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CHAPTER VII:
The Society of the Shadow’s Veil
22, Flamestar 1011,
The Age of Night
30 Days until the Night of the Moon
Beneath Fioranz
The crimson fringes of Governor Grazzli's night robes were stained and dirty as he and his brother floated in the damp darkness of the catacombs under the streets of Fioranz. Syrio, his eldest brother, carried a burning torch with his free hand, gently guiding his hand across the slimy bricks that closed them in. The tunnels were seemingly endless, and carved graffiti and other odd doodles and inscriptions were made on the walls. Governor Belzon Grazzli had never set foot in the catacombs, nor did he want to.
In ancient days, it is said that the great warrior Fior, one of Yolgar’s courtiers and the country’s namesake, gathered in these catacombs, hiding and holding liturgy unto his god by candlelight. At that time, the city was nothing more than a small stony Venganzi settlement with a decent-sized keep, which he plotted to take and did so, becoming the first king of the new nation. After his reign, their victorious dead were buried there under his orders.
The tombs were now cold, stiff, and filled with an odd odor, faintly chemical in substance. The parents of Fioran children often exchanged stories of boogeymen, ghouls, and fiends living down there, plotting to snatch them from their warm beds and devour them. From time to time, lennings egged one another on to see how far they could go in without getting scared; and there were incidents of missing children, which only served to fuel the urban legends. Some older adolescents brought their friends down there, to drink alcohol and use illicit alchemy. The occasional scholar came there to study the strange writings, examine the pottery, and graves, to help with their theories of the past.
As the brothers made their way further and further, the Governor couldn’t help but feel his unease quicken. He knew the ways of the Venganzi well. He knew they had been involved in disappearances from time to time… and indeed, some of those mischief makers who wandered in but never returned were their doing. But it was a strict Venganzi policy to never speak on insular matters regarding the community.
“This way.” Said Syrio. “We’ve almost arrived… brother.”
“Does the Society have to meet in such a ghastly place?” Asked Belzon.
Syrio scoffed.
“That is your age speaking, brother… feel the darkness reverberate as the light no longer kisses your skin…”
Syrio put out the torch. it was still pitch black for a few more paces until the tiny hue of an orange light appeared before them. And faintly, in the distance… they began to hear a dull hum of voices… chanting… and the timbrel of small, brass percussive instruments. They turned a corner, and there it was - a dimly lit chamber where a clandestine gathering awaited. Governor Grazzli's heart pounded in his chest as he took in the sight of several other Venganzi, all shrouded in the gloom of the catacombs. His gaze was drawn to the center of the chamber, where a pit filled with monstrous, misshapen skulls, a strange assembling of herbs and other greens and a struggling Lyban, standing atop them; bound to a stake. It demanded his attention.
Grazzli's breath hitched, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he listened to the haunting echoes of whispers from the ancient Venganzi vulgar. It was a song. He could feel the weight of the secrets and rituals that had taken place in these catacombs throughout history, the very air heavy with the residue of ancient magic and untold stories. It seemed to be more than a simple tomb. The robed ven were huddled around the pit, holding up their hands, two fingers in the air, the others folded.
A figure at the head of the coven stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Grazzli, a hint of a sinister smile curling the corners of his lips. The tension in the room grew palpable, the shadows cast by flickering candles and torches seeming to reach out and wrap themselves around the attendees.
As Governor Grazzli and Syrio stepped further into the dimly lit chamber, their eyes took a moment to adjust to the flickering glow of the torches lining the slick, oily walls. The musty air in the room felt heavy with the weight of centuries, and the shadows being cast from the arcane flames seemed to dance and shift as if they were alive.
The figure was still smiling, lifting his head ever so slightly. His captivating amber eyes locked on the newcomers. His dark chestnut hair cascaded down his neck, shimmering like silk as he turned to greet them, with one streak of gray. The silver embroidery on his dark velvet coat caught the light, the alchemical symbols glinting as if they held some hidden power. A sly grin spread across the ven’s face, his thin mustache and pointed goatee framing his lips as he spoke with an air of amusement, "How pleased I am that you decided to join us... Belzon." said the familiar voice of his brother Galzon.
With a graceful wave of his hand, the ven beckoned Governor Grazzli to his side. The governor hesitated, glancing at his brother Syrio for reassurance, who was bowed, low. Before stepping forward to join the ancient, enigmatic figure. The torchlight cast eerie shadows across the ven’s angular face, highlighting the mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Come, little brother," He continued, his voice like silk. "Tonight, you shalt bear witness to the power of our people and participate in a ritual that has been performed for generations."
