The warmth of Baylin’s spirits still coursed through my veins as I made my way through the darkened corridors of the Sanctum. Though my original intention had been to return to my quarters, my mind was too active with questions about fiends and prophecies to consider sleep. A pleasant buzz lingered from the evening’s drinks, but my thoughts remained clear enough for study. Instead of seeking my bed, my feet carried me towards the library.
The Sanctum’s library occupied an entire wing of the fortress. Its towering shelves reached up into shadows so deep even my enhanced vision couldn’t penetrate them fully. Purple flames flickered in elaborate wall sconces, casting an ethereal glow over rows upon rows of ancient tomes. The air held the musty sweetness of old parchment mixed with fresh ink and the earthier scents of leather bindings.
At this late hour, the massive space was nearly deserted. Only a few black-robed attendants moved silently between the shelves like shadows given form, their faces obscured by deep hoods. They acknowledged my presence with slight nods but otherwise remained focused on their tasks of organizing and maintaining the vast collection.
The library was divided into distinct sections, each dedicated to different aspects of shadow magic, combat techniques, the history of our order, and Aetheria’s lore. Massive stone archways separated each of the areas, their surfaces carved with magical runes that glowed faintly in the dim light. The ceiling, barely visible in the gloom, was a masterwork of vaulted architecture with carved gargoyles peering down from the shadows.
I made my way to the section on fiendish lore. The shelves here were crafted of darker wood than the others, and the spines of the books seemed to absorb the light.
“Brother Caelum,” a soft voice spoke from nearby. I turned to see one of the attendants, Sister Gretta, her aged face partially visible beneath her hood. “Seeking knowledge at such a late hour?”
“Research on fiends,” I replied, keeping my voice equally low. “I’m interested in learning more about their various types and hierarchies, particularly how they interact with our order.”
“Ah. Third row, upper shelves. Compendium of Infernal Hierarchies and Shadows and Fiends: A Study of Dark Alliances should serve your purposes well,” Sister Gretta said with a slight gesture.
I nodded my thanks and made my way to the indicated shelves. The books she mentioned were bound in dark leather that seemed to pulse with its own inner darkness. As I reached for them, I noticed how they felt unnaturally warm to the touch, as if the knowledge contained within generated its own heat.
Settling at a long wooden table, I opened the first tome. The pages were yellowed with age and covered in cramped writing and detailed illustrations of various fiendish beings.
The first chapter detailed the complex hierarchies of the Infernal Realm. I was particularly drawn to a section about masphroths, the type of fiend I’d encountered in Ebonheart. The text described them as master manipulators, beings that could twist not just individual minds but entire societies to their will.
“They do not simply corrupt,” the text read, “they transform. Like a disease that rewrites the very nature of its host, a masphroth’s influence spreads through the subtle manipulation of existing darkness within mortal hearts.”
I turned the page, finding an intricate illustration of a masphroth in its true form—a horrifying amalgamation of shadow and flesh that bore little resemblance to the dignified magistrate I’d encountered. The accompanying text explained how they could maintain the disguises of lesser beings indefinitely, drawing power from the very corruption they spread.
Moving to the second book, I found information about the connection between blackguards and fiendish entities. The relationship, it seemed, was more complex than I’d initially understood. We weren’t simply allies of convenience, there was a deeper resonance between our natures.
“The shadow-touched warrior,” one passage read, “shares a fundamental kinship with fiendish entities through their mutual embracing of darkness. This connection manifests not merely in similar goals or methods, but in a deeper spiritual alignment. As the blackguard grows in power, their very essence begins to resonate with infernal energies, creating a symbiotic relationship that transcends mere alliance.”
The text went on to explain how this connection allowed blackguards to command lesser fiends and even form pacts with more powerful entities. However, it also warned of the dangers inherent in such relationships. Fiends, by their very nature, sought to dominate and corrupt. Even those who served willingly always looked for ways to twist agreements to their advantage.
I delved deeper into a chapter discussing the psychology of fiends. Their form of evil wasn’t chaotic or random, but carefully structured and hierarchical. They operated according to strict codes of behavior, even if those codes were alien to mortal understanding.
An hour passed as I continued my research. My eyes grew heavy, but the fascinating information kept drawing me in. I learned about the various types of pacts fiends could forge, the proper methods of summoning and binding them, and the complex politics of their realm.
Finally, when the purple flames had burned lower and my vision began to blur, I knew it was time to retire. I carefully marked my place in the texts and returned them to their proper shelves. Then, with a curt nod to Sister Gretta, I left the library.
The walk back to my quarters passed in a haze of exhaustion and contemplation. By the time I reached my door, I could barely keep my eyes open. I managed to remove my boots, but left the rest of my clothing on as I collapsed onto my bed. Sleep claimed me almost instantly, and my mind swam with images of fiendish hierarchies and dark pacts.
