A persistent knocking dragged me from the depths of sleep. My head felt heavy, and my muscles ached pleasantly from last night’s meeting with Evangeline. I tried to ignore the intrusion and buried my face deeper into my pillow.
“Caelum!” Corvus’s voice cut through my drowsy haze. “Wake up! It’s urgent!”
The sharp edge in his tone finally penetrated my groggy mind. I groaned and pushed myself up, the blankets falling away from my bare chest. The cool morning air raised goosebumps on my skin.
“Ugh… coming,” I called out, my voice still rough with sleep. The knocking continued as I swung my legs over the side of the bed.
“Hurry up!” Corvus barked through the door.
I stumbled around the room in my smallclothes, searching for my leather pants. My foot caught on something—probably one of my boots—and I cursed under my breath. Finally locating my pants, I struggled to pull them on while maintaining my balance.
“Hold on, damn it!” I growled as Corvus’s knocking grew more insistent.
Once I had my pants secured, though still shirtless, I yanked open the door. “What in the hells is going on?”
Corvus stood there in his usual black attire, his favorite crow perched on his shoulder. Without waiting for an invitation, he strode into my room. Despite his blindness, he moved with practiced ease, avoiding the furniture and clutter with uncanny precision.
“We need to talk,” he said in a bitter tone.
I narrowed my eyes. “Talk about what?”
Corvus turned to face me, and though I couldn’t see his eyes behind the blindfold, I felt the weight of his attention. “You know exactly what.”
My blood ran cold as I remembered the crow I’d seen outside Evangeline’s apartment. So he’d been using his damn birds to keep tabs on me after all. I kept my voice carefully neutral. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Caelum.” Corvus’s voice carried a sharp edge. “My crows do not miss much.”
“Your fucking crows. You’re using them to spy on me now? You don’t trust me?”
“Trust?” Corvus scoffed. “This isn’t about trust, brother. It’s about judgment. We’re on the verge of confronting an ancient evil, and you’re letting yourself be distracted by that damned bard. A bard who, need I remind you, is one of the very souls we’re trying to save from the magistrate’s ritual. Your involvement with her risks everything we’ve worked for.”
I moved to my discarded shirt hanging on the back of a chair and slipped it on, using the moment to compose my thoughts. “I understand the risks better than you think,” I replied.
“Do you?” Corvus’s tone was skeptical. “Because from where I stand, you’re letting your desires cloud your judgment. The bard—”
“Evangeline,” I corrected sharply.
“Fine. Evangeline.” He spat the name like it left a bitter taste. “She’s a distraction you can’t afford right now. Not with tonight’s ritual approaching.”
I slipped on my boots, donned my armor, and buckled on my weapon belt. The familiar weight of the Talons of Twilight at my hips provided some comfort. “She’s not a distraction. She’s an asset.”
Corvus laughed, but there was no humor in it. “An asset? Is that what you told yourself while you fucked her?”
My hand instinctively went to one of my kukris, but I forced myself to remain calm. “Watch yourself, Corvus.”
“Or what?” His head inclined in that knowing way again. “You’ll strike me down for speaking the truth? You’re developing feelings for her, Caelum. And feelings are dangerous in our line of work.”
“No,” I said, though something twisted uncomfortably in my chest. “This is about power and control. Nothing more.”
“Is it?” Corvus moved closer. “Listen to me carefully. I’ve walked this path longer than you have. I’ve seen what happens when darkness tries to dance with light. It never ends well. Either the darkness corrupts the light, or the light burns away the darkness. There is no middle ground.”
“You’re wrong,” I insisted, moving away from him and to the window. The morning sun was just beginning to peek over the city’s rooftops, casting long shadows across Ebonheart’s streets. “Evangeline understands the path I walk. And she’s chosen to walk it with me.”
“Has she? Or has she simply convinced herself she can change you? These virtuous types always think they can ‘save’ us from ourselves.”
I spun and faced him, rage building in my chest. “You don’t know shit about her.”
“I know her type. The noble bard, fighting against corruption with her songs of rebellion.” He gestured dismissively. “How long before she realizes that you’re not just fighting corruption, but embracing a different kind of darkness? How long before her ‘unconditional’ love faces its first real test?”
