The cathedral loomed in the moonlight.
Silent. Ancient. Hollowed by years of prayers.
Inside, Rowan waited, confident.
Guards hidden behind pillars.
Ropes and chains ready.
A trap. Perfectly set.
Aren approached with Lysa, Caelis, and Tom.
No banners. No guards.
Just shadows.
Just silence.
Rowan stepped forward.
"Valewood," he called.
Voice steady.
But eyes betrayed worry.
"You've caused enough chaos."
Aren bowed slightly.
"Chaos? Or order misunderstood?"
Rowan scowled.
"Step inside. Alone," he ordered.
Lysa stepped forward.
"Alone?" she whispered to Aren.
"Yes. He thinks he controls this."
Aren walked into the cathedral.
Echoing footsteps.
No traps visible.
All silent.
Rowan smiled thinly.
Chains rattled in hidden corners.
A guard signaled.
Suddenly, shadows moved.
From behind pillars.
From hidden staircases.
Aren's men, disguised, surrounded the cathedral quietly.
Rowan's eyes widened.
"This isn't…"
Aren's hand raised.
"Checkmate," he said softly.
The prince realized too late.
Aren controlled the streets.
The alleys.
The whispers.
The minds of men loyal and fearful alike.
Rowan's gamble had failed.
And the Shadow Army had won the first true victory inside Greyhaven.
Outside, Lysa extinguished the torches silently.
The city slept unaware.
But the power had shifted.
Aren looked down at Rowan.
"Fear is a blade," he said.
"And now, it belongs to me."