The morning came too quickly, dragging me from fitful dreams filled with shadows and whispered warnings. I had gotten very little sleep after the weight of yesterday’s events. The familiar comfort of my bed did little to ease the tension that had settled into my muscles.

My chambers felt colder than usual as I dressed for the day. The purple flames in the braziers seemed dimmer, and the shadows it cast were weaker. Something was definitely wrong within the Sanctum’s dark halls.

Corvus still hadn’t appeared since he was summoned away by Malachai. Even his murder of crows that followed him everywhere weren’t present, which was unusual. His long absence gnawed at me like a persistent ache.

The dining hall buzzed with its usual morning activity when I arrived. Steam rose from the breakfast platters, while the rich aroma of coffee filled the air. Blackguards gathered in small groups, their quiet conversations creating a steady murmur that echoed off the high ceiling.

I noticed immediately that both Malachai’s and Corvus’s seats were empty. The sight of those vacant chairs sent an uncomfortable chill down my spine.

“Morning, brother,” Elena greeted as I took my seat. She passed me a platter of sausages. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough,” I lied, loading my plate. The food smelled delicious, but my concern dulled my appetite.

Dominic, sitting across from me, leaned forward. “Is it true what they’re saying? About Ebonheart?”

“Who is ‘they’? And what is being said?” I asked, accepting a basket of fresh bread being passed around the table. I selected a warm roll and carefully buttered it.

“The sanctum’s mages,” Dominic clarified, lowering his voice. “They’ve been in quite a state for a few days now. Something about massive magical disturbances around Ebonheart.”

Elena shot him a warning look. “Brother Dominic, perhaps such matters are best discussed privately.”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious?” Dominic glanced at her, then looked back at me. “They say the magical auras around the city have shifted dramatically.”

I kept my expression neutral as I swallowed a forkful of eggs. “The mages can sense such things?”

“Oh yes. They regularly monitor the arcane currents throughout Aetheria. Sister Vera says she’s never seen such a dramatic change before. The whole magical landscape around Ebonheart has been altered.”

“Fascinating,” I murmured, taking a sip of tea to hide my discomfort. The hot liquid warmed my tongue, but I welcomed the sensation as a distraction.

Elena cleared her throat pointedly. “Perhaps we should focus on our own duties rather than speculation about matters beyond our understanding.”

“Of course…” Dominic replied, though his eyes still sparkled with curiosity as he glanced at me.

I finished my breakfast in relative silence, listening as conversation around the table drifted to more mundane topics. The absence of both Malachai and Corvus seemed to loom larger with each passing moment.

After breakfast, I made my way to the training yards. The morning air held its usual chill and metallic tang that always seemed to accompany Aetheria’s eternal twilight. Purple lightning occasionally split the eternal twilight sky above the Sanctum’s towers. The sound of clashing steel and grunts of exertion filled the courtyard as various groups of blackguards went through their daily exercises and combat drills.

Malachai’s, and Corvus’s absences were noticeable today. Normally, Malachai would oversee the morning drills personally, his commanding presence felt by all. Corvus would often be there as well, roving throughout, offering guidance. Despite his blindness, his insights were always eerily accurate.

Today, however, the lower-ranked commanders seemed to be compensating for their absence with increased volume and intensity in their training regimens. Commander Richter, a burly man with a scarred face, barked orders with extra force. Mistress Helena, usually more reserved in her instruction, was actively demonstrating certain combat forms herself.

“Brother Caelum!” Richter called out as I approached. “Join the third group. We’re working on shadow-enhanced defensive maneuvers.”

I nodded and took my place amongst the others. The training was rigorous as always, but there was an underlying tension in every movement, every instruction. The other blackguards seemed hyper-aware of each other, their usual fluid coordination slightly off-balance.

“Keep your guard up!” Helena shouted, correcting a younger warrior’s stance. “Shadow enhancement requires perfect form. Sloppy positioning leads to weak barriers!”

Sweat dripped down my back as I moved through the familiar forms. The physical exertion helped clear my mind, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone was waiting for something to happen. Occasional glances towards the Sanctum’s main entrance suggested I wasn’t alone in this anticipation.