***
The hot water enveloped my aching muscles as I sank deeper into the wooden tub. Another day of rigorous training had left its mark, though the pain was familiar now, almost welcome. The scent of sandalwood drifted through the steam, a small luxury I allowed myself during these private moments of contemplation.
My thoughts drifted to the additional research I’d conducted in the library earlier. The texts had revealed more about fiendish psychology, particularly their obsession with contracts and hierarchy. Every interaction was a carefully calculated exchange of power, every agreement a potential trap waiting to be sprung.
But it was thoughts of Evangeline that dominated my mind. Her face appeared whenever I closed my eyes, her voice echoing in my memory like a haunting melody. The desire to see her again gnawed at me, but protocol demanded that I remain focused on my duties to the order. Any unauthorized departure would be noted, questioned, possibly even punished.
I sank lower in the water, letting it cover my shoulders. The heat helped ease the tension in my muscles, but did nothing for the conflict in my mind.
My position within the order demanded absolute loyalty and ruthless efficiency. Yet Evangeline had proven herself to be more than a mere possession. She was a valuable instrument of my will. While attachment was a weakness I couldn’t afford to display openly, I refused to relinquish what was rightfully mine. A true leader knows the worth of each weapon in his arsenal, and Evangeline had earned her place at my side through both utility and unwavering devotion.
A sharp, authoritative knock at my chamber door jolted me from my brooding.
“Ent—” Before I could finish, a dark figure materialized through the solid door, shadow-stepping into my chamber without ceremony. I instinctively tensed, water sloshing against the sides of the tub as I sat up straighter.
Thaddeus stood before me, his thin frame covered in black armor that absorbed the purple light from the sconces. His usual nervous demeanor was oddly replaced with impassiveness, as though he’d recently experienced a life-changing revelation.
“Brother Caelum,” he said, regarding me with cold indifference. “Grandmaster Malachai requires your immediate presence in the oratory.”
I blinked, water dripping from my hair. “Now?”
“Immediately,” Thaddeus repeated, his voice carrying an edge of steel. He made no move to leave or even turn away. “I am to escort you personally.”
Awkwardness crept through me as I realized he intended to wait while I dressed. “Would you mind...” I gestured vaguely, trailing off as his expression remained unchanged.
With a slight sigh that might have contained a note of impatience, Thaddeus turned his back to me. Even this small concession to privacy seemed to irritate him, as if such mortal concerns were beneath his notice.
I rose from the tub quickly, water cascading off my body as I reached for a nearby towel. The chill air raised goosebumps on my skin as I dried myself hastily. The Darkweaver’s Embrace lay cleaned and ready on its stand, and I donned it with practiced efficiency, though my fingers fumbled slightly with the fastenings under Thaddeus’s oppressive presence.
“I’m ready,” I announced, settling my weapons belt into place.
Thaddeus turned, his dark eyes scanning me critically before giving a curt nod. Without a word, he moved to the door, opening it this time rather than shadow-stepping through it. I followed him into the corridor, noting how he chose a path that led away from the main thoroughfares of the Sanctum.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Our footsteps echoed softly against the stone as we traversed lesser-used passages. The air grew cooler and carried a hint of incense as we descended a narrow spiral staircase I’d never noticed before.
Questions burned in my mind, but Thaddeus’s rigid posture and purposeful stride discouraged conversation. Everything about this encounter was unusual, from Thaddeus’s behavior, to the actual summons itself. Malachai’s recent seclusion in the oratory had been the subject of much speculation.
We passed through a series of ancient corridors, the stonework growing more elaborate with each turn. Finally, we arrived at a set of obsidian doors carved with intricate scenes of shadow warriors in battle. Valic’s holy symbol dominated the center of each door.
Thaddeus stopped abruptly and turned to face me. “The Grandmaster awaits within.” His voice carried a warning note. “Mind your words and remember your place.”
I nodded and squared my shoulders as Thaddeus pushed open the heavy doors. The oratory spread out before me, a vast circular chamber that seemed to exist in perpetual twilight.
Unlike the rest of the Sanctum, the walls here were lined with mirrors of black glass, each reflecting the purple flames that burned in elaborate braziers that were strategically placed throughout the chamber. The effect was disorienting, creating endless reflections that seemed to peer into infinite darkness. The domed ceiling disappeared into darkness above, though occasional glints suggested the presence of elaborate metalwork or crystals catching the light.
At the chamber’s center stood a raised dais of black marble, upon which rested an obsidian altar. The symbol of Valic had been etched into its surface, the lines filled with what appeared to be liquid shadow that moved and shifted of its own accord.
