Chapter 17: The Blood Mage's Envoy

By nightfall, Nikolai and I had returned to the Crescent Citadel, leaving Captain Torin and a squad of southern veterans to guard Frostfall and disrupt the siphon runes with salt and silver iron.

The heavy stone doors of the high council chamber were shut against the howling mountain wind. Inside, three regional elders and two guard captains sat around the long oak table, their faces pale as Nikolai described the inverted crescent runes carved into the village stones.

"Blood-weaving?" Elder Vance gasped, his frail hands trembling as he set down his quill. "My Queen, those dark orders were banished to the obsidian trenches before the founding of the Northern Coalition. If the Crimson Cult has returned—"

"They haven't just returned," I interrupted, standing at the head of the table with my hand resting on the pommel of the Sovereign's Edge. "They are actively harvesting the life force of our people to fuel a ritual."

Before Vance could reply, the heavy iron torches lining the stone walls flickered wildly. The warm orange flames turned a sickly, bruised violet before extinguishing completely, plunging the high chamber into shadow.

"Guard the doors!" Nikolai shouted, his voice echoing through the gloom as his twin daggers cleared their sheaths with a sharp hiss. His golden Southern aura erupted, casting a harsh, radiant light across the room.

The air in the chamber grew instantly frigid. Frost bloomed across the glass windows, and a thick, metallic stench of iron and blood filled the room.

From the center of the shadows near the balcony doors, a liquid pool of crimson mist pooled on the floorboards. It rose, twisting into the slender, cloaked silhouette of a figure holding a curved obsidian blade. The intruder had no scent, no heartbeat—a shade constructed entirely of dark magic and blood.

"Queen Elora..." a rasping, dual-toned voice echoed from beneath the shade's cowl. "The vessel of the First Kings."

With blinding, unnatural speed, the shadow blur passed right through two armored guards, dropping them to their knees as it drained their breath. It didn't target me first—it lunged straight for Nikolai, seeking to sever my greatest shield.

"Nikolai!" I cried out.

Nikolai parried the shadow's curved blade, sparks of golden light and black smoke exploding at the impact. The force of the strike drove Nikolai back two paces, the sheer dark pressure threatening to corrode his steel weapons.

I blurred forward, channeling the full power of my royal mark. The crimson crescent on my shoulder burst into a blinding, celestial light.

I drew the Sovereign's Edge. The star-iron steel ignited in brilliant violet fire, cutting through the shadow's dark veil like a scythe through dry grass. I spun inside the assassin's guard, driving the glowing tip of my blade through the shade's sternum and pinning it against the heavy oak table.

The assassin shrieked—a sound like tearing metal—as the holy star-iron burned away its crimson magic. The dark mist dissolved, revealing a flesh-and-blood cultist beneath: a pale man with black-veined skin and eyes turned entirely crimson.

Nikolai stepped up beside me, pressing the tip of his dagger against the cultist's throat to prevent him from breaking the bond.

"Who sent you?" I demanded, my voice echoing with pure royal authority as the Sovereign's Edge hummed against his chest.

The cultist coughed, black blood trickling down his chin, but a fanatic, terrifying smile stretched across his gray lips.

"The moon turns red in two nights, little Queen," the cultist rasped, his crimson eyes gleaming with madness. "High Priestess Vespera calls for the royal blood... The Abyssal Well will open, and your realm will drown in shadow."

With a final, violent convulsion, the cultist's body dissolved into a pile of ash, leaving only his obsidian blade clattering against the cold stone floor.

Nikolai looked down at the dark blade, his golden eyes filled with grim resolve as he met my gaze. "High Priestess Vespera... the legend is true."

"She wants my blood for the eclipse," I said, looking out the frost-covered window toward Mount Voros. "And in two nights, we are going to give her a fight instead."