The ven continued, as his fingers danced in the air, weaving an intricate pattern that seemed to pull the very shadows toward him. The atmosphere in the chamber thickened, charged with anticipation, as the governor steeled himself for the unknown, his heart pounding in his chest. Belzon looked down, and realized that it was in fact a tophet. A tophet was a pit of sacrifice that was used by the ancient Venganzi. Many Len, wolen and even lenning remains have been recovered from tophet sites. Belzon couldn’t help but feel unease. It was not at all representative of the Venganzi way that he sought to uphold, nor the new future of cooperation under the Empire. Belzon’s eyes returned to the struggling lyban, who was in a simple cloth, bound and gagged.
“Ehm… of course, brother.” said Belzon, bowing.
Galzon raised his fist, and the chanting ceased, to a hushed silence… leaving only the sound of the struggling lyban in the pit.
“My brothers… welcome to an emergency gathering of the Society of the Shadow's Veil…” He said.
“HAIL!” The ven chanted in unison.
Galzon silenced them once more.
“I hath summoned thee here this evening… because we are at war.”
Galzon began to pace.
“Did we really think that our renaissance would go unnoticed? unmet by resistance?!”
“No!” Galzon snapped. “We have been mistaken.”
He continued to pace around the circle of ven, examining them; each too afraid to face him.
“Our enemies are many. They nearly exterminated our kind, a millennium ago, when that usurper… Yolgar… sundered the First Empire, and handed it to the curs.”
“THEY’RE CURS!” The Venganzi shouted in unison.
“Settle… settle.” He said fanning them down with a hand again.
“...Yes, the ursurper vanished from the face of Etria… he departed this world… one way or another… the coward that he is! But his vermin still infest our land…”
He continued, nearly returning to the head overlooking the pit.
“Indeed, by our power, we have reclaimed much that was lost… but hearken unto me, children of the Shadow’s Veil… In the war with the forest-curs, you know, that our brothers and sisters have now been leading troops into battle."
Galzon cleared his throat again. "Look around you and notice the many who are missing from our gathering... we know they have been captured in the forest, and are being starved and tortured, no less..."
"Is true that one of our brothers... has been vanquished?” A lone voice resounded from the crowd.
Murmurs broke out in the crowd, some staggered.
“Do not be afraid.” He said, reassuringly.
A weak, flimsy voice echoed in the assembly.
“M-my lord… how? How did a ven be vanquished?”
“You know that thou hath not the luxury of true immortality.” Said Galzon.
“As you know, our kind can be killed… if the conditions are right… If we are weak, starving… unfed. However…”
The murmuring continued.
“Our fallen kinsven were neither of these things. All that was found was a broken, sharpened arrow, with their carvings on it…”
And intensified.
“IT WAS-” He said, raising his voice, causing the murmuring to cease at once.
“Them. Our nemeses. They that conceal themselves in the rocks, the trees… the mountains… some say the rain clouds…”
“Bah, that’s a child’s tale.” One voice clamored. “They’re gone, Galzon.”
“Indeed brother, many thought they departed with Yolgar but nay, they never left.” He said.
“So yes… one of our kind has been vanquished… so… I regret to inform you that… clearly… there is only one deduction… and I shudder,”
The crowd fell silent.
“I am certain all gathered here know the sacred texts…”
“You refer to the prophecy of the cur’s prophet, Mobit?” Another ven spoke.
“Yes… in the latter writings, he referred to a time… well… the end of time… that would marked with ‘the slaying of an ancient one, a child of Umbraneth under Zlyvon’s glades’ followed by “The Night of the Moon shall come early, bathed in blood, provoked at Flamme’s Starre.”
The crowd murmured again in contention.
“You see… our brother was felled… in the Drü Wood! The ancient settlement of the hero Zlyvon, his name in the common tongue of the Age of Dawn, the contemporary of Fyor, that first king of this cur homeland for which it is named… Brothers. This is the omen. I assure you.”
“I don’t recall this from the Lyric of Yol.” One shouted.
“It is not. I told you, it came from the latter writings.”
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“Only those backwards, southern curs believe the Nur-Yidi, you can’t be serious, Galzon!” Another scoffed.
“Do you want to risk it?” He said. “Powerful ancient arcana must have been channeled to slay one of ours in broad daylight, with one stroke. Indeed the powers of light that radiate from Lumenaris are not to be underestimated… We must answer in kind.”