His words stirred uncomfortable thoughts in my mind. I pushed them aside, focusing instead on my anger. “You’re just bitter because you’ve never known that kind of devotion.”
The moment the words left my mouth, I knew I’d struck a nerve. Corvus went very still, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. His head tilted upward slightly, as though he were looking down his nose me.
“You think I don’t know about devotion? The blindfold I wear isn’t just for show, Caelum. I gave up my sight in a pact with a fiend to gain power—sacrificed my ability to see beauty, to witness the sunrise, to look upon the faces of those I care about. Yet even after that dark bargain, I remain devoted to our brotherhood and our cause. Don’t lecture me about devotion.”
I felt a twinge of shame, but my pride wouldn’t let me back down. “Then you should understand. Evangeline has shown similar dedication. She risks her life every time she sings those rebellious songs. She—”
“She sings!” Corvus interrupted with a harsh laugh. “While we bleed and kill and sacrifice, she sings pretty songs about rebellion. Such sacrifice indeed.”
“Her songs give people hope,” I argued.
“Hope?” Corvus spat the word like poison. “Hope is a luxury we can’t afford. We blackguards deal in certainties—in power and control. The moment you start believing in hope is the moment you begin to lose your edge. And in our world, that loss can be fatal.”
“Evangeline has sworn herself to me—to my cause.”
“And what exactly is your cause these days, Caelum?” Corvus’s question cut deep. “Are you still serving Valic’s will, or are you serving your own desires?”
I glared at him.”My loyalty to Valic has never wavered.”
“Is that so?” Corvus moved to stand directly in front of me. “Then tell me this—if Valic commanded you to sacrifice her for the greater cause, could you do it? Could you plunge your blade into her heart and watch the light fade from her eyes?”
The image his words conjured made my stomach turn. I pushed past him, needing space to breathe. “That won’t happen.”
“You can’t know that.” Corvus’s voice followed me. “We serve powers beyond our understanding. Sometimes they demand sacrifices we’re not prepared to make. That’s why attachment is dangerous. It makes us weak and vulnerable.”
“Enough!” I spun around, my patience finally snapping. “You’ve made your point. But Evangeline is mine now, and nothing is going to change that. Either accept it, or—”
“Or what?” Corvus challenged. “You’ll choose her over everything we’ve worked for? Including your destiny?”
My destiny… My thoughts drifted back to that pivotal moment in the void, when Valic had first appeared to me. The crushing darkness, the burning red eyes, the offer of power and purpose when I had nothing left to lose.
I remembered the weight of his presence, how his words had resonated with truth about the corruption I’d fought against. He had shown me a different path—not the rigid, hypocritical justice I’d served before, but true order through strength and dominion.
Yet standing here now, I wondered if I truly understood his meaning about the destiny he had envisioned for me. Was I meant to be merely his servant, carrying out his will without question? Or was there a greater purpose that I failed to grasp?
The dark power flowing through my veins pulsed in response to these thoughts. I had changed so much since arriving in Aetheria. Each step along this path had transformed me, stripped away my former weaknesses while awakening new strengths.
But Evangeline... she awakened something else in me. Not weakness, as Corvus claimed, but a different kind of power. The power of willing devotion, of loyalty freely given rather than coerced through fear.
Could this possibly be my destiny? I mused. To command not just through strength and domination, but through a darker kind of love? To inspire others to willingly embrace the shadows, as Evangeline had done?
Perhaps this was also another way to serve Valic’s will, aside from force and fear, but through coercion, seduction, and willing submission. Evangeline’s songs already held power over people’s hearts and minds. Under my guidance, that influence could be harnessed to Valic’s purposes.
I imagined her performing not just songs of rebellion, but darker melodies that would weave Valic’s influence into the very fabric of society. Each performance would plant subtle seeds of corruption, spreading the Dread Lord’s power like a sweet poison through wine.
And she would do it willingly, eagerly even, out of devotion to me. That was a power even Corvus, for all his experience, didn’t seem to understand—the strength that came from willing service, from loyalty born of dark love rather than fear alone.
