Previous day, the night the assassins were defeated
The Vice Archon stood still at the center of the crimson-tinted chamber, surrounded by a swirling storm of silence. Candles flickered atop ancient iron sconces affixed to the stone walls, their dim flames dancing as though wary of the power in the room. His eyes, sharp as twin blades honed over decades of darkness, watched the far end of the chamber.
One hour had passed.
Still, nothing.
His voice sliced through the air, laced with irritation and cold expectation.
"Why are they not here yet?"
A lone figure knelt near the steps leading to the elevated platform, head bowed deeply, forehead nearly touching the cold obsidian tiles.
"I'm sorry, Vice Archon. We haven't… we haven't been able to reach any of them."
The words were spoken with trembling breath, soaked in fear.
The Vice Archon's gaze narrowed.
"Why?"
"We don't kno—"
The figure never got to finish. A second later, a chill pulsed through the room like a tremor of unseen power. The very walls seemed to shudder as if reality itself bent for their arrival. And then—six figures materialized from the shadows in a flash, without sound, as though they hadn't walked in but simply existed into being.
They appeared not from doors, not from portals, but from void.
Each wore a long, form-fitting black cloak that cascaded down their bodies like flowing liquid darkness. But unlike the standard assassin garb, their robes bore a distinct elegance—a woven lattice of shadow threads laced with glimmers of silver, like constellations embedded in a night sky. The fabric rippled as they moved, but no sound came from them, not even the faintest whisper of fabric brushing fabric.
They were wrapped head to toe. Their faces hidden beneath angular hoods crafted with a downward taper that cast their features into utter obscurity. Only a dull violet glow flickered beneath the folds where their eyes might be—voidlike and hollow, as though their very gaze could swallow light.
This was the Eye of Silence.
A whisper in the dark that few ever lived to confirm.
They bowed as one, synchronized in eerie perfection.
"You sent for us." One of them spoke in a voice like mist—soft, reverberating, and oddly fragmented as though multiple echoes laced their words.
The Vice Archon's voice came like thunder.
"What took you so long?"
Another cloaked figure stepped forward. His tone calm, reverent.
"We're sorry. We just received the word."
The Vice Archon stepped down slowly, his dark boots clicking faintly against the cold tiles. His robes flared behind him like wings of obsidian fire.
"Have you ever heard of a group called the Assassin Slayers?"
The room froze. The question hung like a guillotine. The six figures tilted their heads slightly, processing. The silence grew heavier.
Finally, one replied.
"No. We have not."
Another added,
"This name is unfamiliar to the Eye."
The Vice Archon's lips curved into a slight grimace.
"I want you to know about them. Find out everything you can. I believe they're just getting started."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"And before they grow into something that threatens the Order, we'll crush them."
The six nodded in unison.
"Understood."
"Inform the other branches of the Eye of Silence. I want full surveillance. I want whispers, records, sightings, everything. Now go."
Without another word, the figures vanished as quickly as they came, disintegrating into strands of shadow that peeled away from reality. The room fell into silence once more.
The Vice Archon turned to the kneeling assassin still frozen in fear.
"Send out twenty assassins by tomorrow night. I want the four targets captured. Not dead. Alive."
They can torture them all they want, but they must bring them alive."
The order was sharp. Unrelenting.
"I want them breathing long enough to confess everything they know about this group. Then we'll silence them all."
He walked slowly toward the massive window overlooking the mountain pass. The moonlight barely filtered through the thick storm clouds outside.
"Let them enjoy tonight. It'll be their last."
The Vice Archon stood in the dim glow, shadows wrapping around him like a second skin, watching a world that would soon bleed.
Tomorrow night they bleed.