The moon sat high over Valecar's castle, casting a silver glow across the banquet courtyard. From the outside, the summit shimmered like a dream. Inside, the warmth of golden lights and glittering chandeliers reflected off crimson velvet and polished obsidian. The music played gently, but the room itself buzzed with ancient tension masked behind toothy smiles.
A few hours into the gathering, Selphina—known in hushed corners as the Owl—stepped away from the crowd, her heels clicking against marble. She moved with grace, yet urgency, as though she were trying to outrun the weight pressing on her chest.
Before she could reach the outer corridor, a voice halted her.
"Leaving so soon?"
Selphina turned, brushing silver strands behind her ear. Valecar stood calmly, wine in hand, his sharp gaze unreadable.
"Lord Valecar," she greeted softly, bowing her head. "Of course not. Just stepping out for air."
"Is the party not to your liking?" he asked, his tone light, yet curious.
She smiled politely. "The party is glorious. It's the political atmosphere that's… suffocating."
Valecar chuckled. "Ah, yes. The nobility are louder with words than with action, sometimes."
He stepped beside her, raising his gaze to the moon above. "But the night… it has its own kind of beauty, doesn't it?"
Selphina followed his gaze. "It is beautiful," she admitted, her voice quieter now.
A silence followed. Not cold, but strained.
"Well," she said suddenly, "I shouldn't be rude. Thank you again for the invitation."
Valecar inclined his head. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Lady Selphina."
Without another word, she vanished into the halls.
The city of Zen was restless. Whispers of Lord Halric Marev's death had begun to spread like wildfire through alleys and backrooms.
In the bandit hideout, Richard sat alone with a folded newspaper in hand. The headline read:
"City Lord Found Dead – Investigation Underway."
The leader of the bandits approached hesitantly, fidgeting.
"Boss… forgive me if I'm out of line," he said. "But you weren't… involved in that, were you?"
Richard slowly lowered the paper and turned his eyes on him. The stare was calm—but sharp enough to freeze the man in place.
"No," Richard said.
The leader exhaled in relief. "Right. Of course. Just had to ask…"
The conversation ended there.
Later that night, Richard returned to the Swordfinn Inn. He had a quiet meal, ignored the noise in the tavern, then headed to his room.
Lying down on the bed, eyes closed, he murmured, "Took your sweet time."
A shape appeared by the window. Selphina.
She hesitated before stepping through. "I would've run if I could…"
"What was that?" he asked, his eyes still closed.
"Nothing," she muttered, stepping inside fully.
The room returned to silence.
Outside the Ruined City – Days Later
In the reclaimed fortress, Thierry stood atop the wooden palisade, arms crossed, overlooking the improvements since his return. The barricades were sturdier, buildings were standing, and soldiers patrolled routinely.
A guard approached and saluted.
"Captain Thierry," one said. "Good to have you back, sir."
"Good work," Thierry replied. "This place… it's coming along."
He continued along until reaching the command tent.
Inside, Elise stood by a makeshift table littered with maps and reports. She turned to him as he entered.
"Thierry," she said. "New problem."
"What's the situation?" he asked.
She pointed to a map, tapping a section near the river.
"A new disappearance happened. We found strange claw marks at the last site. Huge, wild… not vampire, and not beast either."
Thierry frowned. "Show me."
She unrolled a parchment sketch of one of the marks. It was jagged and long—something not made by any known weapon or animal.
"I want to go with you. I need to see this up close."
He looked at her. "No."
"But—"
"That's an order, Elise."
She paused, clearly stung. "Yes, sir."
He gave a small nod and left.
The Next Morning – River Outskirts
Thierry and four revolutionaries arrived at the site where the last clue was found. The trees were tall, the mist low. The river nearby murmured with a chilling calm.
"We spread out," Thierry said. "Circle back here in ten minutes. If anything seems off, regroup immediately."
The men nodded and split up.
Ten minutes passed.
Three of them returned, empty-handed.
Thierry looked around. "Where's Ferrin?"
Just then, a scream tore through the woods. They ran toward the sound, weapons drawn.
What they found… was carnage.
An arm. A half-smashed tree. A blood trail.
And the creature.
It hunched over Ferrin's mangled body, tearing into him with gnarled claws and unnatural limbs. Fanged. Pale. Eyes glowing like coals in the dark.
It turned slowly toward them—dripping, snarling, monstrous.
Thierry's eyes widened.
"Dear God," Jace whispered.
The monster lunged.
End of Chapter 19