Through Evangeline, I could create a new kind of order—one built on seduction rather than just subjugation. Wasn’t that a more perfect form of control? A more complete victory for our cause?
I pushed these thoughts aside and returned my attention to Corvus. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a blade. We stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills, until finally, Corvus conceded with a heavy sigh.
“Look. We don’t have time for this,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “The magistrate’s gathering is tonight, and there are still preparations to be made.”
I recognized the olive branch for what it was and forced myself to relax. “You’re right. What’s our status?”
“I have heard murmurs in town about the gathering slated to extend into the late-night hours. Based on Ramon’s explanations, I presume the magistrate will be performing the ritual around midnight.”
“Seems like an appropriate time to steal souls,” I said, attempting a bit of dark humor to further cut away the tension that still lingered in the room.
“Yes. But there’s something else you should know. My crows have spotted increased guard activity around the mansion’s perimeter. He’s brought in additional forces—professionals, not just the usual city watch.”
I frowned. “Mercenaries?”
“Worse. Hellguards. Elite warriors bound by infernal contracts. They won’t break ranks nor flee, no matter what happens.”
“Damn,” I muttered. “That complicates things. How many?”
“My crows detected at least a dozen outside. There are possibly more inside the mansion itself.”
“Do you think they’re meant for us?” I asked, my tactical mind already working on solutions.
“I think they’re meant for uninvited guests. Fortunately…” Corvus reached into his cloak. “I have these.” He produced two ornate invitations, their edges trimmed in gold. “The Angels’ Mark kept their word.”
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I took one of the invitations and examined the elaborate calligraphy. “Natalya’s work?”
“Her best forger. They’re perfect replicas, down to the magistrate’s personal seal.”
“You know,” I mused. “The magistrate never actually said we weren’t invited. He could very well be expecting us. These fake invitations might as well be worthless.”
“Not so,” Corvus assured, shaking his head. “If the magistrate really is a fiend in disguise, then like most infernal creatures, he is hiding his true intentions in plain sight. These beings delight in complex games of deception. Every word, every gesture is calculated to guide us down a specific path.
“You have to learn how to listen carefully to his words, Caelum. He has laid out a delicate trap, expecting us to react exactly as blackguards typically would—with force and aggression. Sneaking in unannounced would get us snagged in his web before we even realized it.
“But if we play by his rules, if we appear to dance to his tune while carefully watching our steps, we will get closer to our goal. The fiend believes itself clever enough to anticipate our every move. It expects us to eventually see through its charade and deviate from the invisible path it has set before us.”
“So we outwit it by pretending ignorance?” I asked.
“Precisely. Though it won’t be simple. The fiend knows we’re intelligent enough to unravel its scheme. This will become a deadly game of deception—it knowing that we know, us knowing that it knows we know—layers upon layers of carefully crafted pretense. One misstep, one crack in our façade, and the game is lost.
“We cannot afford to lose this battle of wits, brother. The stakes are far too high. We must be more patient, more cunning than the fiend expects. Let it think its trap is working perfectly, right until the moment we spring our own.”
I stood there for a moment, letting Corvus’s explanation sink in. Despite our earlier argument about Evangeline, I had to marvel at his tactical brilliance. This was why he was so valuable to the brotherhood. His ability to see through deception, even without physical sight, was uncanny.
Everything had made perfect sense. The magistrate’s carefully worded invitations, the obvious placement of guards, even the theatrical nature of the gathering itself—it was all an elaborate performance designed to guide us down a predetermined path. And we had nearly fallen for it, ready to storm in like typical blackguards, exactly as the fiend expected.
Even the magistrate’s eagerness to give us that grand tour of the mansion now seemed suspect. What kind of ruler shows potential threats the exact layout of their stronghold, including the very chamber where they plan to conduct their sinister deeds? The magistrate had practically mapped out our invasion route for us, pointing out key locations with an almost smug confidence. At the time, I had attributed it to arrogance, but now I recognized it for what it was—careful manipulation. He wanted us to come through those routes, had probably prepared countermeasures for every approach he’d so graciously revealed.
A master strategist didn’t just anticipate their enemy’s moves, they guided them, subtly herding their opponents exactly where they wanted them. The magistrate wasn’t just expecting an attack; he was orchestrating how it would unfold.