I paired up with Grath for sparring. Grath was a familiar and oddly comforting presence as a sparring partner. The half-orc’s massive frame belied his precise control, and his dedication to proper form had helped me immensely during my early training months. Despite his fearsome appearance, he approached combat with an almost scholarly attention to detail. Over time, he had become another trusted ally within the order, always reliable and steadfast in his support on the battlefield. While most of the other blackguards kept their distance, Grath’s straightforward honesty and unwavering loyalty made him one of the few I could truly call friend. His fighting style was similar to Corvus’s, except the half-orc relied more heavily on his raw power. It was easy to see why he’d risen through the ranks so quickly after his own ascension to blackguard status many years ago.

We moved through various forms and techniques as we traded blows, our weapons creating a deadly dance of steel and shadow. But even as I blocked and countered, my thoughts kept drifting to Corvus and Malachai.

“Your guard is slipping,” Grath commented after landing a particularly solid hit to my ribs. “I’ve never seen you this distracted.”

Stolen story; please report.

I grunted and readjusted my stance. “Is it that obvious?”

His yellow eyes studied me carefully. “To those who know what to look for.” He raised his blade again. “But such matters are best discussed through steel, not words.”

I appreciated his discretion. Grath had always understood the value of silence, of letting combat speak where words might be dangerous. We resumed our sparring, and I found myself grateful for his steady presence in the midst of so much uncertainty.

The morning training session stretched into afternoon drills, which left me physically drained, but mentally alert. There was still no sign of Malachai or Corvus. By the time I retired to my chambers, my muscles ached pleasantly from exertion, but my mind remained troubled. The familiar comfort of my quarters welcomed me as I began removing my armor piece by piece, setting each item carefully on its stand.

I summoned one of the sanctum’s attendants. A young acolyte soon arrived and bowed his head respectfully as he entered my chamber.

“Draw my bath,” I commanded.

The attendant began filling the large wooden tub from the cisterns while I prepared to undress. Once the tub was filled, he stepped back and raised his hands over the water’s surface. Muttering an incantation under his breath, his fingers traced intricate patterns in the air. Orange-red energy gathered at his fingertips before seeping down into the water like threads of liquid fire. Steam rose in lazy spirals as the magical heat spread evenly throughout, transforming the cool bath into an inviting warmth that promised to soothe my aching muscles.

He added the scented oils I preferred—a blend of sandalwood and exotic spices that soon filled the air with their rich aroma.

Once the bath was prepared to my satisfaction, I dismissed the young man with a wave. After he departed, I removed my remaining clothes and eased into the hot water with a grateful sigh.

The water enveloped me like a warm embrace, and I felt the tension begin to seep from my muscles. The steam from the bath filled the chamber with a pleasant haze. I leaned back, resting my head against the tub’s edge, and closed my eyes. The familiar scents of sandalwood and spice filled my nostrils.

My thoughts, however, refused to be so easily soothed. They kept circling back to Corvus, Malachai, and, most persistently, to Evangeline. The image of her lying so still and pale in that underground chamber haunted me. I could still feel the weight of my promise to protect her, even as I wondered how I could possibly keep it.

A knock at my chamber door interrupted my brooding. I opened my eyes with a frown.

“Who is it?” I called out, not bothering to move from my comfortable position.

“It’s Baylin and Dominic,” came the dwarf’s gruff response. “Got a moment, lad?”

I sighed. “Enter,” I said, though I remained in the tub. We were all warriors here—modesty was a luxury rarely afforded in our lifestyle.

The door opened, and they walked in. Baylin’s weathered face bore his usual good-natured expression, and his rust-colored beard was freshly braided. Dominic, however, looked somewhat nervous, his eyes darting around the room as if expecting to find something amiss.

“Enjoying a bit of luxury, I see,” Baylin commented with a grin. “Good. You’ve earned it after that mission. Speaking of which… a few of us were thinking of having a small gathering tonight. In your honor, actually.”

I raised an eyebrow. “In my honor?”

“Aye.” Baylin nodded. “To celebrate your first successful mission since taking your vows and becoming a proper blackguard. Nothing too elaborate, mind you—just a private gathering in my quarters. Some good drink, maybe a few stories...”

I hesitated, sinking a bit deeper into the warm water. “I don’t know. With everything that’s happening...”

“That’s exactly why you should come,” Dominic interjected, seeming to find his voice. “Everyone’s been so tense lately. We could all use a moment to... decompress.”

