Back at balmount Kingdom
A shimmering, ethereal light filled the cavernous hall, cast by massive crystals embedded in the smooth stone walls. Their soft, pale glow stretched across the chamber, banishing most of the shadows and wrapping the space in a quiet sense of sanctuary. Despite the vastness of the underground refuge, the air remained fresh, touched with the scent of clean stone and something faintly floral.
The voices of children echoed softly, warm and bright. Some darted between crystal pillars in a game of tag, their laughter like birdsong in the stillness. Others sat in little groups, their eyes wide as caretakers read aloud from well-worn books. The stories filled the space with a hum of life.
But beneath the surface warmth, a quiet tension hung — subtle, but real.
Two knights stood stationed at a single, thick metal door at the far end of the hall. Their armor shimmered faintly in the crystal light, polished and alert, for it seemed three children were approaching them. Nearby, caretakers moved briskly but with care. Some rushed to lay out bowls of food on stone counters. Others checked gently on children swathed in bandages, adjusting pillows or whispering soothing words.
Even the injured smiled. Some chuckled softly. The resilience in the room was almost louder than the laughter — a kind of quiet defiance against whatever threat lingered beyond these walls.
In a quieter corner, Eryndor stood, a clipboard in one hand, his brow furrowed as his sharp gaze moved between lists and children.
"Hmm… the supply the Countess has sent is quite small this time," he murmured.
Beside him, Maelis, a caretaker with warm amber eyes and soft chestnut hair tied back neatly, folded her hands in front of her apron. "Yes, Mr. Eryndor. The rations are enough for now, but…" She hesitated slightly before continuing. "We have more children and caretakers than we did last month."
Eryndor turned to her, eyes narrowing slightly. "What do you mean by that?"
Maelis met his gaze calmly, her tone respectful yet steady. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, sir. I only meant that with the new arrivals… the food doesn't go as far. We are managing, but growing children…especially those recovering from injury…need strength. And the caretakers need theirs as well."
Eryndor exhaled, his shoulders dipping just slightly. "I see. No, you're right to speak plainly. I'll have the countess prioritize more dried goods and medicine."
He was about to turn away when a new voice approached.
"Apologies for interrupting, Mr. Eryndor."
A tall woman stood there, sharp-featured, her jet-black bob immaculately cut, and eyes as pale as moonlit ice.
"The man is here."
Eryndor's grip on the clipboard tightened faintly. He handed it to Maelis. "Hold on to this for now."
Maelis took it carefully. "Of course, sir."
"Thank you, Thalia," he said to the other woman with a small nod.
As he moved off, Thalia glanced after him, then turned to Maelis with a curious look. "Did something go wrong?"
Maelis's smile was faint. "Nothing worth bothering the children over. How are the ones with injuries?"
"Almost fully healed. Though some of them… they've been asking if they can see the Queen."
Maelis's expression softened, and for a moment, she looked older — tired, but holding on.
"They will. Just not yet. For now, please let the others know we need to keep things balanced. No overfeeding."
"Understood, ma'am," Thalia said, offering a quick nod before walking away.
Eryndor, now halfway across the glowing hall, was stopped briefly by a sudden gust of giggles. A small boy bumped into his leg as he darted past in a game of tag, cheeks red from exertion, eyes wide with joy.
"Careful," Eryndor said, voice firm but warm.
A beastkin girl with sleek black fur and panther ears skidded to a halt behind him. "Sorry, Mr. Eryndor!" she called breathlessly, before running after his friend.
Eryndor allowed himself a faint smile, then continued walking. As he neared the heavy door, his eyes found a familiar trio — a tiger-eared beastkin girl, a young bear-furred boy, and a human girl with a ribbon in her hair. They were huddled near the knights, laughing quietly, their faces lit with a kind of fragile hope.
The two knights and the children immediately turned at the sound of Eryndor's steps. The children lit up, smiling brightly, while the knights straightened and gave a sharp salute.
"Hello," Eryndor said, his voice gentle as he stepped closer, gaze resting on the three little ones. His smile softened. "What are the three of you doing here? You know this section isn't safe."
The warmth left his expression as he turned to the knights, his tone firm. "You both have some explaining to do."
The knights opened their mouths, but before they could speak, the children stepped forward.
The small human girl looked up at him with earnest eyes. "We're sorry, sir. We just thought... they looked lonely."
Her voice was soft, like she genuinely believed that was enough to explain everything.
The beastkin boy, his bear ears twitching nervously, added, "And we wanted to help! Guard everyone, like real knights!"
One of the knights let out a breath, clearly relieved. "Forgive us, sir. It won't happen again."
The second knight gave a respectful nod, echoing the sentiment.
Eryndor's gaze lingered on the children for a long moment. "They're too young for this... but they understand more than they should." His frown eased slightly, though his voice remained low. "You both know better. We can't afford to take the children's safety for granted. Not anymore."
Then, after a beat, a faint smile curved his lips. "But... since they want to protect everyone, it is allowed."
The children's eyes lit up instantly, beaming with joy.
Eryndor gave a small nod. "That means the two of you…" he turned to the knights "…will start giving them tips on how to protect themselves. Light training only. Under watch. Understood?"
