Corvus and I left The Silver Crown and navigated through Ebonheart’s awakening streets. Corvus’s murder of crows followed us from above. The crisp morning air carried hints of woodsmoke and fresh bread from nearby bakeries.

“Since we are near Evangeline’s apartment, let’s speak to her first before we see about those invitations,” I suggested, keeping my voice low.

Corvus nodded, his blindfolded face oriented forward as we walked. His favorite crow maintained its perch on his shoulder, occasionally cawing softly, as if reporting its observations.

The streets grew more crowded as we approached Evangeline’s neighborhood. Merchants were setting up their stalls, servants were running errands, and city guards patrolled in pairs, their hands never far from their weapons. The people here all gave us a wide berth, their eyes downcast, conversations dropping to whispers as we passed.

When we reached Evangeline’s building, I felt a strange tension in my chest. The memory of our last encounter—her fingers brushing against mine, the vulnerability in her eyes—threatened to distract me from my purpose. I pushed those thoughts aside. We were here for information and nothing more.

I knocked on her door with three quick raps. For a moment, there was silence. Then came the soft pad of footsteps, and the door opened.

Evangeline stood before us, already dressed in elegant attire—a long, dark-green gown that hugged her full hips and complemented her eyes, with silver threading along the hems that caught the morning light. The gown’s plunging neckline revealed the cleavage of her large breasts that strained to stay contained. She held her lyre in one hand, ready for another day of forced entertainment at the magistrate’s mansion.

“I had a feeling you’d return sooner rather than later.” She stepped aside, gesturing for us to enter. “Please, come in, my lords.”

Her apartment was much as I remembered it—modest but well-kept—however, this time, sheets of music were scattered across various surfaces. The disarray struck me immediately; it was so unlike the methodical organization I’d observed during my previous visit. Loose papers covered her small writing desk, spilled onto the floor, and even littered her bed. Some sheets bore angry scratch marks through the musical notations, while others were crumpled and then smoothed out again, as if she’d attempted to discard them but couldn’t bring herself to do so.

The chaos felt wrong here, like a discordant note in what should have been a perfectly composed melody. I could sense her unease. Evangeline struck me as someone who found comfort in structure and order, much like myself. This scattered disarray spoke of mounting pressure and growing desperation, the careful walls of her controlled life beginning to crack under the strain of whatever dark purpose the magistrate had planned for her.

“We need to discuss the magistrate’s upcoming gathering,” I said, getting straight to the point. “Particularly the nature of the performances he demands.”

Evangeline’s expression tightened slightly. She set down her lyre, moved to a small table and began gathering scattered music sheets. “The performances... they’ve been growing stranger. More specific. He demands certain songs, certain harmonies. The monthly grand court has always featured performances, but this time...” She hesitated, her hands trembling slightly.

“Go on,” I encouraged, keeping my voice neutral despite the anger building inside me at her obvious distress.

“This time, he’s been having us practice in the mansion’s lower levels. There’s a room down there, a private chamber... the acoustics are unlike anything I’ve ever encountered. When I perform, the sounds seem to... resonate. Like they’re being absorbed by the very walls. He insists this performance must be perfect—more so than any other court gathering before.”

“He makes all the bards perform together in this chamber?” I asked.

She shook her head. “For now, we have been performing individually. In the private chamber, there’s a specific spot where I must stand—a circle with strange symbols carved into the floor and walls. If I move even slightly from that position, he becomes... angry. More angry than usual.”

I scowled. The dark veins beneath my skin pulsed with rage. The thought of her alone with that creature made my blood boil.

“Those symbols you mentioned… Can you describe what they look like?” Corvus asked.

She thought for a moment and then sighed. “I wish I could remember. The symbols were so abstract, it almost felt like trying to decipher a foreign language.”

Corvus rubbed his chin. “It could very well be a foreign language. Perhaps, an ancient language…” He turned to me. “Ramon mentioned something about it in his journal, did he not, brother?”

“Yes, something of the sort…” I said in an absent tone. Though my mind was currently elsewhere, focused on the rage that flared in my chest. Not only was Evangeline practically a slave to this magistrate, she was also being exposed to potentially dangerous magical symbols. I felt so helpless that I couldn’t save her sooner, but I forced myself to maintain a calm exterior. Taking a slow, measured breath, I steeled myself for what I needed to ask next.

“Tell me more about what happens during these… private sessions,” I said, my voice tight.

She chewed her bottom lip. “He… seems to take particular interest in my performances,” she continued, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “The way he watches me... it’s like he’s not just listening to the music. Like he’s looking for something else.”

