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Ch. 45: Threads in the Dust
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2025-11-16 13:00:00They left Verryn’s Gate at first light. The rain had cleared but left the world slick and cold, the kind of chill that crept into armor and stayed there. Market stalls were only just opening; merchants swept water from their awnings, pretending not to watch the two riders heading east.
Kaelira could feel the weight of eyes even when she didn’t see them. Some glances carried gratitude, others suspicion. More than once she caught the shimmer of steel half-hidden in a doorway. No arrows loosed, no words spoken—just silent acknowledgment that she was dangerous and that everyone here knew it.Zevran rode close, cloak drawn tight. “You feel that too?”“The watching? Yes.”“Thought so.” He didn’t look around. “Frontier cities never keep secrets long. Someone’s already written our names on a report.”“To whom?”“Whichever noble wants to prove they can leash you before Eidryn does.”Kaelira sighed. “Then we ride faster.”The road east unfurled through low hill
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Blood of the Black Moon Ch. 50: The Gathering
Dawn had not yet broken over Eidryn. The city still lay wrapped in rain and slate-colored mist, its towers rising like black teeth through the fog. Only one building burned with light—the High Council Hall, a cathedral of glass and white stone perched above the river. Within it, silence reigned so absolute it seemed the air itself bowed to it.Lord Meroth stood before the vast window that overlooked the sleeping capital. His reflection stared back—tall, composed, features carved into diplomacy. Behind him, the chamber filled slowly: boots on marble, the muted clatter of signet rings on wood, robes brushing like whispers. Twelve chairs circled the obsidian table, and one by one the city’s rulers took their places.The bells had not yet tolled the hour. That was the point. Important decisions were always made before the world was awake enough to object.When the last chair scraped into place, Meroth turned. “We begin.”A ripple of acknowledgment passed through the room
Blood of the Black Moon Ch. 49: Below the Sun
The tunnel narrowed until they had to walk single file. The air grew warmer the deeper they went, damp and heavy with the smell of stone that had forgotten wind. Every step echoed back as if the walls were learning the rhythm of their hearts.After what felt like hours, the passage widened. Faint blue light shimmered ahead—pale as moonlight but steadier, pulsing in long, slow waves. Kaelira raised a hand, the Mark on her wrist answering with a faint glow of its own.“Still with me?” she murmured.Zevran’s voice drifted up from behind her, low and dry. “Just enjoying the ambiance. Always wanted to vacation inside a dead god’s basement.”“Careful,” she said. “It listens.”“Good. Maybe it’ll rate my sarcasm.”She smiled despite herself and pushed forward.The tunnel opened into a cavern so vast her lamp barely touched the far walls. Bridges of petrified wood crossed pools that reflected the ceiling’s light in mirrored fragments. The air shimmered with faint
Blood of the Black Moon Ch. 48: The Cradle
The sound of the outer gate dying away left a silence too complete. Kaelira could hear her own heartbeat, and—beneath it—something deeper, slower, patient. The air pressed close, thick with dust and age. Zevran lifted the lamp from his belt; the blue-white flame trembled, throwing their shadows against a wall of carved stone.They stood at the mouth of a descending stair that curved like a throat into darkness. The walls shimmered faintly where quartz veins caught the light, making the descent seem alive.“Lovely,” Zevran muttered. “If tombs are your taste.”“It isn’t a tomb,” Kaelira said quietly. “It’s a heart.”She brushed her fingers over the nearest carving. Lines of script wound across the stone in spirals—neither council nor cult work. Older. The letters pulsed once beneath her touch before settling into a soft glow that lit the first few steps.Zevran eyed the glow warily. “Do all ancient runes flirt back?”“They respond to bloodlines.”“Good thin
Blood of the Black Moon Ch. 47: The Night of Keys
Rain hammered the Ministry roof until the walls hummed with it. The single lamp left burning threw long, distorted shadows across the maps of light that covered the table. Every so often a bolt of lightning flashed beyond the sealed window, bleaching the room white for a heartbeat before surrendering it again to gold and gray.Kaelira hadn’t moved since the councilors left. She stood before the glass maps, arms folded, eyes unfocused. The Mark glowed faintly through her glove—steady now, like it was waiting for something.Zevran watched from the corner. He’d stripped the leather from his gauntlets and was turning his dagger between his fingers, letting the edge catch the lamplight. His expression carried that particular calm he wore when his mind was moving faster than his blade ever could.“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.Kaelira’s reflection stared back at her from the glass. “That Meroth doesn’t want a weapon. He wants a key.”Zevran frowned. “To what?
Blood of the Black Moon Ch. 46: The Capitol
The rain hadn’t stopped when dawn bled over the hills. It fell in a steady whisper that blurred the line between earth and sky, coating armor and cloaks with a dull sheen. The camp came awake without words; riders stamping out the coals, harnesses buckled, horses snorting steam into the cold. Every movement sounded smaller beneath the drizzle, as if the world itself were trying not to be heard.Kaelira mounted first. The Mark on her wrist throbbed once, faint but insistent, like a pulse answering another far away. She ignored it. Not now. She’d spent the whole night ignoring it.Zevran swung into his saddle beside her, shaking water from his hair. “Morning,” he said, tone too bright for the gray around them.“Barely.”“Good. I hate cheerful ones.”Captain Senn gave a curt signal, and the column started east. Ten riders, two strangers, one invisible leash. The road wound through drowned forest, then rose into the first low ridges of Eidryn’s borderlands. Every mil
Blood of the Black Moon Ch. 45: Threads in the Dust
They left Verryn’s Gate at first light. The rain had cleared but left the world slick and cold, the kind of chill that crept into armor and stayed there. Market stalls were only just opening; merchants swept water from their awnings, pretending not to watch the two riders heading east.Kaelira could feel the weight of eyes even when she didn’t see them. Some glances carried gratitude, others suspicion. More than once she caught the shimmer of steel half-hidden in a doorway. No arrows loosed, no words spoken—just silent acknowledgment that she was dangerous and that everyone here knew it.Zevran rode close, cloak drawn tight. “You feel that too?”“The watching? Yes.”“Thought so.” He didn’t look around. “Frontier cities never keep secrets long. Someone’s already written our names on a report.”“To whom?”“Whichever noble wants to prove they can leash you before Eidryn does.”Kaelira sighed. “Then we ride faster.”The road east unfurled through low hill
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