Snow whispered against the windows of the council hall, dragged by winds that howled like forgotten voices. Inside, the marble floor gleamed beneath the feet of Empire's most powerful—their gazes wary, their postures guarded. Among the seated lords and heirs, Cassian Caerwyn sat still, his expression composed as always, though tension simmered beneath the surface.
The atmosphere was electric. Wordless. Storm-bound.
He felt eyes on him—measuring, doubting, mocking. The silence cracked occasionally with mutters, but none dared raise their voice too high. Not today.
High Marshal Orven rose. "We've received troubling news from the border. Patrols found bodies—entire settlements razed, no signs of invaders. Only... remnants."
"Beasts?" asked Lord Aestis from across the hall, voice sharp with scorn.
"No. Something worse."
The room stilled.
Hidden at the edge of the chamber, masked by shadow, a figure sat in silence—anonymous, unaddressed. Cloaked, face angled downward. Few noticed him. Fewer cared. But Hadrian, veiled in his court-permitted disguise, listened.
His silver eyes were steady. Cold.
Orven continued, "There were no survivors. Those who approached the bodies before the agents could secure them... didn't return. The corpses had not decayed. They fought. They bled black."
Gasps followed. A few of the nobles visibly recoiled. The Faithborne envoy crossed himself in a prayer older than the Empire.
Cassian stiffened. Something about the report clawed at old memories.
"These are not natural occurrences," murmured the Arcanist in gold-threaded robes. "What you're describing aligns with forbidden practices—necromancy. But that hasn't been seen since the Hollow Trials."
"It's not mere necromancy," said a border agent, stepping forward with a bloodstained satchel. "These creatures... they move with purpose. They follow commands. As if trained."
A name flickered through the tension: Ashen Coil.
And with it, another whispered one—Moribrae.
Hadrian said nothing, but his hand flexed slightly beneath his sleeve. He had seen them before. He had killed them.
---
Elsewhere…
Cassian stood in a smaller war room lined with stained-glass windows. Light painted his ash-blonde hair in fractured hues. His grey-blue eyes scanned the file in his hand, features betraying nothing.
Across from him stood a tactician of the Emperor's inner circle.
"A border village was attacked two nights ago. There were no survivors. What little remains we found showed signs of blood alchemy. Controlled reanimation."
Cassian raised his eyes. "Linked to House Aestis?"
"Possibly. Nothing confirmed. Their lord denies any ties to such magic. But you know the Coil hides well."
"What is my task?"
"Reconnaissance. A quiet dispatch. You leave by dusk."
He closed the folder and turned toward the door. In the kaleidoscope of holy light, he looked like a knight sculpted from stormclouds and resolve.
And far away, behind the veil of shadows, Hadrian watched. Still unseen. Still listening.
But no longer untouched.