Malachai, wearing his formal armor, was knelt before the altar, his back to me. His presence filled the chamber with an almost palpable weight of power and authority.
“Sister Gretta informed me about your... early morning studies,” he suddenly spoke without turning.
I swallowed, thinking carefully about my response. “I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to do a little reading. Is it not prudent for a warrior to learn all they can about their adversaries?”
“Adversaries?” He gave a soft, humorless laugh. “An interesting choice of words.” Finally, he stood and turned to face me. His eyes held an intensity I’d never seen before, burning with barely contained power. “Tell me, Caelum… Where were you born?”
The unexpected question made my blood run cold. In all our previous conversations, Malachai had never once inquired about my past beyond my role as a watchman.
“In the Western kingdom,” I replied carefully, maintaining my composure. “As I mentioned when I first joined the order.”
“Did you? Strange. I have no memory of such a conversation. In fact...” He fixed me with an unsettling stare. “I find I have no memory of you ever speaking of your birthplace at all.”
My throat felt dry. “I don’t see how this is relevant to—”
“Everything is relevant!” he snapped, his voice echoing off the mirrored walls. His reflection multiplied infinitely in the black glass, each one seeming to glare at me with growing suspicion. “Lord Valic has shown me... things. Visions that speak of your true origins.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady even as my heart pounded furiously. How much did he know?
“No?” Malachai’s lip curled. “Then allow me to be more direct. You’re not from the Western provinces. You’re not from anywhere in Aetheria, are you?”
The accusation hung in the air like a blade. I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Grandmaster, I—”
“Do not compound your deception with more lies!” he thundered. “I can see the truth in your eyes, even as you scramble to fabricate another story. Did you think you could hide your true nature forever? That Lord Valic wouldn’t reveal your secrets to his most devoted servant?”
“I am honored to serve His will,” I said carefully, desperately trying to regain control of the conversation.
“Are you? Or do you serve another purpose? Perhaps...” He trailed off, his eyes distant as if seeing something beyond the physical realm. “Perhaps you are a test. Yes... a test of my loyalty, my worthiness.”
“Grandmaster,” I tried to interrupt, but he continued as if I hadn’t spoken.
“Lord Valic has shown me visions,” he said, his voice taking on an almost fevered quality. “Terrible things. A world beyond our own, a justice system corrupted beyond redemption. A man who died by hanging, yet lives again.” His eyes snapped back to me. “Sound familiar?”
I remained silent, every muscle tensed for whatever might come next.
“But why send such a test now?” Malachai mused, more to himself than to me. “When I am so close to achieving my destiny? Unless...” His expression darkened. “Unless you’re here to interfere with the natural order. To prevent what must come to pass.”
“And what must come to pass?” I asked, unable to keep the question contained.
Malachai’s laugh was sharp and cold. “Do you think me a fool? That I would reveal the grand design to one whose very presence reeks of otherworldly taint?” He stepped closer, his power radiating off him in waves of darkness. “No. You will continue your duties as before. You will serve the order as you have been. But know this—I see you now, Caelum Steelwind. I understand what you represent.”
“And what is that, exactly?”
“An aberration,” he spat. “A piece that doesn’t fit in Lord Valic’s perfect design. But like all such anomalies, you will be dealt with. In time.”
“If you believe me to be a threat,” I said carefully, “why not deal with me now?”
“Because that’s not how the game is played, is it?” Malachai’s smile turned cruel. “We are beings of order, after all. Everything must happen in its proper time, its proper way.”
“What have I done to warrant such suspicion?” I asked, keeping my voice level despite the growing tension. “Have I not served faithfully? Have I not completed every task set before me?”
“Ah yes, your service.” Malachai sneered. “So perfect, so precise. The former watchman, turned criminal, turned devoted servant of shadow. A compelling narrative, wouldn’t you agree? Perhaps too compelling.”
He gestured to one of the black mirrors, and its surface rippled like disturbed water. “Lord Valic shows me fragments of truth in my prayers. A man who bears your face, but walks in a world where our god holds no sway. A world where fiends are but whispers and legends. Where their power is diminished, their presence a mere shadow of what they are here in Aetheria. A world that lacks the proper order we serve.”
“These visions,” I said carefully, “could they not be tests of faith rather than revelations of truth?”
“Do not presume to interpret our lord’s will!” Malachai barked. “I have served Him faithfully my entire life. I have sacrificed everything in His name. And now, when my destiny approaches its fulfillment, He sends you—this anomaly, this... intruder from another realm.”
“My loyalty is to Valic,” I stated firmly. “Whatever I was before, I serve His will now.”
“Your loyalty?” Malachai scoffed. “Was it loyalty that led you to exceed your mandate in Ebonheart? Your orders were specific—retrieve the Serpent’s Fang. Nothing more.”
