The council square was a theater of marble and pride. Statues of old kings loomed above the steps, their gazes carved into stone permanence. Nobles filled the balconies that overlooked the plaza, their jeweled robes fluttering in the breeze. Merchants crowded below, guarded by soldiers with steel at the ready.
It was here, where Midgar believed itself untouchable, that Kael chose to strike.
Selene had burned her pawns on these very steps days before, branding him as a devourer of innocents. Tonight, he would erase her narrative.
Kael crouched in the bell tower across from the plaza, cloak blending into the shadows. The Eye of Dusk pulsed steadily against his chest, its whispers low, eager.
He whispered back: "Arise."
Shadows unfurled, slipping across rooftops, slithering under wagons, pooling beneath the boots of nobles. Dozens of his legion spread silently through the square, unseen, waiting.
Kael's violet eyes narrowed. The stage is set.
Inside the hall, the council convened. Torches lit the chamber, their flames casting long shadows across the pillars. Selene Varadis sat among the nobles, her silver hair bound neatly, her expression cool as frost.
The head councilor pounded his staff against the floor. "We cannot ignore this menace any longer! The so-called Monarch must be hunted. His crimes—"
Selene's voice cut in, smooth and sharp. "The Monarch thrives on rumor. On fear. He grows in the dark. We must act decisively, before his shadows swallow the city."
Nods rippled through the chamber.
From the balcony, Kael listened, unseen, his lips curving faintly. Perfect. You sharpen the blade for me.
Kael raised his hand. Shadows across the square surged.
The torches sputtered. Darkness crawled up the marble walls like ink, swallowing light. Gasps echoed. Guards drew blades.
And then, from the center of the square, three figures were dragged into view by tendrils of violet flame. Nobles recoiled as the prisoners were lifted high for all to see.
Kael's voice rolled across the square, deep and steady, amplified by the Veil itself.
"These are no innocents. These are the true servants of the Cult."
The prisoners screamed, their cloaks tearing away. Crimson tattoos pulsed on their flesh, glowing in the darkness. Their eyes flickered unnaturally, vessels barely holding form.
The crowd erupted in panic. Some shouted curses, others fled. The councilors leaned forward, shock rippling through their ranks.
Kael's tone sharpened. "The Hand of the Veil paints me as a monster. Yet it is she who burns her own pawns in fire, while her cult feasts upon this city's blood."
He extended his arm. Shadows constricted. The three prisoners convulsed, their bodies unraveling into ash that scattered into the wind.
Silence followed. Thick. Heavy.
"Look upon the truth," Kael said. "And remember: shadows do not lie."
The silence shattered with Selene's voice.
"You dare twist this stage to your ends!" She stepped forward, her crimson blade flashing as she pointed it toward the square. Her silver hair gleamed like fire in the torchlight, her eyes alight with fury.
"He is no savior," she declared. "He is a deceiver. The Monarch orchestrates this display to make you doubt your eyes. He summons lies in flesh and burns them to ash!"
Her words carried force. The council wavered, their certainty shaken.
Kael felt the shift. Selene was skilled. She was turning his truth into illusion, bending perception even as he revealed her pawns.
But Kael was not done.
He whispered, and his shadows dragged forth a final figure.
From beneath the square, a man was hauled into the open—gagged, bound, but very much alive. His cloak bore the crimson of the Cult, his skin etched with fading runes. Unlike the others, his eyes were wide with fear, not fanatic resolve.
Kael's voice cut through the rising noise.
"This one will not burn himself to ash for her."
He gestured. Shadows pulled the gag away.
The man gasped, shaking violently. "I—I served the Veil! I obeyed the Hand—Lady Varadis herself! She commanded us to frame the Monarch, to—"
His words ended in a scream.
Selene's blade flicked, faster than sight. A crimson arc shot across the square, severing his throat before the sentence could finish. The man collapsed, blood pooling across the marble.
Gasps erupted. Nobles cried out.
Kael's voice rang cold, unflinching.
"Truth silenced is still truth. And the blood on these steps belongs not to me… but to her."
Selene stood frozen, her blade dripping scarlet, her mask cracking under the eyes of hundreds.
The council erupted into chaos.
Kael let the uproar grow, the panic spread. His shadows withdrew like waves receding into the ocean. By the time the torches flared back to life, he was gone, leaving only the echo of his words and the corpse of Selene's silenced pawn.
From the rooftop of the bell tower, Kael watched the chaos unfold. Nobles fled. Guards scrambled. Selene stood rigid, her silver hair disheveled, her composure cracking.
Kael whispered to himself, calm, inevitable.
"You chose the stage, Hand of the Veil. But it will be remembered as mine."
Far above, crimson eyes gleamed with amusement.
Cid chuckled, leaning back on his perch. "Exposing cultists, dragging witnesses into the square, forcing her to spill blood in front of everyone…"
He grinned wide, teeth flashing.
"That was perfect. This isn't just shadow-play anymore. This is theater."
His laughter rolled across the rooftops, unheard by all but the night.