The crowd began to deliberate… then suddenly buzz with shouts of affirmation.
“Good.” Said Galzon. “Let us seek the answer. Let us tip the scales.”
“BEFORE YOU-” He bellowed. “IN THE TOPHET… lies a lyban cur… a CRIMINAL no less…”
“A former doctor, as it were. ”
The len winced and struggled worse as he heard the subject shift to himself.
"His ideas have been spreading throughout the city, you see. In his writings and opinions, he writes that there is no reason why the Lyban and Venganzi cannot join and become one race. He advocates for equality."
The Venganzi let out audible groans of disgust.
“From the dungeons beneath Castle Fiora, rotting away under the Venrex's thumb… I felt we might make better use of him.”
The crowd gasped. Belzon’s eyes widened.
Amidst the ceremony, Syrio leaned over toward his brother.
“We’ve been meaning to tell you.” Said Syrio quietly, underneath the rabble. “But I am afraid that your... daughter’s presence held our tongues. He was preparing a letter…”
“I beg your pardon?” Said the Governor.
“In a fortnight, Galzon is to become a Governor like you… it seems you will have… company.”
Syrio grinned.
“Two Grazzli’s will help balance the Empire…”
Belzon was somewhat disturbed but kept a straight face feigning enjoyment.
“It is good to have… a second pair of eyes… wouldn’t you say, brother?” Said Syrio.
Belzon continued to look forward, as the orange hues painted his face.
“...As such, he hath been chosen as an offering to the realm below, Umbraneth, that we might call upon its power to strike back against our enemies.” said Galzon. “They want equality? Nay. They seek to imbalance the true order of races. Balance must be maintained… and when we tip the scales… with a living vessel such as this one… the sacrifice will force the realm of Umbraneth to push the pendulum back… in OUR favor once more…”
The crowd roared with approval, the hunger in their eyes palpable. Belzon looked at the king, who was now quivering with fear, his eyes wide with terror.
“As you may recall...” He bellowed. “...Our Society’s previous sacrifices were smiled upon… and Umbraneth loosed the great pestilence… and now, it is nearly birthed,”
“...A revived… Venganzi empire…” Whispered Syrio.
Galzon jumped down, momentarily. Tears began to leave the Lyban’s eyes. Galzon grinned, and then returned to his place. He extracted more objects from his robes, and tossed in several vials and globes. First was a fluorescent green liquid, then a violet one. As the glass shattered, a strong, foul aroma and strange sparkling fume rose as it bled into the bundled herbs. The venlord raised his arms, and the chanting resumed. The shadows in the chamber seemed to come alive, twisting and writhing around the Venganzi as the ancient song filled the air. The atmosphere was charged with dark energy, and Belzon felt his heart race as the power surged through the chamber.
“Who knows, then…” He continued, his eyes burning blacker, with more intensity. “What this will suffice us!”
Galzon looked at Belzon, his eyes still jet black. "Belzon, thou shalt make the ceremonial cut, young one. Come forth."
The governor hesitated, glancing back at Syrio, who nodded solemnly. With a deep breath, Belzon stepped forward, his hand trembling as he took the ceremonial sabre from Galzon.
His elder brother whispered in Belzon's ear, "Remember, this is the power of our people, the power that runs through your veins. It’s time you embrace it."
Galzon approached the pit, looking down at the len, who stared back with pleading eyes. Governor Grazzli hand wavered, but he knew that to refuse would be to reveal his true feelings and face the wrath of the Society of the Shadow's Veil.
With a deep breath, Belzon plunged the sabre into the Lyban's flesh. The len screamed in agony, but his cries were quickly drowned out by the chanting of the Venganzi. The shadows in the room grew darker, and Belzon felt an icy chill run down his spine as the power of the ritual.
Galzon reached into his robe, and extracted a strange glinting silver mirror. He raised it above his head, and the chanting reached a crescendo. The Lyban’s eyes dilated and he began to shake violently. The shadows in the room swirled together, forming a vortex of darkness above the pit. The air crackled with energy, the flames from the torches dimmed and the Venganzi stared in awe as the Lyban immolated in flame, illuminating the tomb far brighter than it had been before.
The Lyban’s face began to deform, revealing a monstrous, fierce face of a beast, its form shifting and changing as the flames that surrounded him writhed and twisted. Galzon elevated himself, and the rest of the Society followed suit, beginning to circle the pit rapidly, in formation.
