Advice

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Warning

The following novel contains material that may be harmful or traumatic to some readers.It contains graphic descriptions of murder, violence, and other unpleasant text.

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* images in "Characters" section are AI Generated Images and serve as inspiration and may not fully represent the author's vision. *

For a better experience, I recommend opening the Characters section so you can visualize the character as accurately as possible. The descriptions here will not be very detailed.

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"How... How do you do that? The... mind thing?" I ask, confused—like a rat caught over an open flame.

The woman, Celeste, dusts herself off.

"That's a long story. Right now, we have something more important to discuss." Her voice is firm. "What are you doing here?"

Before I can answer, two Wardens approach, carrying small black stools. They place them down, pushing them into the sand before silently walking away.

Celeste sits immediately, then watches me.

"Sit."

I get the message. I sit.

"Well, to answer your question..." I begin. "I honestly didn't even know I was on a ship coming here."

"I woke up after somehow ending up on board… There was chaos everywhere. The soldiers were on high alert."

Celeste listens.

"I heard..."

"Some influential Vulturist's son was chosen to be sent to Magnus Murus. And he wasn't exactly happy about it..."

"He and his men attacked the Ekpesu soldiers, which sparked yet another… meaningless revolution."

Celeste frowns.

"That pathetic fool, Alandr, still can't let go of the past. He has to keep provoking Gideon."

So Alandr Ulbridge and Gideon Voss have a personal conflict? I didn't know that… Interesting. Even a nobody from the Ghetto is enough to get under the Lord of Ekpesu's skin?

"Then I woke up on the ship, still thinking I was on the right one—until I found out over a meal that I wasn't."

"Honestly, I panicked. I was terrified. Especially when your men on the cliffs were ready to kill a soldier just because there was one extra person."

I finish my explanation.

Celeste's gaze sharpens.

"I'm glad they reacted that way." She says coldly. "They follow orders. And here, on the wall, orders are everything to them."

She leans forward slightly.

"If it were up to me, Tira…" Her lips curl into a small smile.

"I'd let you walk right through the wall. Let you go wherever you want. To Dutan, to Altay—anywhere..."

Then her smile widens.

"You're thinking about escaping, aren't you?"

And I—

I am officially fucked.

A chill runs down my spine.

I freeze.

For the first time in a long while, fear grips my body.

I can't even answer.

Celeste's smile fades.

In its place—a serious expression.

"But I can't let you go."

"God's law forbids me from letting anyone pass through the wall."

Her next words send a fresh wave of dread through me.

"That's why you will undergo Warden training."

I stiffen.

I've seen their training.

It's merciless.

Emotionless.

They fear nothing.

"But—But—"

"It will only last about a year." Celeste cuts me off, her tone almost casual.

"It won't be full training. You won't learn what the others have spent years mastering."

"But you'll learn the basics. The things you'll need beyond the wall… That, I can promise you."

She leans forward, resting her elbow on her knee.

"And exactly one year from now, you will face a trial."

I stare at her.

"A trial?" I repeat.

She hums.

"Ritualis Duplex Gladii..."

She speaks in a language I don't recognize.

Then, in my tongue—

"The Ritual of the Twin Blades.

What you saw earlier."

My mind snaps back—to her movements.

The swords.

The pattern.

And suddenly—I understand.

"A ritual where you will face your own shadow. A shadow that represents the darkness within you..."

"It will cleanse and train your soul against the darkness that will try to consume you, Tira." Celeste says, her voice utterly serious.

I just stare at her, confused. Then, nervously, I let out a small laugh.

"Darkness? Consuming me?"

I chuckle a little more. But Celeste…

She's not joking.

"You're serious?" I ask, my laughter dying down.

Celeste smiles.

"Mhm."

It's a strange smile…

"You're a girl from the Ghetto, so I'll tolerate your short-sightedness. But this darkness... it is real."

"Do you think we're just a bunch of fools in masks? That all of this is some elaborate theater meant to amuse... or scare the weak-willed?"

"So, one year of training. If you succeed in the ritual... you're free to go."

"If you fail..."

"You stay here. Forever." Celeste states plainly.

I don't like my odds. And I sure as hell don't want to be trapped here for eternity.