My hands tightened into fists at my sides. Corvus tilted his head slightly in my direction, no doubt noting my reaction despite his blindfold. His subtle movement served as a reminder to maintain control, though at that moment, all I wanted to do was storm the mansion and tear the magistrate apart with my bare hands.

“He’s been very specific about the musical arrangement,” Evangeline continued. “It’s an untitled piece he composed himself. There’s something wrong about the music. The notes... they don’t follow any natural progression.”

“And the other bards? Do they play this same arrangement?” I asked.

Evangeline shook her head. “No, however, the magistrate has composed special pieces for them as well. We are forbidden to play any of it outside the chambers, or it will mean a severe punishment.” She pursed her lips. “It seems the magistrate is attuned to these specific compositions, because he knows if someone has been playing them.”

“Could you describe the compositions without actually playing them?”

She looked up at me with fear-filled green eyes. “They’re... discordant. The harmonies clash in ways that shouldn’t be possible, yet somehow they create patterns. When all the bards play together during the monthly court, the sounds seem to weave together like... like threads of chaos.”

“And how does the magistrate react to this?”

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“He becomes almost transfixed. Sometimes, when the music reaches certain passages, his form seems to... shift, somehow. Like looking at a reflection in troubled water. I don’t know how else to explain it. And the air in the chamber feels heavy with something that feels ancient and wrong.” She shuddered.

The description aligned too perfectly with Ramon’s journal entries about resonance and vessels. It seemed the magistrate was conducting some kind of dark attunement. “How many bards in total will perform?” I asked.

“Thirteen. The magistrate hand-selects them. The rest remain trapped within the city walls, unable to leave, and waiting to be called upon when he requires their talents.”

Thirteen bards… The number couldn’t be coincidental. Many dark and forbidden rituals involved the number thirteen, as it represented power. Combined with what I’d discovered in Ramon’s journal, this only confirmed my suspicions about the magistrate’s true intentions. And Evangeline is being used as some kind of mystical conduit, I thought, feeling the darkness within me surge with protective fury.

“I… was one of the thirteen chosen for his grand ceremony,” she continued in a grim tone. “He… He said I had the perfect resonance…”

“Perfect resonance,” I repeated, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “What did he mean by that?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. However, I’ve noticed after I have performed, I experience strange sensations. Like something is trying to attune itself to my very being.” She wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to ward off an unseen chill. “Sometimes I hear things… echoes of sounds that shouldn’t exist. And when I sleep...” She trailed off, her green eyes distant.

“What happens when you sleep?” I pressed, stepping closer to her.

“Dreams. Terrible dreams of vast, dark spaces filled with discordant music. Of shadows that move like living things, reaching for me with clawed hands.”

Corvus tilted his head upwards, a gesture I had come to recognize as him trying to remember something specific. “These dreams… When did they begin?”

“Shortly after my first private performance.” Evangeline stared down at her hands, which were trembling slightly. “At first, I thought it was just the stress, the fear of what might happen if I failed to meet the magistrate’s expectations. But now...” She gestured to the scattered music sheets around the room. “I can’t get the melodies out of my head. They’re changing me, somehow. Changing all of us.”

I glanced over at Corvus, who still appeared contemplative. The magistrate’s actions went beyond simple corruption or political maneuvering. “Corvus and I plan to attend this gathering,” I said to her.

“The guest list is strictly controlled,” Evangeline warned. “The magistrate personally approves each attendee.”

“Leave that to us,” I assured her. “But it would be helpful if you could tell us about the mansion’s layout. Particularly the lower chambers where you perform.”

She nodded once and fished through her scattered music sheets until she found a blank piece of parchment. With quick, precise strokes, she sketched out a rough map. “The main entrance leads to the grand hall, where most of the gathering will take place,” she explained. “But the actual performance happens here.” She pointed to a spot on the map. “The chamber is circular. There are thirteen spots on the floor, which are marked with the strange symbols I mentioned. The magistrate has been… obsessive about the arrangement.”

“Do the spots on the floor form a particular shape?”

She thought for a moment, then blinked in realization. “Now that you mention it… yes, there is a definite pattern.” She retrieved another blank parchment and began to draw. “It’s something like… this.”

I watched as she drew a series of dots connected by lines. The pattern she created was hauntingly familiar. It matched one of the diagrams I’d seen in Ramon’s journal, as well as posted on the wall of his chambers.

“Show me the image, brother,” Corvus said.

I studied the diagram, then took Corvus’s hand and guided it over the pattern Evangeline had drawn. His fingers traced each line, following the connections between the points. Suddenly, his body went rigid, and even through his blindfold, I could see the color drain from his face.

“What is it?” I asked quietly, noting his reaction.