”BEHOLD! What the CURS truly are!”
The crowd gasped and was taken aback. The burning Lyban had grown significantly, and was now hunched over, bearing fangs and claws. The foul smell of burning hair and flesh filled the air as the beast whimpered and roared gutterally.
"Umbraneth," Galzon intoned, his voice filled with reverence, "we offer this sacrifice, beyond thy starry veil, that thou might grant us the power to strike down our enemies and reclaim our rightful place in this world."
“Today, denizens beyond the veil… we offer this lyban cur… please smile upon it. Tomorrow…”
“We will purge the abominable from your sight.” Said Galzon, with conviction. “Hail.”
Belzon immediately broke his act and shuddered. He knew that could mean only one thing.
SÍBELA. He thought to himself, his thoughts turning to his beautiful daughter.
Galzon looked down upon the len, his form still warped and enflamed. A hairy beast with cat-like eyes… membranes and bones protruding from him. The dark, wet ground below was rippling like the surface of a black pool. His voice joined the chorus, and was a deep, guttural growl that seemed to resonate within the very bones of those present.
Galzon opened his mouth, and a flaming vortex entered the pit, engulfing it with flames. The herbs, damp with the alchemical concoctions caused the flame to burn violet and then green, then a deep reddish-purple. The deposed sacrifice quickly dissipated into nothingness, leaving nothing but his blackened skeleton. The Venganzi, their faces alight with fervor, began to disperse, their voices filled with excitement and anticipation. Galzon, his face now returning as it was, swooped into the tophet. The skeleton was emitting a strange resonance. He chanted, and the smoke seemed to sparkle, and permeate all the ven present… those with any remote sign of aging seemed to return to blissful youth… and those who were much slower were now brimming with energy. Galzon hovered back to the head and joined the chant.
“HAIL! HAIL!” They clamored.
“TO THE LORD OF THE NINE WINDS OF UMBRANETH, THE UNSEEN ONE,”
“HAIL!”
The chanting reached a crescendo. The shadows in the room swirled together, forming a vortex of darkness above the pit. The air crackled with energy, and the Venganzi stared in awe as a massive, shadowy figure emerged from the flames of the tophet.
The figure was changing as the shadows that composed it writhed and twisted. Galzon bowed low before the figure, and the rest of the Society followed suit.
"What message comes from beyond the Shadow’s Veil?" Galzon intoned, his voice filled with reverence. The figure looked down upon the Venganzi, its form rippling like the surface of a black pool. Its voice was a faint whisper that seemed to resonate within the very bones of those present. "This mirror realm of shadow has advanced greatly due to your efforts. Well done.”
“...one of thy sons has fallen… as the days of Yol… The omen…”
“I know the omen of which you speak. It need not be true.”
“What would our father have us do?”
The figure seemed to flicker in the flames.
“...Your offering of a descendant of the usurper’s court pleases the realm. What is your desire?"
Galzon, his voice resolute and filled with determination, turned his attention once again to the flickering flames in the center of the chamber. The air crackled with otherworldly energy as he spoke, his words cutting through the silence.
"Most honorable messenger of Umbraneth," Galzon called out, his voice echoing with authority. "Reveal to us the one responsible for slaying our comrade. We seek the truth that lies veiled in shadows."
As if in response to his command, the flames danced and swirled, their ethereal glow intensifying. From within the fiery depths emerged a ghostly apparition, its figure formed by the interplay of light and shadow. The apparition's eyes glowed with an otherworldly intensity, fixing upon Galzon with an eerie gaze.
"Yes. I know whom you seek." With a voice that seemed to echo from beyond, the apparition spoke, its words carrying an ethereal chill. "Nael" it whispered, the name dripping with a spectral resonance. "A hunter, born of ancient bloodline and sworn nemesis of the Venganzi and Umbraneth. He is... Veyná. Yol's spawn."
The crowd shivered, their breaths held captive by the haunting revelation. The mention of Nael, a name steeped in history and enmity, hung in the air like a phantom presence.
Galzon's brow furrowed, his mind racing to process the implications of the apparition's words. The revelation struck at the core of their struggle, exposing the age-old conflict between the Veyna and the Venganzi.
"Nael," Galzon repeated, his voice filled with a mix of solemnity and conviction. "The... Veyná? They still linger here?"
"Yes. They have hidden themselves in the shadows of Etria... watching you."
The crowd stirred, their emotions caught between shock and determination. The revelation demanded action, challenging them to confront the ancient foe that lurked in the shadows.
