The guild hall still pulsed with the weight of Kiaran's recent duel, the tension heavy in the air like an approaching storm. He felt the eyes upon him as he made his way through the shadowed corridors: wary, fearful, and curious. Those who had once given him nods of solidarity now looked away or muttered in low, guarded tones. His victory had broken more than the pride of his opponent; it had uprooted the balance and evoked a fear nobody dared speak of in the open.

Whispers followed him like phantoms, phrases drifting from unseen lips: "dangerous," "unstable," "a threat." The words slipped from conversations halted as he drew near. They feared him, not just for his power, but for the way he controlled it — or, as some believed, for the way it controlled him.

Kiaran ignored them, burying his disdain in an icy gaze that cut through their trepidation. Fear was a good tool, he reminded himself; it could be wielded like any other blade. Of course, with it came the danger of treachery — shattered alliances, comrades turned. No friends, he told himself; wolves watching for the first weakness to strike.

When he had finally gone to his rooms, no comfort was found in the isolation. Sitting in the dim light, Kiaran thought on the cost of his rise, the shifting faces and hidden agendas of those around him. His thoughts darkened as he weighed each meeting, every slight shift in allegiance. He knew, however that he would survive. His enemies underestimated the depth of his resolve and that would be their fall.

A sharp knock tore him from his thoughts. He tensed and knew the silhouette through the crack of the door: Eira.

"Kiaran," she whispered urgently. She slipped inside, casting a wary glance over her shoulder as if the walls themselves were listening. "I didn't want to come to you like this, but. there's something you need to know."

His eyes cleared; his face suddenly unreadable. "Speak."

"They're holding a meeting tonight. Without you," she said, each word coming out slow and deliciously chosen. "The guild leaders… it's an assessment of your powers, your… control." He felt a chill settle into his chest. "A meeting," he repeated, voice flat.

Eira nodded, her face tensed. "They are afraid of what you're becoming, Kiaran. And when people are afraid…" She left the words hanging, their implications dark and unspoken.

Kiaran stood up, his movements controlled but filled with barely restrained anger. "Where and when?" he demanded, his voice like ice.

Eira hesitated, her gaze flickering with unspoken concerns. "There's more. They're considering stripping you of the relic."

He could feel the fire ignite within, hear his pulse quicken with the weight of her words. "Let them try," he hissed, his tone dripping with contempt. He turned toward the door, and already his mind was calculating.

"Kiaran… this is different. They're thinking to bring in outsiders, those who specialize in handling… threats."

He straightened. Outsiders? He'd always known the guild kept hidden all those afraid of his power, but seeking external aid was a different thing altogether. It meant they feared him something beyond their power to control. "Thanks, Eira," he said, his voice soft but heavy with an edge. "I want to see for myself, quietly."

Eira's hand clutched his mantle as he turned to depart. Her voice was hardly above a breath. "Be wary. There are eyes everywhere.

He nodded and disappeared into the darkened hallway, blending into the shadows as he moved along the stone paths that twisted through the guild. Flickers of torchlight illuminated his passage as he made his way to a secret passage that would take him into the council chamber, hiding away in an alcove where he might remain unseen but close enough to hear every word.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

The chamber was already thick with people when he came, guild leaders gathering, faces tense under the dim light. Kiaran looked down from his shadows, studying each face as it filled the room, from Lysander at the top. His face was impassive, unreadable, but his eyes were full of a cold sharpness that made Kiaran shiver.

Shall we begin, then? said Lysander, his voice ringing out through the hall. Kiaran's ascent has been a source of great. interest. He may be a boon to some. But to others, he may prove a threat we cannot in good conscience overlook.

A veteran fighter, known for his unforgiving nature, was the first to speak. “We aren’t dealing with just another strong fighter. He has a relic that’s bound to his very soul, and that relic… it changes him. If he turns, who among us could hope to stand against him?”

Murmurs of assent echoed through the hall. He sat there, fists coiled at the return, jaw clenched as he watched them make their plans. He had spilled blood for these people; defended them; and now, like carrion crows, they circled.

Another voice cut through, soft and venomous. "Perhaps it's time to send the relic back to a. safer vessel. One who values loyalty over vengeance."

These words dangled heavy, and Kiaran's breath slowed; the anger brewing within him was held in check by a tenuous lid of restraint. No one hid the fact that they doubted him. Still, hearing them spoken out loud was very different.

Then there was the man in black robes. It was Kiaran who noticed him-a senior member of their guild and one not known to speak much, preferring to subsist in shadows. His voice dripped with chill calm. "There could be others outside of this guild, people familiar with this type of power and not afraid to use methods some here may deem questionable"

The room grew silent, as if his suggestion sank into them all like fog. Kiaran narrowed his eyes. So, they would stoop so low as to scheme with the forces of beyond the guild? The treachery he had expected was not this deep.

Lysander looked uneasy, shifted as if the weight of the decision pressed upon him. "If we take this road, then we are forced to tread it carefully. Strangers bring with them their own dangers, and misjudgment may be our downfall."

The robed figure's face hardened. "Caution is what permitted him to grow unbridled. The time for patience is over. He has shown us enough. He will not serve himself to our expectations, and he wields a power not to be bound in place.

Above him, in the shadows, Kiaran's eyes never wavered, and each word fired his anger as coal to smolder. This relic they sought to take from him had chosen him, and tied it to his spirit as it was tempered by his will, for them to seize it for their own purpose.

He knew at that instant that there would be no coexistence, no coemption. It was no concerned council, but a den of wolves plotting its next meal. His lips twisted into a dark smile, promising retribution. Let them conspire. He would be prepared.

The meeting finally adjourned, the guild masters vanishing into the darkened hallways, their footsteps heavy with the weight of what awaited them. Kiaran vanished as well, moving stealthily in reverse, until he stood outside the barren training area. There, a councilman-stoically alone, his eyes vacant-waited for him.

"Kiaran?" he stammered, turning his face pale at the sight of him.

Kiaran's stare dug into him, cold and unblinking. "So, your part of it," he said, voice low and dangerous. "Part of their scheme to strip me of my relic."

The man shifted uncomfortably, trying and failing to look away from Kiaran's piercing gaze. "You… misunderstand. It's not like that. We fear what might happen if you—"

"Fear me?"

Kiaran's laughter was acid-tipped, a sound hollowed out by betrayal. "You've made sure there's something to fear."

His voice dropped, every word a razor's edge. "Who are these allies you're conspiring with? What dark forces are you bringing into my home?"

He took a deep breath, visibly battling to keep himself under control. "Kiaran. you don't get it. This is something greater than us, something with so much power. even you could be overwhelmed. We have to let go if we want to survive." Kiaran's lips curled up in a wicked grin. "Try me."

The man went white over his words, terror rolling his features as he stepped backward, retreating into the shadows. Kiaran let him go, observing how the man fled, footsteps echoing in the silent space.

Kiaran stood alone in the moonlit yard, his thoughts darker than the night that cloaked him. They had their plan and whatever forces they were throwing at him; it was not going to be enough.