The marble floor of Valeyra's chamber echoed faintly as Herrick stepped inside, boots dusted with dried blood, his arm still bandaged from the battle. The heavy doors closed behind him with a muted thud. The air inside was warm and scented with lavender and something sharper—like metal and fire.
Valeyra Kira, clad in flowing crimson silks, lounged behind a curved desk of obsidian wood, a single glass of dark wine swirling between her fingers. Her eyes locked onto Herrick's, bright and expectant.
"You came faster than expected," she purred.
Herrick bowed slightly. "I didn't waste time. The mission's done."
She tilted her head. "And the treasure?"
Wordlessly, Herrick reached into his coat and pulled out a worn, leather-bound scroll. The seal was cracked, the edges faintly singed. He placed it on the desk.
Valeyra's fingers stopped swirling her glass.
She unfurled it slowly, eyes scanning the coded glyphs and ancient Elvish runes, until she reached the bottom, where three words shimmered in faded silver ink:
The Road to Elysia.
Her lips parted ever so slightly. "So it's true..."
"The bandits had no idea what they were guarding," Herrick said, voice even. "But someone did. That map wasn't buried by accident. The leader died clutching it."
Valeyra's eyes remained on the scroll, but her tone turned colder.
"Who else saw it?"
Herrick hesitated.
"I asked you a question," she said.
He exhaled slowly. "The entire squad, more or less. They saw me pull it from the body. A few read the title."
Her gaze sharpened. "And what about him?"
Herrick nodded. "He saw it too. He touched it first, actually."
A beat of silence passed.
Then Valeyra snapped the scroll shut with a sharp crack and stood.
"Then this cannot spread," she said simply, walking around the desk. "Too many families are already watching the Kira branch. If word gets out that the map to the Elven paradise has returned... the vultures will come."
She stepped close to Herrick, her perfume intoxicating. Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Kill them. All of them. I want no tongues wagging. No survivors. Except him."
Herrick's brows furrowed. "They were loyal. They bled for this house—"
"I don't care if they bathed in dragon fire for us." Her voice snapped, now sharp enough to cut steel. "Loyalty is worthless once fear takes over. Do it quietly. I'll arrange for you to be seen mourning them afterward if it soothes your conscience."
Herrick's jaw tightened. But he said nothing more.
Valeyra turned to a nearby servant standing by the door.
"Go," she ordered, her tone softened now into something almost playful. "Bring him to me. I wish to... reward him."
The servant bowed low and slipped out silently.
As the door closed behind him, Valeyra looked back at the map, fingers gliding along the edges like a lover's touch.
"To think… it actually exists," she murmured. "And the boy—" she smiled, sharp and full of delight "—he just might be the key."
Herrick stood still, his hand twitching at the thought of what he had to do.
But orders were orders.
And in House Kira, survival came at the cost of conscience.
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
The stained-glass windows of the Magic parliament painted shards of light across the polished floor of Damnatio Kira's private chamber. Behind his grand desk of dark oak, Damnatio stood with his hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed on the parchment-strewn table. Reports, maps, coded letters—nothing ever brought peace. Only more questions.
A gust of cold air swept through the chamber as a figure stepped from the shadows. Hooded, silent, and cloaked in enchanted black, the spy kneeled low.
"My Lord."
Damnatio didn't look at him. "Speak."
"The Kira squad returned from their mission late last night. No public announcement. No ceremony. Just a quiet return to their sector. They were seen entering the castle."
Damnatio raised a brow. "And the boy?"
"He returned alive, as predicted. But that's not the news."
The spy hesitated.
Damnatio finally turned to face him, his expression unreadable. "Go on."
"The squad... they're gone."
A cold silence filled the room.
"Gone?"
The spy nodded. "Three reported dead in their sleep. One jumped from the barracks tower. Another found in the river. Two are simply missing."
Damnatio's fingers twitched. He walked slowly to the high-backed chair and sat, steepling his fingers.
"All within less than a day of return?"
"Yes, my lord."
His jaw tightened.
"Valeyra," he muttered under his breath. "She moved faster than expected."
He stood abruptly, the chair screeching behind him. "Prepare a carriage. I'm going to the Kira estate."
The spy nodded and vanished in a flutter of shadows.
—
Damnatio arrived at the military wing of the Kira estate with a pair of Judgement officers. The halls smelled faintly of candle wax and iron. Each room he entered brought the same result.
Beds unmade.
Gear missing.
No bodies. No witnesses.
Only silence.
"What of this one?" Damnatio asked as he stepped into the final chamber.
A Judgement soldier saluted. "This was the vice-captain's room. We found bloodstains, but the body's missing. His lover fled the capital this morning—her carriage intercepted and burned on the outskirts."
Damnatio looked around with narrowed eyes. "And no one saw anything?"
The soldier shook his head.
Damnatio turned to the window, jaw clenched, his calm composure cracking just slightly.
"So they're all dead or gone," he said bitterly. "Someone made sure the truth died with them."
He stared out toward the tower where Valeyra's banner fluttered proudly.
"Send word to the archive. I want a full list of those who were assigned to that mission. If I can't have the truth from them…" His eyes darkened. "Then I'll take it from the boy himself."
He turned on his heel, cloak sweeping behind him.
"But this time," he added coldly, "he won't be protected by the shadows of his cursed house."
I was't aware that I got all the eyes on me before even turning 7...