I stared at Corvus with newfound respect. He was truly wise beyond his years. While I had been focused on immediate threats and personal desires, he had already seen the bigger picture, understanding the subtle interplay of deception and counter-deception that defined this deadly game.
His blindness was truly a gift from the shadows. In losing his physical sight, he had gained the ability to see through lies and manipulation with extraordinary clarity. While others were dazzled by superficial appearances, Corvus perceived the hidden currents of power and intention that lay beneath.
I felt somewhat humbled by his intuition. Despite my earlier defensiveness about Evangeline, I had to acknowledge that Corvus’s concerns came from a place of deep understanding and experience. He wasn’t just my brother in arms, he was my mentor in many ways—even more so than Malachai—helping me navigate the treacherous waters of power and destiny.
“I can’t believe it,” I said, the revelation leaving me in awe. “How did you come to understand their ways so deeply, brother?”
Corvus’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “When you make a pact with a fiend, you learn their nature whether you want to or not. Every interaction becomes a lesson in their twisted logic, their love of rules and loopholes.” He absently touched his blindfold. “My blindness wasn’t just the price of power, it was an education in how they think.”
“That is… truly fascinating.”
“Many blackguards who walk the darker paths eventually encounter these beings. Some, like me, make bargains. Others simply study them, learning their ways to better combat or control them. But all of us come to understand their peculiar nature—their obsession with contracts, their delight in corruption through technically honest means. The magistrate is no different. Everything about him screams of fiendish influence.”
I rubbed my chin in thought. “So… with all that being said, these invitations will get us through the front door, but the magistrate will likely keep the ritual chamber sealed from the general guests.”
Corvus nodded. “Even the city’s elite won’t be permitted to witness the true nature of tonight’s ‘entertainment.”
“But the magistrate is expecting us to come to that conclusion, and will be anticipating us to try and sneak down there at some point.”
“Which we will, but not by the route he expects. That is why we are meeting with Ramon’s group.”
“I understand. But surely, he knows about them, also. He knows they’re going to try and infiltrate the chamber?”
“He does. But he may not be aware of our… unexpected alliance.”
“But when we were attacked in the tunnels by those shadow creatures…”
Corvus held up a hand, cutting off my concern. “I did not sense their connection with the magistrate. Moreover, those shadow creatures weren’t mere sentries. They were drawn to our power—to the dark energy we wield as blackguards. Ramon’s group, being mostly common folk, wouldn’t have attracted their attention. But we’re different. Our very presence resonates with ancient darkness.”
“How can you be certain that the magistrate might be unaware of our alliance with Ramon’s group?” I asked.
“Because if he knew, he would have already moved against us more directly. Fiends are beings of a twisted version of law and order. They respect hierarchies and expect others to do the same. The idea of blackguards—servants of order through darkness—working with common rebels would seem... unlikely to him.”
I considered this. “He’d expect us to either work alone or try to dominate Ramon’s group, not ally with them,” I mused.
Corvus nodded and smirked. “Exactly. His arrogance blinds him to certain possibilities. As a fiend, he sees the world through a rigid lens of power and subordination. The concept of temporary alliance for mutual benefit, especially between groups he considers naturally opposed, probably hasn’t occurred to him—yet.”
“And that’s our advantage,” I realized.
“One of them, yes. Those shadow creatures we encountered were powerful, but they were simply mindless creatures meant to eliminate common thieves and trespassers. They weren’t designed to gather intelligence or report back to their master.”
I nodded in understanding then fixed my eyes on the invitation’s ornate script once more. There was so much to consider, so much at play, so much at stake. It was hard to imagine this grand gathering was nothing more than one big performance, and the attendees were the actors. The magistrate was most likely going to maintain appearances until the last possible moment.
“There’s something else that troubles me,” Corvus continued. “The more I consider the ritual’s design, the more concerned I become about the number of souls that will be present.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it. The bards are just the focal points—the anchors for the ritual. But the energy, the raw power needed for such a transformation...” He turned back to me. “Every soul in attendance will contribute, whether they realize it or not. The city’s elite, the guards, even us—our very presence will feed his power.”