The children rushed forward, wrapping their arms around his waist in a spontaneous hug.
"Thank you, Mr. Eryndor!" they chorused.
He chuckled, placing a hand gently on the beastkin boy's head. Then his eyes met one of the knights'. "Please open the door. I need to see our guest."
The knight gave a quiet "Yes, sir," and stepped forward. He pulled a heavy iron key from his belt and unlocked the thick door with a low clunk and a groan of aged hinges.
Eryndor slowly unwrapped himself from the children's embrace. "Alright now, little ones. I need to go see a friend."
They smiled up at him, and the panther-eared boy gave a cheerful wave. "Stay safe, Mr. Eryndor!"
Eryndor nodded and stepped into the shadowed corridor beyond. The door creaked shut behind him, sealing off the warm light of the children's hall. A loud, final click echoed as it locked behind him.
He walked in silence for a while, his footsteps muffled by stone. The corridor ahead was dimmer, colder, and waiting.
A cloaked figure stood ahead in the flickering torchlight. As Eryndor approached, he didn't slow his pace.
"What seems to be the problem, Lucian?"
The man turned. His hood slipped back just slightly, revealing sharp features, and blonde hair. "The King has left the kingdom."
Eryndor's brows drew together. "The summit is today?"
"It appears so," Lucian replied quietly, his tone tight.
Eryndor exhaled slowly, his voice laced with restrained tension. "Do those bastards know about it?"
Lucian shook his head. "Not yet. Cassian hasn't told them. He wants to confirm if the defenses are in place."
"They are." Eryndor's voice was steady, but doubt flickered in his eyes. "But I don't know if they'll hold. Not with what's coming."
"That," Lucian said, "I don't know either. But it won't be long now… The Covenant makes its move when their so-called supply arrives, and they're just waiting for Cassian to inform them about the king's departure from the kingdom."
Eryndor's jaw tightened. He nodded once. "Then hold off telling them until tomorrow. Let today pass without it."
Lucian narrowed his eyes slightly. "Why wait?"
"Because of the people," Eryndor said. "We need time to prepare the knights. Let them carry the news to the rest. If word spreads too early, panic could spread with it."
Lucian's voice dropped, becoming sharper, edged with something colder. "That can't happen. Eryndor, we're talking about the Covenant. The King's orders were clear. Protect the children. Everything else… let it happen."
Eryndor's gaze flicked away, jaw clenched. He took a slow breath before speaking.
"So you're still in support of it?" There was a quiet crack in his voice — not anger, but something more dangerous: disappointment.
"Yes, I am in support of it, Eryndor," Lucian said quietly, his voice laced with a chilling realism. "The Covenant isn't posturing anymore. Their plan is clear…they intend to summon their god into our world. And from what little I've uncovered... it's not something we can allow to happen."
Eryndor's jaw clenched. He took a slow breath, trying to keep the storm within from rising. "I understand that, Lucian. I do. But we're talking about innocent lives out there. The entire Kingdom. Families. Children. It's our duty to protect them."
Lucian's eyes hardened like frost. "You should know better than to lie to yourself, Eryndor. You and I both understand how kingdoms truly rise. For a nation to become better, blood must be spilled. Some people are meant to die for the greater good."
Eryndor's gaze dropped to the stone beneath his feet. He was silent for a moment.
"If there was a way… any way at all…"
"There isn't," Lucian said sharply, almost as if he'd read the thought from Eryndor's eyes. "Not for the world we live in now. Not with what's coming. We need to move with clarity. Ready the caretakers. When the time comes, people will flood this place, whether we're prepared or not."
Eryndor looked up again, his voice quiet. "I understand. And you? I admit, I'm surprised you came all this way. Especially after what you told me about that Veilwalker..."
Lucian's expression shifted. For the first time, his cold composure cracked slightly, replaced by something like unease. "That one... he's not normal, Eryndor."
He ran a hand through his hair, as if shaking off a chill. "But what choice did I have? I had to come. I needed you to be ready."
Eryndor narrowed his eyes slightly. "And the others? The Covenant members. Won't they notice you're gone? Could they have followed you?"
Lucian scoffed softly. "Follow me? I'm a mage, Eryndor. I know how to vanish when I need to."
But then, the arrogance in his voice faded.
"Still... since that Veilwalker showed up, I don't feel safe. Not even in my own mind. It's as if he knows what I'm going to do before I do it. He nearly killed Cassian. If it weren't for Zephyr..."
Eryndor's eyes narrowed. "What happened?"
Lucian hesitated. Then spoke, his voice lower. "Cassian gave a false report. One mistake. That was all it took. The Veilwalker would have killed him on the spot…Zephyr had to step in and defend him."
A silence stretched between them. Cold. Heavy.
"This person..." Eryndor murmured, barely above a whisper.
Lucian looked away, eyes distant, like he was staring into something only he could see.
"He is not a person, Eryndor."
There was no bitterness in his voice. Just truth. A terrible, quiet truth.
Eryndor drew in a breath. "Is there any way to counter him? Defeat him?"
