They slipped away from the gathering, their bodies feeling as cold as the dead, as if the warmth of their spirits had been leached away by the horror they had just witnessed. The grand hall's opulence now seemed garish and obscene, a gilded cage built upon the bones of the innocent. The laughter and music of the masquerade ball grew fainter with each step, the vibrant colors of the tapestries bleeding into the shadows, leaving only the stark reality of their mission ahead.

The image of the nobility, their palms sliced open and offered like sacrifices on the altar of power, was seared into their retinas. It was a scene that would haunt their dreams, a tableau of blood and delusion that epitomized the corruption the prophecy had wrought. As they moved through the corridors, the very stones of the mansion seemed to whisper of the ancient secrets it had been forced to bear witness to, secrets that now painted the walls with the crimson of truth.

And as they stepped into the moonlit courtyard, the cool night air a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the hall, Castrol's legs buckled beneath him. He crumpled to the ground, his hand releasing his sword with a clatter that seemed to shatter the silence. Millie rushed to his side, her heart in her throat. "Are you okay?" she whispered, her voice a frantic hiss.

He looked up at her, his eyes haunted by the shadows of what they had just seen. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. The words had lodged themselves in his throat, a lump of lead that refused to be spoken. The revelation of the Tobias plans had struck him mute, a silent scream echoing through the hollow caverns of his mind. The weight of it all, the inhumanity and the horror, had settled upon him like a cloak of despair, smothering his voice.

Their eyes locked, and in that silent communion, Millie understood. The gravity of their discovery had rendered Castrol speechless, leaving him to grapple with the monstrous reality of their world. She crouched beside him, her hand on his shoulder, offering silent support as he struggled to regain his composure. The courtyard's moonlit stones bore mute witness to their anguish, the statues' marble eyes seemingly filled with pity for the mortals who had gazed into the abyss of the divine and had their illusions shattered.

With a gentle squeeze, Millie spoke, her voice a whisper that seemed to carry the weight of their shared burden. "We must leave this place," she urged, her eyes filled with a fierce determination that was a stark contrast to the horror that had transpired inside. "We need to speak with Arteus. Together, we can stop this madness, this...this blasphemy."

Castrol nodded, his eyes still glazed with shock as he pushed himself to his feet. The cold stone of the courtyard was a stark reminder of the cold reality they had stumbled upon. The grandiose façade of the prophecy had crumbled, leaving in its wake a twisted web of manipulation and soul-binding that seemed to have no end. What had surprised them most was that Tobias Kingg had made no attempt to hide his true intentions. He had laid out his plan before them, as if their consent was merely a formality in the face of his divine right to rule.

This revelation painted Kingg in a new, terrifying light. He was not a mere charismatic leader or a cunning manipulator; he was a man who truly believed in his own infallibility. A man who feared nothing and no one. This was a man who had looked into the abyss of power and had seen not a reflection of his own mortality but a path to become a god. His smile had not wavered, not even when the truth of his intentions had been laid bare, as if the very act of speaking the darkest of secrets brought him joy.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

As they approached the heavy, ornate door that led to Arteus' shack, Castrol and Millie felt a sudden chill that seemed to seep into their very bones. The moon cast eerie shadows across the cobblestone path, and the distant howling of the wind carried whispers of the prophecy's dark secrets. They had traveled far, dodging patrols and navigating the treacherous streets of Sovereign, their hearts heavy with the revelation of Kingg's twisted truth.

They paused for a moment, their eyes meeting in silent contemplation. Millie knocked firmly on the door, her hand trembling slightly with the weight of their newfound knowledge. The sound echoed through the stillness of the now morning sky, a stark counterpoint to the revelry they had just left behind. The wood was rough and unyielding under her knuckles, a stark contrast to the velvety opulence of the mansion's grand hall.

The door swung open, and there was Arteus, his eyes heavy with sleep, his usual demeanor of stoic calmness seemingly untouched by the chaos that had just unfolded. "What is it?" he rumbled, his voice thick with the grogginess of an early morning disturbance. "Why are you here so early?"

But as Castrol and Millie stepped into the moonlit frame of the doorway, the light played across their expressions, and something in their eyes told Arteus that their visit was far from ordinary. He took in their disheveled clothes, the tension in their shoulders, the stark pallor of their faces, and his question was answered without a word spoken. Understanding dawned on him like a thunderclap, and he stepped aside, beckoning them in with a sweep of his hand. "Tell me everything," he said, his voice urgent.

The room was sparse, a stark contrast to the opulence they had just escaped. A single candle flickered on a wooden table, casting shadows across the floorboards that danced with the flame's erratic rhythm. They sat around the table, the flame throwing elongated shadows across their faces, and Castrol began to speak, his voice low and measured, as if each word was a painful confession. He recounted the events of the night—the masquerade of loyalty and the hidden ceremony of blood, the chilling sight of the nobility's willingness to sacrifice for a lie dressed as salvation. His eyes never left Arteus' face, searching for a spark of hope or a flicker of anger, anything to prove that their cause was not in vain.

Arteus listened with a stoic expression, his eyes unblinking as he absorbed the horrors of Tobias' plans. His jaw was clenched, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table, but his face remained an unreadable mask. It was as if he had steeled himself for the worst, and yet, the truth was a blow that seemed to resonate through his very soul. His eyes, once filled with a quiet wisdom, now burned with a fierce determination that seemed to cast the shadows around them into starker relief.

When Castrol and Millie had finished recounting their harrowing tale, the silence that fell was thick and heavy, a mournful silence that seemed to envelop the room. It was as if the very air had become a tangible presence, weighing down on their shoulders like a shroud of despair. For a long moment, no one spoke, the only sound the soft hiss of the candle flame.

Finally, Arteus broke the silence, his voice low and gravely. "There is someone I need to speak with," he said, his eyes never leaving Castrol's. "Hopefully it's not too late" He rose from the table, his movements deliberate and precise, as if the very act of standing required an immense effort of will.

But just as he did so, suddenly, a barrage of knocks at the door sent a jolt of fear through the room, the sharp rapping echoing like the beat of a drum in the stillness. Castrol and Millie exchanged a panicked glance, their hearts racing. The sound was insistent, almost angry, a stark contrast to the solemnity of their conversation.

The door swung open with a force that sent the candlelight swinging wildly across the walls, and in the doorway stood Lilly, her clothes disheveled and her eyes wide with terror. Her cheeks were smudged with dirt, her hair matted with leaves and twigs, and her breath came in ragged gasps. Whatever word's Arteus had for the unruly knocks died in his mouth at the sight of her, and Millie's hand flew to her chest, stifling a gasp.

Surely this day couldn't get any worse...

-To Be Continued-