The ink hissed faintly as the nib dragged across the parchment. Soft scratching rose and fell with each stroke, accompanied by the distant rustle of pages. Each word carved into the surface carried a quiet intensity, as if the person holding the pen was racing against time. A stillness had taken hold of the room, all except for the man seated at his desk. His shadow quivered across the pages as the candlelight shone behind him.

Outside the oak doors, hurried footsteps broke the silence. The man looked up. At first, the steps were faint, growing louder and sharper by the second. He reached for his iron staff propped against his desk, curling his aged fingers around the shaft. Footsteps at this hour rarely meant anything good, and after his recent encounter with the Order's watchmen, he didn't want to take any risks.

The door burst open without a knock, slamming into the wall.

"Elder—!" The mage fell to his knees while stumbling inside. His face was pale, sweat dripping from his temples. He took a deep breath as his chest heaved in and out while waiting for permission to speak.

That was when Elder Pyron lowered the pen in his hand, dripping the ink across his half-written sentence. His empty eyes shifted from the blot to the fallen mage once more, a shred of amusement flickering at the sight of the trembling young man in the doorway.

"Speak," he said in a low voice.

The mage swallowed hard, refusing to raise his head. "It's the caverns in the distillery district… someone's entered the ritual area."

"Who was it?"

"That's…" The man nervously knelt there. "We don't know…"

"Ha…" Pyron couldn't help but laugh as the corners of his lips curled up in frustration. "What good are you if you can't even deliver news properly?"

"My apologies! It's just that we've been having a hard time since the watchmen last raided us."

Pyron clicked his tongue while leaning back in his leather chair. He rubbed his chin, falling deep into thought. "Could it be them?"

"We—we don't think so. There's no reason for them to go to the other side of the city," he said. "The other mages have tracked the watchmen's spirit essence towards the noble district. Right now we have a group of knights hunting them down as we speak."

"Right now… you say…?" Pyron quietly chuckled, shaking his head in disappointment. He gritted his teeth and slammed his fist onto the surface of the desk with a loud thump. "Do you have any idea how close they were to ruining our plans!? Does your mind even fathom what is at stake here, you imbecile! Those… those fucking watchmen nearly took my life, nearly uncovered our secrets, and after days you still have brought no results…"

"But, sir… we secured the fragment that Elder Pyron retrieved… I'm sure they aren't even aware of its existence."

Pyron glared at the trembling mage. "You poor fool… You really know nothing, do you? Those watchmen… those vermin are far more capable than you give them credit for. There can be no room for error. None whatsoever." His voice was seething. "You are to bring a squad of mages to the caverns and find whatever is lurking down there and kill it. I don't care if it's some mutt or rat or even a child. I want it dead by sunrise. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Elder Pyron. I'll gather a squad of mages and head to the caverns as soon as possible."

"Good, now fuck off."

Pyron watched as the man quickly stood up from where he was kneeling and ran off while closing the door behind him. He glanced at his hand, watching his fingers twitch. The sense of discomfort was still very vivid; something was wrong, and he couldn't quite make sense of it. There was no reason to doubt what the mage had said. Their tracking spells for watchmen had grown far more sophisticated in recent years, and with their recent hunt on the rangers, it had proven to be effective.

So why?

Why did the case with the caverns bother him so much?

Was it because that was where the fragment of Stygian resided?

He clicked his tongue in annoyance once more. The recent turn of events had thrown a wedge in their plans. They never expected the Everheart Kingdom to go on the offensive after losing two of their bastions. Much less come to Alexandria which was by the sea. The perfect location to acquire fresh ingredients. And given the circumstances, he couldn't freely move with the various Knight Orders stationed here. There were too many eyes on the Emerald Tower, and if he took action now, then that was practically screaming at the other factions that something was wrong. His hands were tied, and there was nothing he could do.

"How vexing…" Pyron muttered, his voice fading into the night.

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The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Tucker stared at the chains dangling above their heads. It felt like a dagger had been twisted in his heart. How could someone do this? Did they have no remorse for their own people? He clenched his fists, the leather gloves molding into the shape of his grip. The fabric stretched over each knuckle, wrinkling and folding along the seams as a faint crack of joints followed, only to be swallowed by the black hide.

Blood dripped onto the cold stone floor with a soft thud. Yet the constant sound that entered his ears fueled him with anger and spite. He had no reason to be upset. No reason to be mad for the people who had died here. After all, they were at war. The victims weren't from the Everheart Kingdom. They were citizens of the Empire. So why was he so conflicted? No, the reason he was upset was simple.

Even if they were at war, Tucker couldn't turn away from the injustice that was before him. He had thought he had seen everything. But day after day, the vile nature of those they were fighting crept out from the shadows like a plague that refused to disappear. There was nothing more evil than turning away from what he was facing.

Ray wiped the bile from his lips before shaking his head. "Fuck!" He glared at Tucker and Alex. "These—these fucking monsters! We need to take them down, every last one of them!"