Galzon raised his gaze, meeting the eyes of those gathered. "The flames have spoken, revealing the source of our comrade's demise. Let it be known that we shall not falter. We will face Nael, this... Veyná hunter, and hold them accountable for their actions... If it is true they have endured to this age... our society will lead the charge for all Ven and exterminate the Veyná once and for all."
His words hung in the air, carrying with them a resolute call to arms. The revelation had set a course, one that would test their resolve and ignite the flames of vengeance.
"Good. Go, then."
The figure vanished back into the vortex, which dissipated into nothingness. The Venganzi, their faces alight with fervor, began to disperse, their voices filled with excitement and anticipation.
Galzon closed his eyes as he received their praise.
Syrio looked around, hoping to look with satisfaction on his brother’s face, who undoubtedly should have felt the same remarkable empowerment from the ritual as the rest of them had.
He was not there.
Venzio, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction, surveyed the members of the Society of the Shadow's Veil as they basked in the aftermath of the ritual. He could sense their hunger, their need for sustenance to replenish the energy they had expended in their dark communion. With a sly smile, he addressed them, his voice filled with authority and charm.
"Of course, I would not hath summoned thee without providing... a meal," he said, his voice smooth as silk, his eyes glittering with anticipation.
With a snap of his fingers, he opened a hidden gate that connected to the bowl of the tophet. The sound of metal grinding against stone echoed throughout the chamber as the gate creaked open, revealing a group of chortling pigs. The animals, unaware of their impending fate, stumbled into the chamber, their hooves clattering against the cold stone floor. Syrio’s attention could not resist the delight of the sight.
At the sight of the living feast before them, the Venganzi's eyes widened, and their mouths began to open. They could hardly contain their hunger as they licked their lips and bared their teeth, ready to sate their ravenous appetites.
With a nod from Galzon, the Venganzi pounced, their movements swift and predatory. They descended upon the pigs, tearing into their flesh with savage abandon. The once peaceful chamber now echoed with the frenzied sounds of feasting.
As the Venganzi feasted, Galzon stood back, observing the gruesome scene with a twisted sense of pride. This was the power of the Society of the Shadow's Veil, a power that they wielded, and one that would be used to reshape the world according to their dark desires. With the ritual complete and their hunger sated, they knew… something had shifted.
He grinned with delight.
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During the commotion of the feast, Belzon had escaped with haste. He raced through the wet tunnels, his mind reeling from what he had just witnessed. He knew that he had just participated in something ancient and terrible, and as he looked down at the lifeless body of the once lyban, he felt a deep sense of unease settle within him.
As Belzon hovered, almost gliding, his heart ached for his daughter Síbela, whose very existence was now threatened by the insatiable hunger of their Emperor, the Venrex. The events of the evening had been a harrowing reminder of the terrible legacy he had inherited and the precarious position he now found himself in. This confirmed his previous hesitancy with his brother's secret affairs. The Society of the Shadow's Veil, driven by ancient vendettas and a thirst for power, was a force to be reckoned with. But Belzon could not stand idly by as the defenseless were sacrificed for their dark desires.
With every ounce of his being, Belzon vowed to protect his daughter and find a way to shield her from the Society's clutches. As a father, he was willing to risk it all for the love of his child. As he made his way through the labyrinth of darkness, the fire of determination burned within him, lighting the way to the uncertain future that awaited. No matter the cost, he would stand against the darkness that threatened to engulf them, even if it meant leaving Venganzi society.
For a moment, Belzon found himself conflicted, questioning everything. The Fioran Empire was his entire world, his daughter’s future… or so he thought. Now he realized. It was in Fiora that the heart of the darkness that seemed to be consuming the entire world, after the Great Plague came. He knew that the path before him would be fraught with danger, and that any misstep could lead to his own destruction.
With a heavy heart, Belzon resolved to play his part as Governor for now, knowing that his days were numbered. He would continue to serve the Fioran Empire, but only as long as it took to ensure the safety and well-being of his beloved daughter. As he made his way through the catacombs, the fire of determination burned within him, lighting the way to the uncertain future that awaited.
No matter the cost, he would stand against the darkness that threatened to engulf them and find a way to shield his daughter from the Society's clutches. He would use his position as governor to gather intelligence, forge alliances, and devise a plan to save Síbela at all costs. In the end, Belzon knew that he might have to sacrifice his own life to protect the one he loved. He swore. He swore in the void in his Venganzi chest, where a heart would be…