Shadows In The Estate

Chapter 9: Shadows in the Estate

The air inside the Veil Syndicate's inner chambers was thick with tension.

Riven stood in a dimly lit briefing hall, lined with stone walls adorned with veiled insignias. The only source of illumination came from flickering lanterns, casting long, jagged shadows across the room.

Before him stood Lady Veyna, seated upon an obsidian throne at the head of a long table. Around her were high-ranking assassins, all clad in dark robes and wearing masks of varying designs—some plain, others etched with silver markings signifying rank.

Veyna's violet eyes settled on him, unreadable yet piercing. "Your first mission as one of us will determine whether you are a tool or a liability."

Riven said nothing.

A masked figure stepped forward, unrolling a parchment onto the table.

"The target is Lord Alren Vael, a noble of Avarice Hollow. He presents himself as a merchant lord, but he secretly funds operations that disrupt Syndicate influence."

The parchment bore a sketch of a stern-looking man, his lined face framed by silver-streaked black hair. Beneath it were schematics of a grand estate, marked with possible entry points and security details.

"This mission is not a mere assassination," the masked figure continued. "Vael holds documents—contracts, records, names of high-value individuals. Destroying them would be an inconvenience. Retrieving them would be power."

Riven studied the map. "Extraction, not elimination?"

Veyna smirked. "If the opportunity presents itself, do both."

Riven nodded.

"You will go alone."

A murmur stirred among the assembled assassins. Most initiates were paired for their first mission. The fact that he was sent alone meant two things—either they expected him to succeed… or they expected him to fail.

Veyna leaned forward slightly. "Do not disappoint me."

Riven turned, vanishing into the shadows.

Avarice Hollow lay on the eastern side of the city, where noble wealth and corruption intertwined seamlessly. Lord Vael's estate was a fortress disguised as a mansion, its stone walls lined with archers and patrolling guards.

Riven watched from a rooftop, cloaked in darkness. Three guards at the front gate. Two stationed on the balconies. Light emanated from several windows, but the study—the room he needed to access—remained dark.

Entry Point Identified.

He activated Shadowmeld, his form fading into the night as he leapt onto the estate's outer walls. His movements were silent, his presence nonexistent. A wraith slipping through the cracks of reality.

With practiced ease, he scaled the side of the mansion, gripping the stone ledges until he reached a second-floor balcony. The window was locked—simple but not impossible.

A thin dagger slid from his sleeve. A quick flick—click. The latch lifted.

He slipped inside.

The study smelled of aged parchment and spiced incense, the air thick with the scent of burning wood from the fireplace. Rows of ornate bookshelves lined the walls, and at the center stood a polished mahogany desk, papers scattered atop it.

Riven moved swiftly, scanning the documents.

Trade agreements. Noble correspondences. Financial records. All valuable, but not what he needed.

Then, a parchment marked with the Veil's insignia.

His eyes narrowed. Why would Lord Vael have Syndicate-marked documents?

He reached for it—

A whisper of movement.

Instinct flared. He vanished into the shadows just as a blade sliced through the air where his hand had been.

Riven reappeared near the bookshelves, his dagger drawn.

A woman stood where he had just been, her form cloaked in dark leathers, a curved dagger gleaming in her grasp. Her features were partially masked, but sharp golden eyes locked onto him with calm precision.

"You're quick," she murmured, her stance relaxed but prepared. "Most would already be dead."

Riven didn't lower his blade. "Who are you?"

She tilted her head. "A better question—who sent you?"

He didn't answer.

Her lips curved slightly. "I assume the Veil. That makes this… complicated."

Riven studied her stance. Balanced. Experienced. Not a reckless killer, but a professional.

She moved first.

The attack was fluid—a feint, followed by a near-invisible strike toward his ribs. Riven twisted, his own blade clashing against hers with a sharp clang.

Fast. Precise. Lethal.

He countered, shifting his weight and striking for her throat. She narrowly dodged, rolling into the shadows. She moved like an assassin trained in high-level techniques.

Which meant she wasn't just a noble's hired guard.

She was a rival.

They circled each other, neither rushing in.

"You're after the documents," Riven deduced.

She smiled. "So are you."

A silent understanding passed between them.

Which meant Vael's documents held more than just noble transactions.

Riven moved.

This time, he didn't go for the obvious kill. He faked an overhead slash, forcing her to step back—directly into the shadows where his Shadow Chains coiled.

They lashed forward—

And caught nothing.

Riven blinked.

The woman was already behind him.

A blade pressed lightly against his back.

"Not bad," she murmured. "But you're still young."

For the first time, Riven felt something strange—a cold, creeping sensation in his chest.

Not fear.

Recognition.

Before he could react, she pulled back, stepping away. "I have what I need."

His eyes flicked to the desk.

The marked parchment—gone.

"You were stalling."

She winked. "A girl has to have priorities."

The sound of voices echoed down the hall—guards approaching.

Riven's eyes snapped back to the woman—but she was already gone.

Only the lingering scent of spiced perfume remained.

Riven moved fast, exiting through the balcony before the guards arrived.

As he fled into the night, his mind churned with questions.

The woman had been there for the same reason. Not to kill, but to steal.

Who was she? And why did she know his movements so well?

More importantly…

Who else was watching?

Back at the Veil Syndicate, Riven stood before Lady Veyna, the stolen documents absent from his report.

Her violet eyes studied him for a long moment. "The mission was compromised?"

He nodded. "A rival assassin was present. She took what we needed."

A pause.

Then, amusement flickered in her gaze. "Did she now?"

Riven remained silent.

She leaned back. "We will deal with that soon. For now…"

She tossed something toward him—a new obsidian emblem.

"Consider this your next step forward."

[Status Updated: Rank Increased – Syndicate Operative.]

Riven caught it, fingers curling around the symbol.

The game was changing.

And he was no longer just a pawn.

END OF CHAPTER 9