'Okay scrap that, lets ask her something else.' She didn't seem to like that question.

I needed to tread carefully. Too much curiosity would make her suspicious, and too little would be wasted effort. "So, what's the world like beyond Centrallis?" I asked, feigning indifference. "I've heard it's full of strange places."

Her eyes flicked toward me. It was a common enough question, something anyone unfamiliar with the world outside the capital might ask. "The lands beyond Centrallis? Depends on where you're headed. To the west, you have the wild plains of Verdantis. To the east, the scorching deserts of Igniria. Southward, well, that's Thalassia's realm—the kingdom of islands and ocean, in the sky is the floating realm, Aethera." She spoke easily, her voice smooth, as if this was a subject she had recited many times before. She wasn't giving anything away.

I nodded, pretending to take her words in stride. "And the families? The ones who hold real power?"

Her posture stiffened ever so slightly, though her tone stayed casual. "Everyone knows about the Four Families. You've got the Oswins, of course, holding the human seat. Then there's the Valenwoods, the elven house with the longest-standing pact with the gods. The Sylphais family—winged humans, or Aethari—rule the skies from the peaks of Aetheris. And finally... the mighty Drakaryn, a family with the blood of dragons coursing through their veins, wielding powers few can even comprehend."

She paused, letting the word hang in the air between us. "Few people outside of their circles know much about them, but their influence runs deep."

I pretended to fumble with my cup, letting her words sink in before responding. "The dragons? They're more than just myth?"

"They're real," she said, leaning in slightly, her eyes narrowing as if testing me. "And they have their own agenda, just like everyone else. So, what's your interest in all this? Doesn't seem like the kind of knowledge a common traveler would need."

I shrugged, trying to appear casual. "Just curious. Heard stories growing up, wanted to know what's true and what isn't."

She studied me for a moment, the weight of her gaze making it clear she wasn't convinced. "Curiosity is dangerous when it comes to the Four Families. It's not just old legends—there's history, blood, and power in their story. Why do you think they're the ones in control?"

I leaned back in my seat, folding my arms. "That's what I want to know. Why them? What makes them the ones who hold power over everyone else?"

She tilted her head slightly, considering her response. "The Four Families aren't just rulers by chance. They are bound by something greater—the Divine Contract. Centuries ago, when the world was on the brink of destruction, the gods made a pact with four mortal families. It's said the contents of that contract are known only to the families themselves, but it granted them immense power and responsibilities. They protect the balance between the realms of the gods and mortals, at least in theory."

I narrowed my eyes. "And no one knows what's in the contract? No scholars? No scribes?"

She shook her head. "No one. The contract is sacred, sealed by the gods themselves. It's a mystery, even among the most powerful in Aeloria. What we do know is that the pact granted the families their power, their longevity, and their rule over the continent of Centrallis."

My mind raced. The Divine Contract—this was what set the Oswins, the Valenwoods, the Aethari, and the Drakaryn apart. They didn't just hold power; they were chosen. But by whom, and for what purpose? I was never told anything about this by my father either.

"How did Centrallis come to be the center of power?" I asked, my voice steady.

She paused, "Centrallis wasn't always like this. Before the contract, the world was fragmented—endless war between humans, elves, and other races. The gods saw the chaos and intervened. They decreed that Centrallis would be a continent for all, a place where peace could be maintained by the Four Families. It was their way of restoring order. The capital was built as a symbol of unity, but the truth? It's a battleground for influence and control, masked by peace."

Her words lingered in the air as I processed them. "So the Four Families rule because of divine right?"

"Divine right," she echoed, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Or divine manipulation, depending on how you look at it. The families protect the balance, but they also protect their own interests. Power corrupts, no matter how pure the original intention was."

"And no one questions them?" I asked, leaning forward. "No one tries to take that power for themselves?"

She let out a small, humorless laugh. "Oh, plenty have tried. Rebellions, conspiracies, alliances of lesser houses—they all ended in failure. The Four Families don't just hold power. They _are_ power. The Oswins, Valenwoods, Aethari, and Drakaryn are tied to something ancient and unyielding. Challenging them is like challenging the very fabric of the Veil itself."

I frowned, mulling over her words. "The Divine Contract, the protection of the Veil... It all seems too controlled, too convenient. What happens if one of the families falls? Or if the contract is broken?"

