The Balmount night hung heavy, sky choked by clouds and silence. The alley's clamor faded as the last of the children were gathered. A few lingered—beastkin with matted fur, twitching ears, eyes dulled from hunger. Humans with hollow cheeks, limbs barely holding them upright. Rags clung to their thin frames like remnants of dignity.
A knight gently knelt, lifting a limp beastkin girl into his arms. Her ears drooped, barely moving. Beside him, a human boy clutched her hand, his gaze wary. The knight reached out, his voice low.
"It's alright. I've got you both."
He walked slowly, one child in each hand, vanishing into the streetlight's dying glow.
Beneath their feet, in the underbelly of the Kingdom, heavy steps echoed through Balmount's sewers. A cloaked figure advanced, boots splashing through shallow water, heading toward an iron-reinforced chamber. Inside, pale light pulsed from a glowing orb placed at the center of a weathered stone table. The faint hum it emitted cast wavering shadows across the gathered.
Zephyr, the High Chancellor, stood at the head. Around him sat Dorian, Alaric, Cassian, Varian, Lucian, the Priest, and Magnus. Two chairs remained empty, their absence pressing like a held breath.
Magnus shifted restlessly, drumming his fingers against the armrest. "Priest," he snapped, "when will your master arrive? We've waited long enough."
Cassian leaned back, voice smooth. "Magnus. You fidget like a child. The true master doesn't answer to your schedule."
Magnus's eyes narrowed. "Four meetings. Four. And not once has he appeared. Does that not concern anyone?"
Alaric's scoff broke the air. "I've said it before. We're not pawns in some bedtime myth. The King's scent is all over the streets now. You think we can afford this silence?"
Zephyr's gaze stayed fixed. "And what would you have us do? Burn the city before he speaks?"
Alaric leaned forward, eyes flaring. "We already are burning it. Slowly. I don't trust any man who hides behind prophets and shadows."
The High Chancellor's voice cut through, flat and firm. "Alaric. If your pride outweighs your purpose, then go."
Alaric smirked. "What purpose? You think I joined this for sermons and glowing orbs? I came to watch Balmount fall and profit when it does."
Lucian's eyes glittered coldly. "And yet, you've stayed. Strange, for a man who claims not to believe."
Alaric shot him a glare. "You want to question motives, Lucian? No one knows why you're here. You're the only one who never speaks unless it's poison."
Lucian's reply was quiet, his tone almost amused. "Some poisons reveal the truth faster than others. As for my reasons… they're beyond your grasp."
"Typical," Alaric muttered.
Zephyr raised a hand slightly, voice flat. "Enough."
Dorian shifted in his seat, arms crossed. He hadn't spoken, but his silence weighed more than most voices in the room. The Priest smiled faintly and lifted his hands in a gesture of calm.
"Brothers. Is this how we meet? We are inches from the edge, and yet we waste breath on petty spats?"
Magnus's voice sharpened. "Then give us answers. Where is your master, Priest? Where is this god you speak of?"
The Priest's smile didn't falter, but his eyes dimmed. "He is near. Closer than ever. Do not mistake stillness for absence."
Magnus leaned forward. "Stillness won't keep us alive when the King's blade cuts through our streets."
Zephyr tilted his head, eyes unreadable. "Then why did you join us, Magnus?"
Magnus hesitated, jaw flexing. "Because I believed. I believed in something stronger than the King's justice."
"And now?" Lucian asked, voice cool.
Magnus's reply was low. "Now… I want to see it. No more stories."
The Priest's fingers brushed the orb's surface. It shimmered faintly in response.
"You will," he said softly. "This kingdom has only tasted ashes. The Death God brings something more permanent."
Alaric stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against stone. "Permanent?" His voice dripped mockery. "I'll return when your master decides to crawl out of whatever pit he hides in."
He turned, steps echoing down the corridor. Zephyr watched him go, voice like stone.
"Leave now, Alaric, and this may be your last seat."
Alaric paused just at the threshold. "You don't get to threaten me, Zephyr. I made half of this rot happen. That's not erased so easily."
He disappeared into the darkness.
Silence settled again.
The High Chancellor looked to Magnus. "And you?"
Magnus stared into the orb's light. "I'm not leaving," he said at last. "But I won't follow ghosts."
The Priest's smile returned, calm and cold. "Then wait just a little longer. Tonight, the shadow will speak."
Magnus didn't look convinced. "I don't want riddles. I want proof."
Cassian exhaled slowly, folding his arms. "Let it go, Magnus. The Priest wouldn't summon us on a whim. His master must be near."
Magnus opened his mouth to reply, but a single footstep echoed from the corridor, slow, heavy, deliberate.
The council stiffened.
Another step. Then another. The air seemed to tighten.
A guard's voice rang out from beyond the chamber. "Who are you?"
There was a pause.
