoarse, emerging like a stifled roar as he fixed Valerius with a fury he could barely contain. "I want to know everything. Every damn detail."

Valerius nodded, his expression taut but professional, as if he'd rehearsed the words to soften a blow he knew couldn't be cushioned. "According to Lyra, the sole survivor of the second group sent to Veridian Forest," he began, his voice cautious, choosing each word with care, "the team was attacked by unknown creatures. The first group, led by Thalric, vanished without a trace weeks ago—no bodies, no weapons, nothing. The second, sent to investigate reported anomalies in the area, met the same fate, except for Lyra."

"Creatures?" Comar repeated, his tone dripping with scorn, his face twisting into a grimace of disbelief. "My cousin, a trained mage, a noble of our house, killed by creatures? What kind of excuse is that?"

"They weren't ordinary creatures, my lord," interjected Baelar, the captain to Valerius's right, his gruff voice cutting through Comar's retort like a blunt blade. A broad-shouldered man, his face crisscrossed with scars like a map of past battles, his dark eyes gleamed with a seriousness that brooked no doubt. "Lyra speaks of monsters… shapeless shadows, a fog that warps perception. No mention of people, no dark mages, nothing we can pin down. Just… darkness."

Comar stared at Baelar, then turned to Valerius, his rage swelling like a storm about to break. "And where was the Guild's protection?" he demanded, his voice icy as a northern wind. "Why do we pay those so-called 'adventurers' if they can't even defend themselves from some… shadows?"

Valerius straightened, his calm beginning to crack under the weight of the accusation, but his tone remained steady, a shield against Comar's wrath. "Lord Comar," he said, a note of authority threading through his exasperation, "the Adventurers' Guild isn't your personal army, nor Eastwatch's. We're an independent organization, with our own protocols and priorities, loyal to the kingdom of Eldoria, not to any single noble house. We've lost two groups in total: Thalric's, gone without a trace, and Lyra's, from which only she returned, after watching her companion Faelan… burst apart during questioning, an act we can't explain. Veridian Forest is a dangerous place, and whatever lurks there is something we've never faced before. But I assure you, we'll investigate until we uncover the truth."

Comar opened his mouth to retort, his face flushing again, but Viscount Reinard raised a hand, his voice slicing through the argument like a sword silencing a battlefield. "Valerius," he said, his tone commanding yet tempered by a calm he fought to maintain, "Lord Comar is right to be concerned. Alatar's death is a serious matter that affects all of Eastwatch. But I also see that the Guild is facing something unknown. What have you gleaned from Lyra?"

Valerius took a deep breath, his hands adjusting the cape over his shoulders as if steadying himself. "She speaks of monsters, my lord Viscount," he replied, his voice tinged with a caution bordering on doubt. "Of formless shadows, a fog that clouds the mind and judgment. There are no clear descriptions, no names, nothing we can identify with certainty. Her account is… muddled, inconsistent, as if she can't fully recall what she saw, or as if something tampered with her memory."

"Are you suggesting she's lying?" Comar snapped, his tone biting, his eyes narrowing as if searching for an enemy in Valerius's words.

"No, my lord," Valerius replied swiftly, raising a hand in a gesture of peace. "But I believe her perception is compromised—by fear, by trauma… or by something else we don't yet understand. She mutters about fog and shadows, but her eyes… they're empty, like part of her stayed in that forest."

The Viscount crossed his arms, his gaze shifting from Valerius to Baelar and then to the floor, his mind working silently as the puzzle pieces refused to fit. He couldn't risk the guard without knowing more—Eastwatch wouldn't survive another blunder like the one a decade ago, when an entire detachment was slaughtered by orcs due to a rash command. "What do you propose, Guild Master?" he asked at last, his voice firm but edged with contained urgency.

"I've sent a message to the Guild's central headquarters in New Eldrin," Valerius answered, his tone regaining a professional certainty. "I've requested reinforcements—the Silent Reapers, an elite team trained for threats like this—and assistance from experts in unusual magic. I've also reached out to the Ivory Tower, though I don't expect much help from those pompous scholars."

"And in the meantime?" Comar pressed, his voice rising again, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "What do we do about those things lurking in the forest? Let them keep killing our people?"

"We'll bolster surveillance, Lord Comar," Valerius said, his tone hardening with a resolve that left no room for argument. "We'll warn the populace to avoid Veridian Forest at all costs. And we'll send patrols to investigate, but with extreme caution. We can't afford to lose more men without knowing what we're up against."

