Warning: This chapter includes scenes of blood/gore and self-harm.
Lady
“The water stands pure now, Lady Itzli.”
Whirling around, her eyes
With an elegant motion, Lady Itzli shook away her distant thoughts and granted him a reassuring smile, the kind that momentarily made the world seem right. "Merely pondering, dear Helmar. But pray tell, where is Calan?"
Helmar hesitated, shadows of worry playing in his rich brown eyes. "He's off cleansing the blades."
Nodding in approval, Lady Itzli gracefully rose. She
With gentle precision, Helmar placed a bowl of malachite filled with crystal-clear water
Lady Itzli assumed her position and sat poised and regal before the bowl. The door creaked open to reveal Calan's hooded figure. Instantly, Helmar's protective instincts took over. "Were you seen?" he demanded, a hint of urgency in his voice.
Calan coolly lowered his hood, revealing striking amber eyes that
Lady Itzli beckoned, "The time is now." The two men nodded in agreement. From beneath his cloak, Calan produced two knives, their ornate silver sheaths adorned with black onyx and amazonite stones. Handing them to Lady Itzli, she unsheathed the dark, gleaming obsidian blades, immersing them in the clear waters of the bowl.
Calan and Helmar drew two protective circles around Lady Itzli with synchronized motions, then filled the space between the charcoal lines with arcane symbols. The room, thick with anticipation,
"We begin." Lady Itzli declared, her voice steady yet filled with anticipation. She lifted the obsidian knives from the water swiftly yet elegantly. She offered them to Calan and Helmar, who determinedly gripped their hilts.
Holding out her palms, smooth and unblemished, she braced herself. Calan and Helmar, with a look of mutual understanding, dragged the sharpened edge of the obsidian across her skin. A sharp intake of breath was the only sign of her discomfort. Blood, the rich garnet hue, flowed out, and she hurriedly
Calan and Helmar mimicked Lady Itzli's actions in a gesture of unity, drawing the blades across their left palms. They pressed their bleeding hands into the unmarked spaces within the circle.
Drawing her hands to her heart, Lady Itzli joined her fingers
The haunting melody of Lady Itzli's chant resonated throughout the chamber, each note weaving a tapestry of enchantment. Their blood stirred from the hands of the two men, taking on a life of its own. It twisted and wound away from their hands and intertwined seamlessly with the intricate charcoal symbols that adorned the chamber's floor. Their connection
Once still and clear, the water within the malachite bowl churned and whirled, the center spiraling into a vortex as if an invisible hand was stirring it, blending the elements within. A sudden gust, colder than the night's wind and silent as a specter, swept through the space. One by one, it snuffed out the candles, their wicks letting out one last feeble flicker before succumbing to the dark.
Now pulsating with the essence of blood, the infused symbols radiated a warm amber hue. Their glow intensified as they melded and merged, taking on the sinuous form of serpents. The glowing creatures inched their way beyond the protective circle with mesmerizing grace and converged on Lady Itzli.
Seamlessly, they melded onto her, their light sinking into her flesh, leaving intricate designs that
As the last of these luminous serpents bound to her, a jolt coursed through Lady Itzli. Her melodious chanting faltered, then
The candle's flame playfully flickered atop its wick, holding Mikhail captive in its mesmeric dance. A gentle yet distinct knock on his study window shattered
"What tidings do you bring?" Mikhail inquired, locking
With a flutter of its wings, the raven's back unfurled its wings and, from within, emerged the voice of Ras. As Mikhail
"Curse them!" Mikhail roared, sending a surge of blue light from his palm, hurling books from the nearest shelves in its wake.
"Troubling news, Your Grace?" A voice ventured
Mikhail's glacial gaze fell upon the tall man now entering - a man adorned with round spectacles and his sandy
"I see," the man murmured, adjusting his glasses. He extended a pile of papers toward Mikhail.
Accepting the proffered documents, Mikhail skimmed through them, a sense of urgency evident in his every movement. "The Church and
"I was aware, Your Grace. But I'm
Mikhail's expression sharpened, his fury palpable. "Explain."
"The High Priest visited shortly after the convergence
Mikhail's patience was
"Why did Silas come? And why conceal that the Holy Knights were in Zandel Forest from me?" Mikhail's voice trembled with restrained rage, growing weary of Theo's aloof demeanor.
Mikhail's eyes locked onto Theo, a turbulent mix of anger and disbelief churning within them. Part of him yearned to lash out. But the cold logic of the situation and Theo's unflappable nature
"I conveyed that your health was fragile and that you'd be entertaining no guests for some days," Theo
A smirk played on Mikhail's lips as he envisioned the haughty High Priest receiving a lesson in etiquette from someone considered beneath him.
"He departed soon after," Theo added. His gaze then
Impatient, Mikhail grabs the letter, tearing it open. His eyes scanned the brief note: well-wishes for his health, blessings
"When do you propose they visit?" Theo inquired, his acute intuition guessing the letter's contents.
"In two days," Mikhail
"Very well."
"I also want you to look into why they were
"Of course, Your Grace. If there's no other matter."
Mikhail glanced at the remaining notes Theo had handed him, thinking no other matter would draw his attention, but one word struck out before he could grant Theo his leave.
"Zoltecayans are in Aeloria?"
"Knights and guild members have reported spotting them in the city. The reason for their visit is unknown. As far as I have gathered, the Capital is unaware of their presence."
The presence of the mystic people of Zoltecaya did seem odd to Mikhail, especially their timing, but he had other matters to attend to at the moment. He gave Theo a slight nod and waved his hand to dismiss him.
As the door
"I have a task for you."
With a soft flutter, the raven alighted on his outstretched arm, ready to serve.
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