"Easier said than done, lad," Alex said. "There's a lot more at stake here than just vengeance."

"So what? Are you saying that we just turn a blind eye to this?!"

"That's not what he's saying," Tucker said. "Right now, we need to breach the city's defenses for our forces to take root. After we do that, we can come back here to figure out what these bastards were up to."

Alex nodded. "I understand your frustration, but our priority is completing the mission."

Ray gritted his teeth while holding his head down. His companion, Rover, let out a small whimper by his side. "Right… sorry about that, guys."

Tucker walked towards the center of the chamber, gazing at the corpses dangling in the air. Their mangled bodies, torn limb from limb, were still fresh with vivid streaks of crimson trailing down their fingertips. The ones that had been there the longest had shriveled up with skin barely clinging onto the muscles and bones of the body. Yet the most bizarre occurrence was that none of the bodies were in an active stage of decay.

"There has to be something here, something that the Empire has hidden," Tucker said, scanning the terrain. He knelt down on one knee, brushing the dirt off the stone tiles in the center of the chamber. Then, with a simple click, the sound of gears shifting entered their ears.

"Seems like you found it." Alex stood beside him, watching as the tiles split open, revealing another dark passage.

Tucker took out his silver pocket watch and flipped it open before closing it. "We should have a decent amount of time. If we're looking for secrets, they'll be down there."

"Could there be defenses or traps?" Ray asked.

"Only one way to find out," Alex replied.

Ray gave a firm nod, taking the first step into the passage with Tucker and Alex close behind him. There was no telling what horrors awaited them down below, but as Tucker stepped into the passage, he felt a tingle on the back of his neck. He looked back towards the iron chains hanging from the ceiling as the soft clanks entered his ears. For a moment, it seemed as if one of the bodies twitched. Yet, he couldn't tell with the soft breeze drifting through the area.

"Did you notice something?" Alex asked.

"…No, I don't think so…" Tucker said. "Let's be quick."

Together, they quickly moved down the newly discovered passage in darkness. Not a shred of light existed except for the embers emitting from Rover. Tucker held onto his spirit essence, slowly unweaving it throughout the area from his heart. During his time in the bastion, he realized the importance of maintaining the amount of essence within his body. And after his conversation with Benjamin, he found a new discovery, leading to the second thing he learned about spirits.

Spirit essence doesn't disappear.

This meant that, in theory, it was possible to exceed the amount of essence contained within their hearts. So during his time off, he consistently refined the energy within his body and devised a new way to store the excess force around his heart without siphoning off Gale.

His answer came in the form of rings. Constantly cycling the essence through his heart again and again while forcing it outwards into external bands until they were filled to the brim with energy. But even with this breakthrough, the risks were still far too immense. There were too many unknown factors and a lack of knowledge with this procedure. Just like when he borrowed flame essence from Sally and experienced the backlash that nearly ruptured his heart. If he tried to do something like that again, it would surely kill him as his reserves were far greater than before.

Perhaps the watchmen of the past had discovered this method, but the knowledge was lost after the devastating losses inflicted upon the Order. Out of hundreds, only eight or so members remained from the previous war. It was a miracle that the Order recovered to its current state, and the loss of techniques was to be expected.

For now, Tucker only managed to create a single ring. But even one was enough to open a new frontier for spirit contractors. He simply needed to learn how to harness additional essences without destroying himself in the process.

Once the three reached the bottom of the steps, the atmosphere shifted. The cold air had vanished, and the putrid smell that clung to their nostrils had peeled away. It was as if the very room they entered was welcoming them into its embrace.

Before them was a long emerald carpet that stretched from where they stood to a lone stone table bathed in a shaft of pale light. Rows of towering bookshelves rose alongside the path leading to it, and from the corner of their eyes, countless dissected bodies remained in place. Each one hung like an ornament on a tree, reminding them of the horrors committed in the room.

The men steeled their resolve with their weapons in hand. Tucker sheathed his dagger before freeing the lumenite blade from its black and green scabbard. Aura enveloped their bodies as they drew closer to the stone table, scanning each section of the bookshelves for any hidden foes. Their footsteps were light, hardly making a sound on the soft fabric. Even the faint azure glow from their runes that once pulsed with life had dimmed, hiding their bodies in darkness.

But when they reached the halfway point of the carpet, a light thud and subtle scratch entered their ears. The watchmen immediately stood at attention, back to back as they frantically searched for where the noise came from. And then, a playful yet eerie tone seeped through the air.

A tone so faint it almost blended with the silence, yet sharp enough to prickle their nerves. Each breath they took matched the uneven beats, as if they were puppets with their strings softly plucked by an unseen hand. The coldness that held their bodies was unlike anything they had ever encountered. It came not from the room, but from their souls. Their auras fought back, quivering with every hum that recoiled through the air.

And once the melody had finally ended, their breath tightened in an instant. Their instincts turned into a silent whisper, warning that something was here.

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