Vas left the apartment with purpose, contacting each member of the Scriptorum Arcanum as Morrigan had instructed. He set up a time and date for the group, relaying Morrigan's plan to give them personalized lessons. Her intent was to accelerate their skill development and cultivate each member's unique abilities. As he worked through the list, Vas shot a quick text to Lily to ask if Madeline and Anya had time for a chat; he wanted to tell them about the group and potentially invite them to join. Morrigan had warned, however, that she'd evaluate them first to ensure they were a good fit. This brought another question to Vas' mind: how could Morrigan guarantee that none of the members would betray them?
Without hesitation, Morrigan responded, "It's already handled. During the initiation, one layer of the sigil I placed is inscribed on their souls. From the moment they pledged, they owe absolute loyalty. If any of them even think about betrayal, their souls will shatter automatically."
A laugh escaped Vas, half amused, half satisfied. "Harsh but effective," he muttered. He genuinely hoped no one would ever consider such a thing.
Returning to his room, he prepared himself to track down the contacts Nyra had given him—people who had once pledged loyalty to her but had turned at the promise of a quick reward. He knew he needed the right presence to make an impression. Morrigan, sensing his thoughts, chimed in with a suggestion.
"Use Biolux. An oversized black coat, something that nearly engulfs you, with subtle green hues running through it. Black clothes beneath, maybe dark boots with reinforced soles. It'll give you the air of a figure out of legend, someone to be feared, someone... unstoppable."
The image resonated with him. He pulled Biolux from his personal effects, shifting it as Morrigan instructed. The coat settled around his shoulders like a shroud, its length brushing against his calves. Subtle glimmers of green ran through the fabric, just noticeable enough to suggest something uncanny. A light leather underlay and dark combat boots completed the look, adding a silent, imposing weight to his stride.
Satisfied with the transformation, Vas turned to the mirror. The figure staring back was one he almost didn't recognize: a mysterious, intimidating figure with a hint of the otherworldly. "Perfect," he murmured, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
As night fell, Vas set out, his silent form cutting through the shadows. The streetlights reflected off the faint green in his coat, amplifying the mysterious aura around him as he moved toward the addresses Nyra had given. His mind sharpened, he focused on each target, ready to make an impression they wouldn't soon forget.
Vas set out with grim purpose. Nyra had specified three former allies who needed a stark lesson. His first target, a wealthy businessman, was seated in the glow of a fine dining room, engrossed in conversation with his wife, oblivious to what lurked in the shadows. Their mansion was a fortress of modern luxury, guarded by private security at every corner. But that night, Vas was a shadow with purpose, watching the scene from afar, the glint of his Tenebra Blades barely visible in the moonlight. He hadn't yet used their skill, Phantom Step, on a live target. The ability allowed him to become spectral, slipping through walls and physical barriers—but at a price. It could only activate in areas shrouded in darkness, and the mansion's low light met that condition well. Yet the ability was taxing, causing disorientation and blurring his vision even after he regained physical form. He'd managed only three-second intervals during practice, enough time to make his move.
With a quiet breath, Vas activated Phantom Step, his form shifting into a ghostly silhouette. Moving as a specter, he bypassed the mansion's guards, his ethereal figure slipping through walls like mist. The private security seemed robust, but their eyes were dull to the darkness; Vas picked them off one by one, a ghostly wire from the Tenebra Blades coiling around their necks like a spider's web before they even saw him. Their bodies slumped silently into the shadows. With each guard dispatched, an unnatural silence settled over the mansion.
Once the grounds were clear, he held up Thundershard and unleashed a small surge of energy, overloading the mansion's power grid. The lights flickered, then died, plunging the mansion into an oppressive darkness. In the pitch black, Vas re-entered Phantom Step, drifting through the walls of the house like a spirit haunting his prey. He allowed himself to materialize just enough so the businessman could see him.
A shimmering, translucent figure took shape at the far end of the dining room, eyes gleaming coldly in the candlelight. The businessman froze, his face draining of color as he stared at the specter standing before him.
"Turning your back on Nyra Blackwell was a mistake," Vas's voice was low, distorted, like an echo from beyond the grave. Each word seemed to hang in the air, chilling the man to the bone.
The businessman stammered, his eyes wild with fear. "But… she has no one left to protect her! Without The Scribes, she's—she's alone!" he managed, voice cracking.
Vas solidified, stepping out of the spectral form to let the full weight of his presence fall on the man. His dark coat, lined subtly with glowing green, seemed to ripple in the shadows, giving him the appearance of some ancient, unholy wraith.
"Does what happened tonight make you think she's alone?" Vas replied, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. The man's face was ashen, his hand clutching his chest as if the fear itself were going to stop his heart. He could barely form a response, his mouth opening and closing uselessly.
Vas took a slow step backward, his gaze never leaving the man. "If you ever turn your back on her again," he said, each word punctuated with a slow, cold cadence, "I'll be back. And next time, it won't end with a warning."