Her eyes narrowed, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something—fear, perhaps, or a deeper knowledge she was reluctant to share. "No one knows what would happen. Maybe nothing. Maybe the world would descend into chaos. But one thing is certain: no family has ever fallen. The gods chose them for a reason, and that reason... is still playing out."

Silence hung between us for a moment. The weight of her words, combined with the mystery of the Divine Contract, painted a picture of a world more fragile than I'd imagined. The power of the families wasn't just in their wealth or influence. It was something much deeper, something tied to the very essence of the world.

"And what about you?" I asked, my voice quieter now. "Where do you fit into all this?"

She smiled faintly, a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. "Let's just say I have my own reasons for knowing what I know. But the less you know about me, the better."

She leaned back, crossing her arms. "Now, I've given you more than enough for a common traveler. The information you've asked for has value, and I don't give it out for free."

My jaw tightened. "What do you want?"

Her smile widened slightly. "I need a favor—a small one, really. I've got some goods that need to be exported outside the city, but... I need someone to help with the arrangements. Call it compensation for the knowledge I've shared with you."

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

"Goods?" I frowned. "That's a little too much, even for the information you've given me."

She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Oh, trust me. The information I've given you is worth far more than you realize. Now, do we have a deal, or are you going to waste more of my time?"

I hesitated, the weight of her words pressing down on me. I didn't trust her, not entirely, but I needed to know more. About the families, the Veil, and the Divine Contract. And if helping her with this so-called favor got me closer to the answers I needed, then maybe it was worth the risk.

"Fine," I said, standing. "I'll help you with your goods."

"Good," she said, rising to her feet. "Let's go."

...

The streets of Harmony were quieter than usual as we walked toward the warehouse district. The shadows seemed to press in around us, the usual bustling energy replaced by an eerie stillness.

"Not too far now," she said, her voice low but calm.

The warehouse stood at the edge of the city, its doors heavy and worn. She led the way inside, and I followed, my senses heightened. Crates and barrels lined the walls, but it didn't take long for me to notice something off. A group of men were already inside, shuffling around like they didn't belong.

"Something's not right," I whispered, stopping her in her tracks.

She glanced around, her hand already inching toward her side. Before either of us could react, the men turned toward us, their faces hidden beneath hoods. I recognized the symbols on their cloaks immediately—symbols I had seen during the attack on the Oswin estate.

"Cultists," I muttered, my heart racing.

Without warning, one of them lunged forward, a knife gleaming in the dim light. I moved instinctively, sidestepping the attack as I reached for the Veil. The connection came easily, more fluid than ever. I could feel the pulse of mana surrounding me, a familiar heartbeat that steadied my nerves.

Beside me, she moved with surprising agility, slipping through the chaos with an almost unnatural grace. Her steps were deliberate, precise, each motion calculated to avoid the incoming strikes. Her eyes, narrowed in concentration, seemed to shimmer as she tapped into the Veil's energy, her movements laced with a fluid, ethereal glow. I could feel the subtle pull of mana from her, but something about it felt off. It wasn't the raw, explosive power I had expected from someone hiding beneath a disguise. It was controlled—too controlled, like she was holding back or hiding something.

I slashed through the air, my blade cleaving through one of the cultists who rushed me. The force of the Veil surged through my veins, my heart pounding as I connected deeper to its energy. The more I drew from it, the more alive I felt. My strikes became heavier, my movements faster. I could hear the pulse of power thundering in my ears, feel the mana swirling around me, molding itself to my will.

But as I glanced at her, I realized something strange. Her magic wasn't like mine. It didn't crackle with raw force or bend the air around her with sheer intensity. It was quieter, more refined. She moved with an almost dancer-like precision, dodging blows and sending small bursts of magic to deflect attacks or weaken our enemies. But the power she used wasn't meant for combat—it was meant for endurance, for sustaining herself in the fight rather than overwhelming the opposition.

I swung my blade in a wide arc, catching another cultist across the chest, and then turned to her. "You're holding back!"

She shot me a sharp look, a bead of sweat tracing her temple as she parried a blow with a quick flick of her wrist. "Not everyone fights the same, Oswin. My magic's different."

Of course, she'd figured it out. My face was no longer hidden, and in Centrallis, there weren't many with platinum hair and blue eyes.

I ducked under an incoming strike, retaliating with a quick thrust of my sword, the cultist crumpling to the ground. "Different how? This isn't the time to hide things from me!"