The implications sent a chill down my spine. “His audience will fuel his transformation.”
“Not only that, the more witnesses, the more powerful the spell. And given the guest list... Natalya mentioned that he’s invited every person of influence in Ebonheart. Merchants, nobles, guild leaders—anyone with wealth or power.”
“All of them potential fuel for his ritual,” I muttered. “Well, we can’t back down now. We must carry out our plans completely. What else did you find out last night during your visit with the Angel’s Mark?”
“In regards to security,” Corvus continued, “Natalya said that the hellguards operate in pairs, rotating their positions every hour. They’re particularly concentrated around the mansion’s eastern wing.”
“Where the ritual chamber is located,” I noted.
“Exactly. But what’s interesting is that they’re bound by strict protocols. They can’t leave their posts without direct orders from the magistrate himself, even if the mansion is under attack.”
A plan began forming in my mind. “That rigidity could be useful, especially as it gets closer to midnight. We’ll need a way to slip out of the mansion unnoticed before the ritual starts. What if we had the Angels’ Mark create multiple diversions? Not direct attacks, but enough chaos to stretch the regular guards thin.”
Corvus tilted his head, considering. “What did you have in mind?”
“Small fires in different quarters of the city. Nothing devastating, but enough to demand attention. A few staged brawls near the mansion. Perhaps even a fake assassination attempt on one of the magistrate’s guests. The city watch would be forced to respond, but the hellguards would have to maintain their posts.”
“Leaving gaps in the security we could exploit,” Corvus finished, nodding slowly. “Natalya’s people could handle that. They know the city’s pressure points better than anyone.”
“And while everyone’s distracted by the chaos...”
“We slip in through the secret tunnels,” Corvus finished. “The hellguards won’t be expecting an attack from below.”
“And moreover, the magistrate won’t realize until it’s too late that we didn’t take the direct route to the chamber.
He smiled grimly. “Sometimes the best way past a locked door is to avoid it entirely.”
I began pacing the room, formulating another plan. “We’ll need to time our escape carefully. As it nears midnight, I suspect the magistrate will have all the exits blocked so that he keeps all his guests gathered in one spot for the main performance.”
“Indeed, and that is when we need to make our move.”
“But how do we get away from the gathering without arousing suspicion? The magistrate will notice if we’re suddenly absent before the final performance.”
Corvus thought for a moment. “Perhaps one of the guests suddenly falls ill. We should pay a visit to Natalya and see if she can concoct something that we can apply to one of the guests’ drinks.”
I went over the scenario in my head. “So the guest falls ill, and the disruption will draw attention.” I remembered the layout of the mansion from our tour. “There’s an exit from the grand hall that leads directly to the garden. When our distraction falls ill, they’ll likely be taken outside for fresh air.”
“Perfect. We can slip away in the confusion. The magistrate will have no choice but to retreat to the chamber if he is to perform the ritual precisely at midnight.”
I smirked. “He’ll be in a bind, for sure. But he values his ascension more.”
“Once we’ve safely escaped, we’ll meet Ramon’s group at the rendezvous point.”
“And where is that?”
“Ramon neglected to tell us before we were attacked in the catacombs. But I suspect it’s somewhere down there since one of the passages leads to the mansion. Natalya probably knows the exact place.”
The room fell silent as we both contemplated the challenges ahead. Finally, Corvus spoke again, his voice softer but no less intense.
“Brother… Whatever happens tonight... whatever feelings you harbor for the bard... don’t let them compromise the mission. Too much depends on our success.”
I wanted to argue, to defend my feelings for Evangeline once more, but the weight of responsibility settled heavily on my shoulders. Corvus was right about one thing—we couldn’t afford any distractions tonight.
“I understand,” I said at last. “The mission comes first.”
Corvus nodded, seemingly satisfied with my response. “Good. Now, there’s one last thing we need to discuss—your involvement in this ritual.”
“Ramon still has the Serpent’s Fang,” I said.
“Yes, but he’ll hand it over at the rendezvous point. Wielding it, however—that responsibility falls to you.”
I frowned. “Why me? I still don’t understand. You have more experience, more power. Wouldn’t you be better suited?”