Then a scream — jagged, raw, and final, cut through the stillness like a blade.
Magnus flinched, his voice thin. "W-what… what's happening out there?"
The Priest's lips curled slowly, unnaturally. His eyes gleamed. "That must be my master."
All eyes turned to the passage as a cloaked figure emerged from the shadows. His steps were unhurried. Blood dripped steadily from his cloak. In one hand, he held a severed head by its dark curls, its eyes locked in a frozen scream.
The orb at the table's center flickered violently.
The Priest's smile faltered. "You're not… my master. Who are you?"
The figure chuckled — a low, guttural sound, thick with menace. He lifted his free hand, pushing back his hood. Dark red-brown hair fell to his shoulders. His eyes glowed faintly pale, cold and distant as death.
"Sorry," he said, his voice calm and chilling. "I was delayed. Had to deal with a pest."
He held the head higher, letting the light reveal the ruined face.
Alaric.
Gasps rippled through the chamber. Blood from the severed head splattered onto the table as he tossed it, letting it roll across the stone before it landed before Cassian's hands.
Magnus's voice cracked. "I-is… is that Alaric's head?"
The man gave a soft nod, brushing a speck of blood from his sleeve. "Yes. This one."
The council recoiled, eyes wide except Zephyr, who only frowned, unreadable.
The High Chancellor's voice trembled, something close to fury. "What insolence is this, Priest? You said we had an agreement!"
The Priest's eyes darted to the figure, panic blooming. "I don't know him, High Chancellor. I swear it!"
Zephyr lifted a hand slowly. "Don't panic."
He turned to the intruder, his voice measured. "I know him."
The figure smiled and calmly lowered himself into one of the empty chairs. Blood smeared across the stone as his cloak spread around him. The silence was thick.
"Thank you, Zephyr. Been a while, hasn't it?"
Zephyr didn't blink. "I don't care how long. You've watched from the shadows. Waiting."
The man's grin lingered. "You think so highly of me. I'm flattered."
Magnus's face had gone pale. He turned toward the Priest, stammering. "P-Priest… w-where is your master, then? Who is this man?"
The Priest moved his lips to answer, but the figure's voice sliced through the air, calm and frigid.
"The master? Busy. With matters I don't care to know."
Lucian leaned forward, his voice tight with suspicion. "Then who are you? And why have you come?"
The Priest swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. "Y-yes. My master would never send a… subordinate. Not without reason."
That drew a sound, soft at first, like wind through dead branches.
Then laughter.
"Hahaha…"
It rolled from the cloaked man's throat, cold and unhurried, like the hiss of a blade drawn in the dark.
"Subordinate?" he echoed, leaning in, just enough for the orb's flickering light to catch the edges of his smile.
"To your blind master?" His voice cut through the tension like ice through bone.
His eyes glowed brighter now, pale and unnatural. The shadows around him seemed to pull closer, as if the very room feared him.
"I am no puppet, Priest. I do not bow to mortals. And you would do well not to flatter yourself by drawing comparisons. Your master is a whisper. I am silence."
The High Chancellor moved, lips parting to speak, but Zephyr's voice came first, firm and slow.
"High Chancellor. Be still."
All turned to him.
"This man… is not someone you challenge."
Lucian's brow furrowed. "Zephyr… who is he?"
The figure's smile returned — thinner now, but deeper.
"I am Veilwalker," he said quietly. "Servant to a being whose shadow would blind you…a fallen angel."
The words landed like dropped stone into water—silent, heavy, eternal.
The Priest gasped suddenly, clutching his head. His spine arched in his seat as pain lanced through him. His breath shuddered.
Veilwalker did not even look his way.
"Your master is wise," he said coldly. "Silencing you was the correct choice. Speak again, and I will unmake you."
Magnus, shaking now, shoved back his chair and stood.
"Y-you… threaten him? In front of the entire council? Do you know who you're dealing with?! You're outnumbered here!"
Veilwalker turned.
Slowly.
His gaze met Magnus's. Calm. Empty. Eternal.
The temperature in the chamber seemed to plummet.
He spoke only two words.
"Magnus Embrane."
Magnus stiffened like a statue. His eyes widened.
Then he began to scream.
A high, breaking sound, ragged with something not human. His knees buckled. His hands flew to his head, fingers clawing at his scalp as though trying to hold his mind in.
"N-no—please! Stop! Please! MAKE IT STOP!"
Veilwalker remained seated, his eyes locked on Magnus, unmoving.
The scream rose. Louder. More ragged.
Magnus fell to his side, convulsing. His back arched unnaturally, veins bulging against paper-thin skin. A thick, unseen pressure crushed down on him as if the world itself was folding inward.
His mouth opened, but no more words came rhythm, only a rasping, choking sound as his soul was peeled away.
His eyes locked on the ceiling, wide and full of terror. Then they went still.