Lucian slowly shook his head. His voice was nearly broken when he answered. "No. Not now. The only hope we have... is that when the crisis begins, the Queen will do what must be done."
Suddenly, Lucian flinched, his breath catching. One hand flew to his temple.
"Lucian?" Eryndor stepped forward instinctively. "What is it?"
Lucian stumbled back a step, gripping the side of the corridor wall. "It's nothing...I think…something just happened…to my clone."
Eryndor's brow furrowed, concern etched deep in his features. "Should I be worried?"
Lucian shook his head, though his face was pale and his movements shaky. "No. It's not destroyed or trapped. But something's… off. I need to return. Now."
Eryndor gave a small nod, though his eyes remained watchful. "Alright. But Lucian... the news about the King must be given tomorrow. No earlier."
Lucian turned to leave, but paused, his eyes meeting Eryndor's one last time. In the crystal light, his left eye shimmered faintly — an eerie, unnatural glow stirring just beneath the surface.
"That, I can't assure you," he said at last. "But Cassian will stall. At most, they'll be told in the early hours of the morning."
"Thank you," Eryndor said softly, watching him disappear down the corridor, his footsteps fading into the silence.
After some minutes, as Lucian walked further down the corridor, the crystal lights lining the walls began to flicker faintly—like they were responding to his growing headache. His steps slowed. He stumbled slightly and caught himself against the cold stone wall.
"My clone… is it in danger? If it were, I would have noticed it."
A voice sliced through the stillness, low and chilling.
"Oh, but your clone is dead."
Lucian spun instantly, his body snapping into motion. Mana flared at his fingertips, prepared to strike.
And then he saw him.
Veilwalker.
He hadn't walked in. He hadn't emerged. He was just there — standing in the corridor, untouched by light, yet casting no true shadow. His presence didn't enter the space — it replaced it, like everything else had retreated in fear.
Lucian's vision blurred as his headache spiked, becoming a sharp, mind-splitting pain. His knees nearly gave out, but he forced himself upright.
"How… how are you here?" he managed, breathless, confused.
Veilwalker said nothing at first. His eyes glinted with dark amusement, his expression unreadable.
Then he took a single step forward.
And behind him, the crystal lights on the wall flickered harder, one of them even winked out entirely.
"So this is where the children are being kept," Veilwalker said, voice cold and effortless.
Lucian's chest tightened. His thoughts spiraled.
"Will I… die here?"
"You're scared, aren't you, Lucian?" Veilwalker murmured, like tasting the fear in the air. "I thought you were a mage."
Lucian didn't answer. The fear was real, but so was the anger boiling beneath it. He raised his hand and, with a sharp motion, unleashed a volley of mana-infused crystal shards, each one humming with lethal precision.
The air shimmered. The corridor flared with light.
But Veilwalker was no longer standing where he had been.
Lucian blinked.
The shards struck the wall—and vanished. Not shattered. Not deflected. Just… gone. Swallowed by something unseen.
Then—
Pain.
An unseen force crushed around his neck. Veilwalker was beside him, lifting him clean off the floor with one hand.
Lucian's mana flared again, but it was useless, like trying to cast inside a vacuum. His limbs thrashed, struggling, but nothing could push back the crushing weight of Veilwalker's presence.
"You're lucky I like your face," Veilwalker said, voice laced with venomous amusement. "Cassian still tolerates it. Barely."
Lucian gasped. "W-what… do you want?"
"Nothing." Veilwalker didn't blink. "I came to see where the children are. And to make sure you weren't followed."
"The children… why is he interested in them? What is he planning?"
"You're trying to guess what I'm thinking," Veilwalker said casually. "That's dangerous. You're not built for that kind of knowledge."
Lucian's eyes widened. His pulse thundered.
"Let me make this easy for you: Don't mess anything up. Do you understand?"
Without warning, he released his grip.
Lucian crumpled to the ground, coughing, breath scraping back into his lungs. The headache vanished, like it had never been there. The ache in his limbs faded instantly. But the dread? That lingered.
He looked up, voice raw. "Whose side are you on?"
Veilwalker gave him a slow, almost amused look.
"Side?"
Then, he laughed.
"Hahahahaha…"
It was a quiet laugh, not loud, but wrong. Cold. Like the sound of a blade being drawn across stone.
"Lucian," he said, softly. "I don't take sides. I follow only my master. And for now, that includes making sure you stay alive."
His voice lowered, now barely more than a whisper.
"And thank whatever thing you serve… because you just escaped your own judgment."
Lucian's face tightened. "Judgment, you say?"
"Exactly." A thin smile curved across Veilwalker's face. "You should be thanking me."
He turned to leave, steps slow and silent. His cloak dragged across the floor — but it made no sound. No echo. The corridor somehow felt colder where he had walked.
He stopped again, just before the next bend, and glanced back at Lucian.
"What are you still doing on the ground?" he asked, voice cool and mocking. "Not going to get up?"
Lucian, breath shallow, pushed himself to his feet. Mana crackled faintly around his hands, flickering like a dying flame.
Veilwalker smiled, but it wasn't comfort. It was warning.
He turned again, disappearing down the corridor.
Lucian followed — silently, cautiously — as if every step forward might be his last.