“No,” Corvus said firmly. “It must be you. The dagger responds to a specific type of resonance—a perfect balance between light and shadow, order and chaos. As a blackguard, you embody that duality in a way I do not.”
“I don’t understand. You’re a blackguard, too.”
“Yes, but my path has taken me deeper into the shadows. The blood pact I made with that fiend long ago changed me forever—not just my sight, but my very essence. I sacrificed too much of my former self. My soul has already been corrupted by the fiend’s dark magic. There’s no turning back from a blood-bound contract with such an entity.
“But you, Caelum... your soul remains pure from infernal pacts, even as you embrace the powers of shadow. That purity, combined with your mastery of darkness... it makes you uniquely suited for this task.”
I considered the significance of his words. I thought about my transformation, how the darkness had changed me while still leaving some fragment of my former self intact. Perhaps that was why I could still feel love for Evangeline, even as I embraced the shadows.
“Very well,” I said. “I’ll do what needs to be done.”
Corvus reached out and gripped my shoulder. “I know you will, brother. Despite my... concerns about the bard, I trust in your strength. You’ve come too far to fail now.”
His words carried both warning and encouragement. I clasped his arm in return, a gesture of brotherhood that transcended our earlier argument.
“We should replenish our supplies before tonight,” Corvus said, moving towards the door. “The marketplace will be busy at this hour.”
I nodded, mentally cataloging what we needed.
“The old weaponsmith near the temple district owes me a favor. He’ll give us a good price.” Corvus paused at the threshold. “Meet me there in an hour. Afterwards, we’ll speak with Natalya. And Caelum...” He turned his blindfolded face towards me. “Tonight’s outcome will ripple far beyond Ebonheart’s walls. Remember, brother. The path you walk, the choices you make—they carry more weight than you realize. Destiny rarely announces itself with fanfare, but when it arrives... Well, let’s just say you’ll need every ounce of strength you possess.”
After he left, I returned to the window and watched the sun climb higher over Ebonheart’s skyline. The city was already stirring to life, unaware that by tomorrow, everything would be different.
I rested my forehead on the glass and cast a blank stare over the busy streets. Corvus’s earlier comments about sacrifice echoed in my mind, refusing to be silenced. I closed my eyes. The thought of being forced to choose between my devotion to Valic and my possession of Evangeline gnawed at me.
“Lord Valic,” I whispered into the morning stillness. “I serve you faithfully. I embrace the darkness you’ve shown me. But Evangeline...” I paused, struggling to find the right words. “She strengthens my resolve, makes me a more effective servant. Surely you can see the value in that?”
Only silence answered my plea. The room felt suddenly colder. Was this a sign of Valic’s displeasure at my attachment? Or merely my own fears manifesting?
“To sacrifice her would be wasteful,” I continued, my voice growing more urgent. “Her talents, her devotion—they could serve your cause. She already walks willingly in shadow beside me.”
A cold draft suddenly whisked over my skin, causing me to shiver for a moment, though whether in response to my words or merely my imagination, I couldn’t be sure.
“Allow me to teach her your ways,” I pressed on. “I will ensure her complete loyalty to your cause. She will learn to embrace the darkness as I have.”
The air itself seemed to pause, heavy with anticipation. I took that as an encouraging sign.
“I would give anything else… Any other sacrifice you demanded. Even... Even my own life... But please... not her.”
A faint whisper of wind stirred the room’s heavy air, carrying with it the metallic taste of power. My dark veins pulsed in response, and for a moment, I felt the weight of ancient shadows focused upon me.
The moment passed, leaving me with no clear answer but a sense that perhaps my words had been heard. Whether Valic approved of my plea remained to be seen.
I straightened from the window, my resolve strengthened. Then I realized that this fear—this constant dread of being forced to make an impossible choice—would continue to lurk in the deepest shadows of my mind. It was a reminder that my power came with a price. Perhaps that was Valic’s intent all along.
I opened my eyes, awakening from my quiet prayer. The morning sun had climbed higher, reminding me that I needed to meet Corvus soon. But the weight of uncertainty remained, a dark whisper in the back of my mind that no amount of rationalization could fully silence.