It's like the Ghetto itself is whispering to me.

"You don't understand now... but when you do, Tira... when you complete the ritual successfully..."

"Then, you will have a choice—to join us, or to leave of your own free will. Free will is everything to us."

Her words catch me off guard.

I glance at the other Wardens.

"And do they have free will too?" I ask, pointing to the silent figures surrounding us.

Celeste is quiet for a moment. Then she replies—

"Yes. They can leave anytime they wish. But they don't… because they understand the purpose of the Void Wardens."

"But I think we've talked enough."

She stretches slightly, then continues—

"I could send you back to Ekpesu, but that's not who I am."

"You're running from that city. From that wretched Ghetto. And I understand that."

"My offer is more than generous… Believe me, you should be grateful that I command the northern part of the wall."

"If you had ended up in the main section—or worse, the southern wall..."

"They would have executed you on the spot."

Celeste rises, walking toward her blades.

But—

One question still burns in my mind.

A question I need answered.

"Is the world any different from the one I know?" I ask, curiosity burning in my voice.

Because everything—the landscape, the sea, the air itself—feels almost otherworldly.

But then I see this wall.

It's not here for show.

I see these people.

And I wonder—is there something far worse out there?

Something more dangerous than the Ghetto?

Celeste pauses near her swords, considering my question.

Then, she takes them in hand, slides them back into their sheaths, and turns to face me.

"That is a question you must answer for yourself."

"Many questions require patience."

"Find the answer to patience… and you will find the answer to everything."

Her words are poetic.

Utterly useless to me.

But... who knows?

Then—

"One advice, Tira..."

She looks at me seriously.

"Do not attempt to escape."

Her voice is cold. Absolute.

"Believe me. Here… it is meaningless."

And with that—she turns and walks away.

Immediately, the Wardens step forward.

Looks like… I don't have a choice after all.

But maybe—

Maybe this could help me.

Escape is out of the question.

For now.

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Chambers of Lords, Castle of Cedrion, Ekpesu

Celestis Calendar: Day 12, Month of Raphaelis (3/9)

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Too many hours later, Midnight

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Alandr Ulbridge sits in his chair, on the balcony of his private chambers.

A glass of wine in his hand.

One leg crossed over the other.

A sword resting against the right side of his chair.

His shirt is undone, revealing a hint of bandages wrapped around his shoulder.

His solitary eye gazes up at the sky—where a thousand stars shimmer above.

A lone moon, surrounded by three planets, reflecting the sunlight onto the darkened city below.

He searches them for comfort.

For understanding.

For purpose.

But he only finds two answers.

His goal is clear—destroy Gideon.

Destroy the Ghetto.

But how?

His purpose is obvious—even in the physical sense.

The Ghetto is nothing but a massive cage—a prison filled with Shadow Lions.

And even if you leave that cage alive…

You never leave whole.

He takes a sip of his wine… then casually tosses the glass over the stone railing.

Not out of anger.

Just because.

He exhales. Cracks his fingers.

Grabs his sword.

And smiles.

"How much longer do you plan to hide in the shadows?" Alandr suddenly speaks.

He turns his gaze to the right.

And from the darkness, a figure emerges.

A cloaked silhouette.

Long black hair spilling over his shoulders.

"If I'm not mistaken… you were the one watching me this morning at the Square, weren't you?"

Alandr's voice remains calm.

"Gideon's assassin? Or just another one of my enemies?"

He doesn't sense any threat from this person.

After all—if he wanted him dead, he could have done it already.

The figure lowers his hood.

Revealing his face.

Alandr studies him.

"I see... you are quite observant Lord Ulbridge."

"My name is… Ereboreth."

And just like that—

The same Ereboreth who took Timothee from the Crypt now stands within the walls of Cedrion Keep.

Alandr raises an eyebrow.

"Ereboreth?"

"Strange name. Feels like I've heard it before."

He drifts through his memories—but finds nothing.

"So… the mysterious Ereboreth. What brings you to my keep? A fortress filled with guards sworn to protect their lord?"

His tone drips with irony as he rests his sword against the chair once more.

"First of all, I don't want to hurt..."

"HAH."

Alandr cuts him off instantly.

