Chapter 6 — The Crown’s Shadow

Damien Voss stood at the edge of the royal observatory, wind curling through the High Tower like whispered secrets. Below him, Voss Citadel pulsed with restless life—an empire built on ash and ambition. The throne may have been gilded, but Damien knew better than most: gold rusts just as blood stains.

He hadn’t slept in two nights.

The storm was coming.

“Report,” he said, not bothering to look over his shoulder.

Kael Draven stepped from the gloom. The King’s enforcer moved like shadow given form—loyal, merciless, and bound to Damien since the Fall of Thorne Valley.

“She burned your note. No hesitation,” Kael said.

A flicker of something unreadable passed across Damien’s face. “Good.”

Kael waited, but his king said nothing more.

“The Council is restless,” Kael added. “Alec suspects you’re grooming her.”

“Alec suspects everyone. It’s why he’s survived this long.”

“And if Aria Vale turns out to be a mistake?”

Damien finally turned, eyes like black glass catching the city lights. “Then I’ll turn her into a lesson.”

Midnight — North Wing….

Aria Vale moved through the corridor like a blade drawn from velvet. Every step was measured. Every glance calculated.

She had studied every inch of this cursed Tower. Entry points. Guard rotations. The way the floor dipped slightly near the bronze pillar that masked a hidden passage.

She knew power when she saw it.

But what intrigued her more than Damien’s iron grip on the Empire was the fracture she’d sensed underneath.

Something was broken.

The doors groaned open.

Damien stood in the center of a vast chamber, lit only by flickering sconces. The ceiling arched above them like a cathedral of old gods. Weapons lined the walls. Some ceremonial. Some still stained from use.

He didn’t greet her. He simply watched.

“You’re late,” he said.

“You didn’t say punctuality was part of the deal.”

He almost smiled. Almost.

“You’re here. That means you read between the lines.”

Aria stepped forward. “You left more than lines to read. You left a warning. Who’s watching me?”

“Everyone,” Damien said. “But more importantly—so am I.”

A silence stretched between them. Not hostile. Not warm. Just… charged.

“What do you want from me?” she asked.

“Loyalty.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then you’ll find the Tower has far less comfortable cells.”

She didn’t blink. “You need me. That’s why you’re playing at diplomacy. But I’ve read your records too, Voss. You don’t keep pieces you can’t control.”

His gaze flickered. "You think you understand me?”

“No,” she said. “But I understand empires. And I understand desperation.”

He circled her now, slow, like a wolf scenting challenge.

“You’re not wrong,” he said. “The Empire is splintering. But it won’t collapse under my reign. I will reshape it. With fire, if I must.”

“And me? Where do I fit in your bloody revolution?”

“You’re the wild card. The one thing Alec and the Council didn’t see coming. You’ve already survived the things they fear. And fear… is leverage.”

Aria’s eyes narrowed. “And if I leverage you back?”

That was when he smiled—cold and lethal. “Then it becomes a question of who blinks first.”

Elsewhere in the Citadel — Council Wing…

Alec Rowan studied the red seal broken on the parchment. The message was short.

She’s been marked.

“Who sent this?” he asked.

Cassian Thorn leaned against the doorframe. “Someone from beyond the border. The old factions are stirring.”

Alec’s jaw tightened. “If she’s marked, it means she’s connected to the Hollow Order.”

Cassian arched a brow. “You think Damien knows?”

“I think he knows too much. And he’s playing a dangerous game.”

Cassian walked in, tossing a silver coin between his fingers. “And if he wins?”

“Then we all lose.”

Later that Night — The Tower Cells…

Rhea Draeven moved silently past the guards. None dared question her presence. The King’s emissary had her own brand of authority—the kind that didn’t bleed. It poisoned.

She stopped outside a locked cell and turned the key herself.

Inside was Liora Vale.

Aria’s sister.

Alive.

Barely.

Liora stirred at the creak of the door, chains rattling against the stone.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Liora whispered.

“Neither are you,” Rhea replied.

Liora’s eyes were bloodshot, her skin pale. But her spirit hadn’t broken.

“She’ll come for me,” Liora said.

Rhea smiled. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

Back in the North Wing..

Damien poured two glasses of black liquor from a decanter carved with serpent sigils. He handed one to Aria.

“To the first move,” he said.

She raised her glass. “May it not be the last.”

But as they drank, a loud bang echoed from below.

Damien set the glass down immediately.

“What was that?”

Kael stormed into the room a moment later, blood on his blade.

“Assassins. Three. Breach from the East Wall.”

“Council send them?” Damien asked.

Kael shook his head. “Worse. No sigils. No trace. Just shadows.”

Damien looked at Aria.

Her eyes were already narrowed. “You said someone else was watching. I think they just made their move.”

Damien handed her a second blade.

“Then let’s see how well you survive the Tower when it’s burning.”

Below the Citadel…

A masked figure knelt before a map of Voss Citadel. Pins marked towers, tunnels, and two names.

Aria Vale. Damien Voss.

A skeletal hand hovered over Aria’s name.

“The blood debt begins again,” the figure rasped.

Behind them, twelve robed figures raised curved daggers, chanting in an ancient tongue.

The Hollow Order had awakened.

And the Empire would bleed for it.