"That's not enough!" Comar shouted, his voice booming through the room like thunder, his face contorted with a mix of grief and fury. "I demand a hunting party be organized! Wipe those creatures out once and for all! For Alatar!"

"Lord Comar," Valerius countered, his patience teetering on the edge, "with all due respect, we don't know what we're facing. Sending hunters in blind would be suicide. We need information, we need strategy, not a gut reaction that costs us more lives."

Viscount Reinard nodded slowly, his gaze settling on Comar with a blend of compassion and authority. "Valerius is right, Comar," he said, his voice an anchor in the storm threatening to overflow. "We must be prudent. We can't let anger blind us—Eastwatch depends on our judgment, not our hearts."

Comar pressed his lips into a thin line, his breathing ragged as he wrestled with the words burning in his throat. At last, he relented, but his gaze—icy, brimming with hatred and a thirst for vengeance that wouldn't fade easily—promised he wouldn't rest. "Fine," he said, his voice cold as endless winter ice. "But if the Guild can't resolve this soon, I'll find my own solutions. And I won't stop at anything to avenge my cousin."

Valerius dipped his head slightly, acknowledging the implicit threat without responding directly. "I'll do everything in my power, Lord Comar," he said, his tone firm yet neutral. "I assure you."

With a gesture, Valerius and his captains withdrew, their footsteps echoing down the hall like a fading reverberation, leaving Viscount Reinard and Lord Comar Norian alone in the study. The silence that followed was heavier than the argument itself, a shroud of uncertainty settling over Eastwatch like a dark cloud heralding a storm. The Viscount looked at Comar, his adviser now still, lost in the grief consuming him, and knew the peace they'd maintained was fragile, on the brink of breaking under the weight of vengeance and fear.

Deep within Veridian Forest, beneath the earth that trembled with the pulse of living roots, Aurora reclined on her throne of bone and thorns, her amber eyes glinting with a cosmic radiance that seemed to hold entire galaxies. Before her, a crystal orb floated in the air, projecting flickering images of Eastwatch: Viscount Reinard, Comar Norian, and Valerius debating in the study, their voices echoing faintly into the dungeon like distant whispers. The young woman with green hair smiled, a playful curve to her lips that dripped with both amusement and power, her fingers tapping the throne's arm in a rhythm that seemed to mock the chaos she'd unleashed.

Beside her, Kaili stood with a presence that filled the chamber, her pale purple skin shimmering under the glow of gems embedded in the walls, her iridescent wings folded behind her like a mantle of living shadows. Her eyes—black sclera speckled with cosmic dust in hues of gold, red, or silver—watched the orb with disdain, the runes on her body pulsing with a faint red as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts, lifting them with a natural arrogance. "These insects never learn," she said, her voice a cruel murmur that sliced through the air like a sharpened blade. "They talk and talk, but they've no idea what awaits them." Her gaze slid to Sebastián, seated on a rock in the corner, his hands still faintly scented with mint and lavender from the oil he'd used the night before. For a moment, her cosmic eyes lingered on him longer than usual, a fleeting softness crossing her face before she dismissed it with a huff.

Sebastián looked up, a tranquil smile curling his lips as he toyed with a leaf between his fingers. "They seem scared," he said, his tone light but tinged with curiosity. "How long do you think it'll take them to come for us?"

Aurora laughed, a clear, melodious sound that filled the room like an echo of her delight. "Not long, my gardener," she replied, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint as she leaned toward the orb. "And when they do, Kaili and I will be ready to play." Her gaze settled on Kaili, one eyebrow arching with amusement. "It seems our gardener left a mark on you last night, Kaili. Or is that just my imagination?"

Kaili scowled, her runes flaring red for a second before softening to a faint gold, her posture stiffening as she looked away. "Don't talk nonsense, my queen," she growled, though her voice lacked its usual edge, and her hand twitched as if suppressing an urge. "He's just a human… a weakling playing with oils."

Aurora laughed again, leaning back in her throne with a satisfaction that needed no words, while Sebastián watched in silence, his smile widening just a touch. In the dungeon's dimness, the game continued, the pieces shifting on a board the insects of Eastwatch couldn't yet fathom, and the calm of the previous night faded slowly into the promise of chaos yet to come.