Secrets and the Duke Departure.
Otherside of city.
Beyond the ruins on the periphery of Silver City, there was movement in the shadows under the pale, dying moon.
The ground there was lost to time — ancient stone consumed by centuries, vines writ across fractured archways, runes so worn that even the boldest scholars were wary of getting them wrong. The air was quiet, too quiet — the kind that was almost un-natural.
Three individuals stood amidst a half-destroyed courtyard. They were dressed in cumbersome black cloaks with deep hoods that could cover their faces, the very contours of their bodies hidden by magic. The tallest person among them held a grand staff of obsidian-black wood that glowed with blue veins of mana — like a stream of living water coursing through its surface.
The one to her left broke the silence, voice low and impatient. "We still haven't found the artifact, Priestess. We've searched every known chamber."