The accusation caught me off guard. “The fiend was corrupting the entire city. It had to be stopped.”
“Had to be stopped? Who are you to make such decisions? To determine what must or must not be done in our lord’s domain?”
“The creature was stealing power that rightfully belongs to Lord Valic,” I argued, though something in his reaction made me uneasy. “Such treachery against our master warranted—”
“Warranted what? The destruction of delicate plans years in the making?” He caught himself, his face smoothing into a careful mask. “The natural order of Aetheria is not for you to decide. Your task was simple, yet you chose to interfere in matters beyond your understanding.”
I studied him carefully, noting the barely contained fury in his stance. “The fiend was a threat to the order’s interests.”
“Was it?” Malachai’s laugh held no humor. “Or perhaps it served a greater purpose, one your limited perspective couldn’t comprehend. Did you even stop to consider why such a powerful being would choose Ebonheart? Why it would establish itself in that particular city, at this particular time?”
Understanding began to dawn. “You knew about the fiend.”
“I know many things,” he replied coldly. “Things that would shatter your simple conception of our work here. The fiend’s presence in Ebonheart was... significant. Its destruction has created complications that you cannot begin to understand.”
“Complications for whom?” I pressed, watching his reaction carefully.
Malachai’s eyes narrowed. “Mind your place, Caelum. You walk a dangerous path with such questions.” He turned to face one of the black mirrors. His reflection seemed to watch me from multiple angles. “The order exists to serve Lord Valic’s will, not to question the methods by which His design unfolds.”
“And what of Corvus?” I dared to ask, unable to contain my curiosity any longer. “Did his disappearance serve some greater purpose as well?”
The temperature in the chamber dropped. Malachai turned back to me slowly, his face unreadable. “Brother Corvus has been sent on an important mission. One that requires his... unique abilities.”
The lie was obvious, but calling him out directly would be suicide. Instead, I chose my next words carefully. “Strange that he wouldn’t mention such a mission before departing.”
“Are you questioning my authority?” Malachai’s voice was deadly quiet.
“Never, Grandmaster. Merely expressing concern for a brother of the order.”
“Your concern is noted. And unnecessary.” He stepped closer, his power radiating like cold fire. “Focus on your own duties. Continue your training. Serve as you are bid.” A cruel smile touched his lips. “After all, we wouldn’t want any... accidents to befall you as well.”
The threat was clear, though carefully veiled in layers of propriety and protocol. This was the way I understood how true power operated in our circles—through careful manipulation and calculated moves, rather than sloppy brute force or chaos.
“Of course, Grandmaster,” I replied, matching his formal tone. “Will there be anything else?”
Malachai studied me for a long moment, as though he were peering into my very soul. “Just remember that everything happens according to Lord Valic’s design. Everything.” He turned away dismissively. “You’re dismissed.”
I bowed slightly and backed toward the door, never turning my back on him. Just before I reached the threshold, his voice stopped me.
“Oh, by the way, brother...” The title dripped with sarcasm. “Do give my regards to that charming bard. Such a lovely voice... it would be tragic if anything were to silence it.”
My blood ran cold, but I kept my face carefully neutral. “I’m afraid I don’t—”
“Come now.” He spun back around and faced me. “Did you think I wouldn’t know about your little... indiscretions in Ebonheart?” His smile was like a blade in the darkness. “Everything that happens in Aetheria reaches my ears eventually,” he continued. “Your weakness for the bard is... noted. Though I must admit, I’m curious how she survived the fiend’s feeding. Most mortals aren’t so... resilient.”
“She means nothing to me,” I replied coldly, masking my inner turmoil with practiced indifference. “The bard was merely a useful tool in uncovering the fiend’s corruption. Nothing more.”
“Ah, such conviction,” Malachai mocked. “Yet your eyes betray you, brother. They always have.” He turned back to the altar, his dismissal clear. “You may go now. I’m sure you have much to... contemplate.”
I left the chamber, my mind racing. The obsidian doors closed behind me with a soft but final click, leaving me alone in the darkened corridor with the weight of Malachai’s veiled threats hanging in the air. Though he hadn’t said it explicitly, I knew something had changed fundamentally in our relationship. The careful respect he’d shown before had been replaced by barely concealed hatred and paranoia, all because of something he’d seen in his visions.
The warmth from my earlier bath had completely faded, replaced by a cold clarity. Something was very wrong within the order, and I was now caught in the middle of it.
Perhaps this was what Baylin warned about last night, I mused.
As I made my way back through the shadows of the Sanctum, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just witnessed the beginning of something far darker than I’d imagined. Malachai knew something—something about my true nature, about my destiny in this realm. And whatever it was, it had turned him from a stern but fair leader into a dangerous enemy.