She didn't respond immediately, her focus split between me and the enemies swarming around us. With a swift motion, she extended her hand, sending a shimmering barrier of mana rippling outward, pushing back several attackers. "I specialize in regeneration," she said through gritted teeth. "I can sustain this fight, but not with the kind of destructive force you're throwing around. My magic isn't about brute strength. It's about balance."

"Balance?" I grunted, slicing through another cultist. "We're outnumbered. I need more than balance."

Her eyes flickered with something I couldn't quite place—frustration, perhaps, or the reluctance of revealing a truth she'd kept hidden. Another cultist lunged at her, and she narrowly dodged the strike, her hair glowing faintly in the dim light. "I can't—"

Before she could finish, a group of cultists flanked us from the left. They were faster, more coordinated, and I felt a surge of panic rise in my chest. My blade was a blur as I fought them off, but the tide of enemies was growing heavier. We were getting overwhelmed.

"Now's not the time for holding back!" I shouted, my voice strained.

Her disguise began to falter. She was losing control, the Veil's connection slipping from her grasp as the battle intensified. And then, as if something snapped inside her, her hands glowed brighter, and her entire form shimmered. I watched in disbelief as her dark hair began to shift, turning from ebony black to a radiant gold. Her ears, once hidden, elongated and pointed, unmistakably elven.

"An elf?" I asked, barely dodging another strike.

She didn't answer, instead focusing on her magic. Her mana replenished itself quickly, allowing her to maintain her stamina in the fight, but it lacked the devastating impact I was able to achieve.

Her eyes met mine, now glowing with an ethereal light. "You want more? Fine. But it comes at a cost."

In an instant, the air around us shifted. She moved her hands in intricate patterns, tracing sigils in the air, and the mana around her seemed to amplify. A surge of energy pulsed from her core, but it wasn't explosive. Instead, the magic she wielded spread through the ground beneath us, connecting with the earth and the trees around the battlefield. The very environment responded to her call.

Roots burst from the soil, entangling several cultists and pulling them to the ground. The earth itself seemed to shift under her command, slowing our enemies as they fought to free themselves. But her breathing was heavier now, labored. This was the price of her magic—sustaining it came at a cost to her own strength.

"Is this enough for you?" she spat, clearly straining. "Or do you want more?"

"Keep going!" I shouted, stepping in front of her to shield her from another wave of cultists. "I'll handle the rest!"

I tapped into the Veil once more, feeling the familiar burn of its power course through me. But this time, I pushed further. I opened myself to the Veil in a way I hadn't before, letting it flow through me with no hesitation, no restraint. I could feel the energy surge through my heart, connecting deeper than it had before. My pulse raced, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow as I felt the Veil itself respond.

The cultist charging toward me froze in mid-motion. The air around him thickened, distorted by the raw power coursing through me. I didn't think—I simply acted. With a single, sweeping motion of my blade, I sent a shockwave of energy rippling through the ground, tearing into the cultists and sending them flying backward.

But I wasn't done. I could feel the Veil thrumming inside me, its power urging me to push further, to reach for more. I raised my hand and focused, pulling the energy inward, compressing it until it burned in my chest. Then, with a burst of force, I released it, sending a blast of pure mana out in a wide arc. The cultists in its path crumpled instantly, their bodies slammed to the ground by the sheer force of the attack.

Beside me, she gasped, her eyes wide as she saw what I'd done. "You… connected to the Veil like that?"

I staggered for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest. "Yeah. I guess I did."

She stared at me, her disbelief palpable. But there was no time to dwell on it. There were still cultists standing, though far fewer now. I stepped forward, raising my blade once more, ready to finish the fight.

But then I noticed something—one of the cultists wasn't fleeing. He stood there, watching us, his gaze cold and unblinking. I locked eyes with him, and a chill ran down my spine. This one was different. He wasn't just a follower. He was a leader, someone higher in their ranks.

Without hesitation, I lunged toward him, my blade aimed straight for his chest. He dodged with ease, moving faster than I'd expected. But I wasn't about to let him escape. I pressed forward, attacking again and again, forcing him to retreat.

Finally, with a swift motion, I disarmed him, my sword pressed against his throat. "You're coming with us," I growled, my voice low and threatening.

His lips curled into a dark smile. "You think you've won?"

I tightened my grip on my blade. "You're going to tell me everything."

But as I looked into his eyes, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. There was something far more dangerous lurking behind his smile—something that would soon make itself known.

...