The duke's mansion was quiet in a way that felt unnatural, as if the air itself refused to move. Arven and Elara walked through the long corridor leading to the duke's office, their footsteps echoing far louder than they should have. The heavy curtains muted most of the afternoon light, casting everything in cold blue shadows. It was the kind of silence that suggested the house was waiting for something to be said. Or confessed.
Elara walked beside him with her hands clasped in front of her; her expression tight, shoulders tense. Arven could feel the same unease churning inside him, but he knew words spoken at the wrong moment could make everything worse. Since returning from the Void, neither of them had rested. Not physically. Not mentally.
Especially not with the creature's whisper still lingering at the back of his mind.
They stopped before the large wooden door of the office. Arven raised his hand to knock, but the moment his knuckles were about to touch, the door opened on its own with a soft creak.
Duke Dusk was already inside, seated behind his desk. His posture was rigid, almost statuesque. His hair, streaked with gray, contrasted with his dark eyes, which seemed to see far too much.
"Come in," he said. His voice wasn't loud, yet it carried an authority that offered no room for hesitation.
Elara drew a deep breath. Arven stepped inside first.
The office was vast, lined with shelves of ancient books, maps stitched with arcane symbols, floating candles, and shimmering instruments that hummed softly with magical energy. It felt less like a room and more like the lair of someone who had spent a lifetime dealing with secrets he wished he could forget.
"Sit."
They obeyed.
The silence settled immediately.
"You said there was something urgent to report about today's training," the duke began. "Something that occurred in the Void. I want to hear everything."
Arven and Elara exchanged a brief look. It was time.
Elara started speaking first, her voice low.
"Something was waiting for us. I don't know what it was, but it wasn't a standard Void manifestation. It was aware. It watched us."
Arven added, his tone sharper than he intended:
"It watched very closely."
The duke leaned forward slightly. Not surprised. Concerned.
Arven continued.
"During the ritual, when Elara channelled her star mana to stabilize the opening, something emerged from the liquid shadows. It was a presence that didn't feel like it belonged there. Not even to the Void."
He paused, feeling his heartbeat tighten.
"A creature appeared."
Elara shivered. Her fingers squeezed together.
"It wanted something inside me," she said. "It said it wanted my star mana."
The duke did not flinch, but Arven caught the tension tightening in his jaw.
"Star mana," the duke repeated slowly, as if tasting a forbidden word.
Arven pressed on.
"Elara was losing strength fast. The creature moved toward her, and I... I did what I could. I forced the ritual to redirect. Pulled it toward me. Away from her."
The memory crashed into him — the burning, the blinding light, the sensation of being torn apart and stitched back together by something that should not exist.
"I sacrificed myself during the ritual," Arven explained. "I let it latch onto me. And now..."
He pulled up his sleeve.
The tribal mark covered the entire length of his arm — swirling, twisting lines that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat. It wasn't ink. It wasn't a tattoo. It was alive. The shadows within the lines shifted for a brief moment, like a creature rolling beneath the surface of his skin.
Elara looked away; it was too unsettling to stare at for long.
The duke finally leaned back in his chair.
"So," he murmured, "it resides in you now."
Arven nodded.
"Yes. It's bound to me through the ritual. Through blood."
Silence again. The duke's eyes sharpened.
This time, Arven sensed it clearly: fear. Deep, restrained fear.
"Did you understand anything about its intentions?" the duke asked.
Elara answered:
"It kept saying it needed the star mana. That it was the key. But we don't know what that means."
The duke closed his eyes briefly, calculating something.
"Star mana does not naturally manifest in someone your age," he said. "Not without lineage. Not without a trigger. There are bloodlines with fragments of it, but…" He stopped himself. A heavy pause fell over the room.
Arven noticed instantly.
He was hiding something.
"You seem to know what it means," Arven said.
The duke looked away.
"I have theories."
It was a lie. A clean, practiced lie.
But before Arven or Elara could press him, the duke extended his hand.
"Let me see the mark again."
Arven offered his arm. The blue flame of the floating candles reflected across the twisting lines, making them ripple like liquid. For a split second, something inside the mark formed — an eye, or perhaps a mouth — before sinking back into the pattern.
Elara inhaled sharply.
The duke's hand froze before touching the mark.
"This is no ordinary curse," he said quietly. "This is conscious binding. An involuntary pact."
Arven nodded.
"I know. I hear it sometimes. Whispering. Calling."
The duke closed his eyes.
"Dangerous."
Silence wrapped around the room.
Then footsteps echoed in the corridor outside.
Slow. Controlled. Steady.
Arven felt it before he saw her. A shift in the air. A pressure in his chest. Elara turned toward him, sensing the sudden tension in his posture.
The door opened without being fully touched.
And Arelia Shisui stepped inside.
Her short black hair framed her face in wild, sharp lines, and her eyes — the same shape as Arven's, but darker, colder, vertical like those of a predator — sliced through the dim light. Her presence was not loud. She didn't need to speak for the entire room to change around her.
Her arrival wasn't an entrance.
It was an event.
The duke straightened immediately, instinctively.
Arelia's gaze moved to Arven first. She didn't look at him like a brother. She looked at him like someone evaluating a dangerous artifact that might explode.
Her eyes slid to the mark.
Something darkened in her expression.
Then she faced the duke.
Her voice was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that came before a storm.
"Do not tell anyone that Arven is a Shisui."
The air froze.
"Not the Council. Not your allies. Not the staff in this mansion." She stepped forward. "If that name leaves this room, there will be consequences. Do you understand, Duke Dusk?"
The duke swallowed, visibly shaken.
Arelia continued, her eyes glinting with predatory certainty:
"The Shisui may be few. But we still shape the fate of humanity."