Magnus's body collapsed in a heap. Shriveled. Burned out. Empty.
What was left of him lay still, skin drained of all color, lips blue, fingers twisted in agony. His mouth still hung open, mid-scream, frozen in final horror.
Silence returned.
No one moved.
Not Cassian, whose hands had gone limp at his sides.
Not Lucian, whose breath now came slow and careful.
Not the Priest, who sat with a pale face slicked in sweat, eyes filled with haunted knowing.
Only Zephyr remained still. Watching.
Waiting.
Lucian's voice broke the silence first, quiet but burning with disbelief.
"What… what pain did you just cause him?" His eyes flicked to the twisted corpse on the floor, then back to Veilwalker. "Why? Why kill him?"
Veilwalker's gaze shifted slowly toward him, the dim orb's light casting shadows across his hollow smile.
"Pain?" he echoed, voice cold and still.
"No. That wasn't pain. That was judgment."
He stepped forward, his boots echoing softly on stone, the blood from his cloak trailing like ink across a scroll.
"Magnus Embrane was meant to die. His name was written in failure long ago."
He turned slightly, gaze brushing across the rest of the council like a blade.
"Anyone else want to play the fool?" His tone dropped to a whisper. "Leave. Now."
No one moved.
Silence pressed down like smoke. The only sound was the faint dripping of blood from the table's edge.
Satisfied, Veilwalker leaned back into the empty council seat, folding one leg calmly over the other.
"Good. Two tasks done."
He glanced to the High Chancellor. "Now. Brief me. How's the preparation progressing?"
The High Chancellor flinched. "It's… going."
Veilwalker's eyes narrowed like a tightening noose. "Brief, Chancellor."
Zephyr stepped forward, composed. "It's on track. A few delays, nothing serious. The specimen is secure, but difficult to move while the King remains in Balmount."
Veilwalker's head tilted.
"The King is no issue…if you don't fear him."
Zephyr's eyes were steady. "I don't fear him. I calculate. Things will proceed smoothly once he leaves for the summit."
Veilwalker smirked, his voice a murmur of disdain. "Ah, yes. The summit. A room full of posturing rulers bickering over borders."
He chuckled low.
"My master will attend one soon. Unlike them, he speaks only once to end arguments."
His gaze snapped back to Zephyr. "And the specimen?"
"Handled," Zephyr replied. "Veyron is transporting it. It will arrive when the roads clear."
Veilwalker clapped once, mockingly slow. "Good. That's what I like…short, clean answers."
He turned his head slightly, surveying the room.
"Questions?"
There was a pause before the Priest raised his voice carefully.
"The alley children, High Chancellor… where were they taken?"
The High Chancellor blinked, caught off guard. "I… I don't know. The soldiers weren't under Dorian's watch."
Veilwalker's voice turned sharp. "Then find them."
The Priest persisted. "We need more followers. If they are left…"
"Enough," Veilwalker snapped, his voice quiet but final. "You overreach."
The Priest froze. The room's tension thickened again.
"You should already have enough followers," Veilwalker added. "Do not ask for more unless you can control them."
The High Chancellor gave a stiff nod. "I will locate them."
Veilwalker stood slowly, his shadow crawling along the wall behind him like smoke given shape.
"Good. No slacking. I'm not patient, and I have no interest in excuses."
With that, he turned, his blood-soaked cloak brushing past Magnus's withered corpse as though it were dust.
His footsteps echoed down the corridor, fading with each passing second.
Only after the last sound vanished did anyone breathe.
Lucian turned slowly, his voice a shaken whisper. "Who… was that man?"
The Priest, still clutching his robes with trembling hands, leaned forward. "Why did my master punish me… just for speaking to him?"
Zephyr didn't answer at first.
He simply stood, silent, gazing down at the floor where Magnus's twisted corpse still lay, hollow and motionless.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet — not secretive, but heavy, as if speaking too loudly might stir something back.
"That is not your concern."
He stepped closer to the dying glow of the orb. Its flickering light cast long shadows across the chamber walls.
"But remember this…"
He looked up, his gaze sweeping across each of them, which was not threatening, but final.
"Even in death… you will meet him again."
The silence that followed was long and bitter.
Lucian's mouth opened slightly, but no words came.
Zephyr's expression was unreadable as he finally turned to leave.
Just before he reached the threshold, he stopped, glancing back over his shoulder.
"You asked who he is."
A pause.
"Not a man."
Another pause.
"He is known… as Veilwalker."
No one moved.
Zephyr's voice dropped to a murmur.
"Don't look for more answers… You won't like what you find."
He stepped into the darkness, his silhouette swallowed by the passage beyond.
The orb flickered once, then dimmed to a sickly glow.
The severed head of Alaric remained on the table, eyes wide in terror.
And in that breathless quiet, none of the council rose.
None dared speak.
None dared think his name again.