Corvus withdrew his hand as if the parchment had burned him. The crow on his shoulder ruffled its feathers and let out a distressed caw. “This pattern...” he began, then fell silent, his lips pressed into a thin line.

I watched him carefully, recognizing that whatever knowledge he possessed about this symbol deeply disturbed him. His usual composure had cracked, if only slightly, and that alone was cause for concern.

“Is something wrong?” Evangeline asked, looking between us with growing anxiety.

“No,” Corvus said too quickly, his voice unusually strained. “The arrangement is... interesting.” He turned his blindfolded face towards the window, but I noticed his hands were trembling slightly.

I made a mental note to question Corvus about it when we were alone. “Are there other entrances to this chamber besides the main stairs?” I asked her, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

“Two that I know of.” She marked them on the map. “A private passage that the magistrate uses, and a servant’s entrance near the back. Both are heavily guarded.”

I committed the layout to memory, already planning potential strategies. “What about the guards? Their patterns, their numbers?”

“During normal days, there are always at least four guards stationed outside the chamber. But during the monthly courts, security is much tighter. The magistrate usually recruits additional forces from outside the city.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Like mercenaries?”

“Perhaps. But there is something different about them. Something… unnatural.”

“Of course,” I said. “Unnatural beings to match the magistrate’s persona. Do you know who is on the guest list for the upcoming gathering?”

“The magistrate has been extremely particular about the guest list. All of Ebonheart’s nobility will be there, of course, like the merchant princes, the guild masters, and anyone else with wealth or influence. But...” She frowned. “He also has his exclusions.”

“Such as?”

Evangeline moistened her lips. “Several of the city’s religious leaders, for one. And some of the more... traditionally minded council members. He is carefully curating a specific audience.”

“What about the thieves’ guilds? Surely they would have an invitation, being the eyes and ears of the city.”

She shook her head. “There are a few guilds in the city, and none are invited. The Angels’ Mark is the largest guild and operates from somewhere in the Lower Warren. They’ve been... unsettled by the magistrate’s influence. Their territory has been shrinking, their operations disrupted. I’ve overheard chatter during my performances at the Crimson Veil that they’re planning something, though I don’t know what.”

Corvus slowly made his way to the door. “We should investigate these rumors. The guilds might have valuable information about the magistrate’s true nature, which may help us find a way to stop whatever dark ritual he’s planning. Let us make haste, brother.”

I began to follow him to the door, then stopped and looked over my shoulder at Evangeline. She stood watching me with those piercing green eyes. Before I could speak, she swept over to me and took my hand in both of hers. Her touch was warm and gentle—so different from the cold power that usually coursed through my veins.

“Be careful, my lord,” she whispered.

I squeezed her hand, feeling an unfamiliar warmth spread through my chest. “It’s Caelum.”

“Lord Caelum…” She inclined her head.

I smiled slightly. The title has a nice ring to it, so I didn’t bother correcting her further. “I swear to you, Evangeline. I will find a way to end this chaos and free you from this nightmare.”

Her eyes softened. Before I could react, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to my cheek. The kiss was brief and gentle, but it sent electricity through my entire body. I inhaled her scent of lavender and parchment, and my heart thumped. For a moment, the world froze.

I pulled back slightly, struggling to maintain my composure. My training had never prepared me for this kind of... connection. It was dangerous, potentially compromising. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to reject it entirely. I had to control these emotions. I had to master it.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her breath warm against my skin.

I nodded once, not trusting myself to speak further, and followed Corvus out into the hallway. My cheek still tingled where her soft lips had touched it.

Once we were outside in the street, Corvus turned to me. “Your attachment to the bard grows stronger,” he observed, his tone carefully neutral.

“It won’t interfere with the mission,” I said firmly, trying to convince more myself than Corvus.

“Won’t it?” his crow shifted on his shoulder, its dark eyes studying me. “The sound of your fast heartbeat is deafening. Emotions can be dangerous tools, brother. They can cloud judgment and lead to… mistakes.”

I squared my shoulders and lifted my head high. “I assure you, I am in full control of my emotions. They serve me, not the other way around.”

“And yet your heart beats differently in her presence. Your breathing changes. Your voice carries a different tone.” He shook his head. “Be careful, Caelum. The path we walk leaves little room for such... attachments.”

“I know what I am,” I said coldly. “And what I must become. Evangeline is an asset, nothing more.” The words felt hollow even as I spoke them.

Corvus was silent for a long moment, then nodded. “As you say. Let us hope, for your sake, your conviction remains as strong when tested.” He turned and began walking towards the Lower Warren. “Come. The Angels’ Mark awaits.”