"If I were afraid… I certainly wouldn't be this calm. 

A smirk plays at his lips.

"I don't care if this conversation ends with one of us dead… I just want you to spit out whatever you came here to say. Then we'll see what happens."

Ereboreth watches him for a moment.

A small smile.

Then, he steps forward.

Alandr's eye sharpens. He tracks every movement. Every step.

Trying to read him.

But for now… he can't.

"A simple topic… with difficult answers." Ereboreth finally says.

"Gideon Voss. The Ghetto. The Revolution."

Four words.

Alandr's interest sparks.

"What about them?" He asks, not yet understanding.

"When dealing with these troublesome matters… you are, let's say, bound by the Heavens."

"They do not allow you to act as you truly wish, do they?"

He ends with a question.

Alandr nods slightly.

"Who would be surprised?"

He reaches for the wine bottle, speaking as he does.

"The Patron of the Empire gets some ridiculous idea… and we're the ones who have to take responsibility for it."

He takes a drink.

…

"But when the city has faced several such revolutions, he has always taken his hands off it, and has always taken the liberty of still lecturing us on what we can and cannot do."

Alandr's gaze locks onto Ereboreth, eyes wide.

"So yes. I am bound." He admits, setting the wine bottle down.

"If I had the freedom… I'd send Rodrakon in, crush the Ghetto, and open another fine bottle from our cellars."

Then—

"I can serve Gideon to you on a platter."

Ereboreth's words hit Alandr like a blade.

His attention sharpens.

"How?" He asks, curiosity piqued.

"That pig barely leaves his rat hole Sir Ereboreth."

"So I'm listening. Carefully."

Ereboreth smirks.

"I have my own plans for the Ghetto."

"I don't know if that's crossed your mind—"

"It has." Alandr interrupts.

"You wouldn't just 'mysteriously' appear during a revolution if you didn't."

Ereboreth simply nods.

"Then you understand… I have my own ways to lure him into a trap."

"Your only task…"

"Is to be the executioner."

Alandr listens. Closely.

He ponders.

Even though questions race through his mind, only one vision remains clear.

Gideon's death.

Nothing else matters.

"I kill Gideon, that slimy Synn loses most of his influence… and the only remaining threat would be the Vulturist sect in the Ghetto's Dark Cathedral."

"With them gone, the path to complete power over the Ghetto will be wide open."

Alandr rises.

He steps closer to Ereboreth.

"But there's one thing that bothers me… one thing I can't quite shake."

"If you're telling the truth…" Alandr begins, his gaze sharp.

"You could have killed Gideon yourself long ago and taken his throne, couldn't you?"

"So why didn't you?"

He leans forward slightly.

"And please, spare me any nonsense about not dirtying your own hands."

A precise question.

Alandr isn't just asking—he's digging. Trying to read Ereboreth more than he has so far.

Ereboreth pauses.

The air thickens.

The tension builds.

Then—

"As you said yourself… the doors to power will open for me."

"But those very doors began to tremble the moment Gideon used Devil's Powder."

"That's when I realized something."

Ereboreth's voice lowers.

"I don't have much time left to remove him using my usual… methods."

"Because the way Gideon Voss has chosen to fight you…"

"At this rate, there won't be any doors left standing."

"And my plans will crumble to dust."

His words are convincing.

Too convincing.

Alandr believes him.

Finally, he sees it.

The reason.

The truth behind this unexpected alliance.

Alandr smirks.

He extends his hand.

Ereboreth looks at it. Then at Alandr.

Then—

"Within a week, he'll be exactly where you want him."

"I'll let you know."

Alandr narrows his eyes.

"Hey—"

"My dear, you're still awake?"

A voice calls from his chambers.

Alandr turns his head—just for a second.

When he looks back…

Ereboreth is gone.

Alandr stands there for a moment, blinking.

Then, slowly—he smiles.

His hand clenches into a fist.

"You cunning bastard."

He yawns.

…

"I'm coming, my love." He says as he heads inside.

Then—

"Tonight, I feel like fucking."

His wife chuckles softly.

"In the mood, are we, dear?"

Alandr grins.

"You bet your fucking ass I am."

To be Continued...