Baylin nodded in agreement. “The lad’s right. Look, I know you’re worried about Corvus and the Grandmaster. We all are. But wearing yourself down with concern won’t help anyone.”

I grimaced. “Ehh… I don’t feel much like celebrating,” I muttered.

Baylin’s laugh was a low rumble. “Nothing cures a troubled mind like good company and better wine.”

I absently traced patterns on the water’s surface, watching the ripples spread outward. “Would Malachai approve of such gatherings?”

“Technically, no,” Baylin admitted with a slight smirk. “But he doesn’t concern himself with how we spend our downtime, so long as it doesn’t interfere with our duties. We’re planning it for the tenth bell, after evening prayers and dinner. Nothing pressing scheduled then.”

“Don’t worry,” Dominic added, “what the Grandmaster doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” He immediately looked alarmed at his own boldness, glancing around as if expecting Malachai to materialize from the shadows.

I snorted in amusement at his expression. “Careful, brother. These walls have ears.”

“All the more reason to have our little celebration somewhere more... private,” Baylin said. “My quarters are in the old section of the sanctum. Thick walls, fewer shadows to carry whispers.”

I considered the offer. Part of me wanted to refuse, to remain alone with my thoughts. But another part recognized the wisdom in their suggestion. Perhaps a brief respite from my troubled mind would do me good. “Who else will be there?” I asked.

“Just us, Elena, and Grath,” Baylin assured me.

I was quiet for a moment, letting the warm water continue its work on my muscles.

“Come on, lad,” Baylin pressed gently. “When was the last time you allowed yourself to relax? I mean really relax, and not just soak in a tub while brooding about things beyond your control?”

I shot him a look, but he just grinned, his beard twitching with amusement.

“Fine,” I conceded finally. “But only for a short while.”

“That’s the spirit!” Baylin clapped his hands together. “Tenth bell, then.”

“Don’t worry about bringing anything,” Dominic added. “Baylin’s got it all covered.”

The dwarf nodded proudly. “Aye, that I do. Been saving a special bottle of spirits for just such an occasion.”

“I thought personal stores of alcohol were forbidden in the Sanctum,” I said.

“They are,” Baylin agreed cheerfully. “But some rules are meant to be... creatively interpreted. Besides, what’s the point of being a warrior of shadow if you can’t keep a few harmless secrets? And between you and me, even Malachai knows that a dwarf fights better with a bit of liquid courage in his belly.” He winked.

I arched an eyebrow, slightly amused. “You actually believe Malachai would make exceptions for dwarven... cultural practices?”

“Ha!” Baylin patted the flask at his hip. “This ain’t just any old drink, lad. This is ancient dwarven battle-brew, passed down through generations of my clan. Makes the blood run hot and the axe swing true. It’d be an insult to my ancestors not to partake before combat.”

The corner of my mouth twitched. There was something almost admirable about the dwarf’s brazen resourcefulness in circumventing authority while maintaining a veneer of tradition. “Just don’t expect me to cover for you when Malachai discovers your ‘cultural practices,’” I said dryly, though there was dark humor in my tone.

Baylin laughed heartily. “Wouldn’t dream of it, lad. Now, we’ll let you finish your bath in peace. Remember—tenth bell, my quarters.”

As they turned to leave, Dominic paused at the door. “It’ll be good to have a moment of normalcy,” he said quietly. “Everything’s been so strange lately...”

“Indeed, it has, brother,” I agreed, sobering slightly. “Indeed, it has.”

After they left, I sank deeper into the cooling water, considering their invitation. Perhaps they were right—a few hours of distraction might help clear my thoughts.

And yet, something else still plagued my mind. Perhaps it was my roguish paranoia. The timing of this gathering felt oddly significant. Baylin wasn’t one for frivolous celebrations. For him to organize such a gathering, he likely had reasons beyond simple congratulations. Perhaps he had information to share. Better to hear it in the company of trusted brothers than to continue wondering alone.

I closed my eyes again, letting the water lap at my shoulders. The familiar scents of sandalwood and spice continued to rise with the steam, but now they seemed to carry a hint of promise rather than just comfort. Despite everything weighing on my mind, I found myself looking forward to the evening’s gathering.

After all, even servants of shadow sometimes needed a moment of respite. Even if it came in the form of forbidden dwarven spirits and whispered conversations behind thick stone walls.