Gabriel enters the grand hall, and the first thing he sees is a long table that stretches across the room with numerous people sitting around it. Crowsongs and Stygian’s alike.

  The room buzzes with anticipation, as Gabriel’s family and the visiting Stygian’s mingle in fervent conversation. From an outside appearance this was the union of two groups learning more about each other's traditions. Growing closer, and bonding over a shared holiday, the Solstice of Souls.

  Although this could not be further from the truth. Gabriel had grown up hearing stories from Ethel about the two groups' relations throughout the years. Ethel still remembers when the two would slaughter each other in droves and were in a constant state of war. Although this was his first time meeting them, Gabriel knew well that the Stygian’s were here to scout out the Crowsongs strength. That’s what they do. They don’t play fair, and don’t have a shred of honor to them.

  A handful of Stygian’s approach Gabriel, their eyes wide with curiosity. "You're the newest member of the Dread Requiem, aren't you?" one asks, her voice quivering with excitement. "Tell us how one as young as yourself was able to reach such heights. Our records say that it’s an incredibly difficult feat. You must have exceptional control over magic!"

  "Oh please, Margaret, this young gentleman is built like a brick wall! He probably just punched his way there!" An older Stygian shouts as he comes up behind Gabriel, slapping him on the back. Although Gabriel does not budge.

  "Oh? He’s sturdy too, probably a geomancer if I had to guess!"

  "Magic is a sensitive topic for me," Gabriel says, giving a small wave of his hand.

  "Oh come on sweetie! You know, I have a grandson your age, and he’s an aeromancer just like his old nana!" As she says this, she holds a finger up to show a small gust of wind just at the tip.

  "That’s right, and I’m a pyromancer!" The older Stygian says as he holds his own finger out, a small flame appearing at the end of it. "No need to be shy, we already know that you use Necromancy since you’re a Crowsong! There must be another magic though, everyone's got a couple that they’re good at!"

  "I apologize, I don’t think I made myself clear. I will not be commenting on the topic further. Although I will tell you about how I became a member of the Dread Requiem." Before the two are able to argue, Gabriel begins to speak again.

  "I fought a fierce Shadowweaver in the Phantasmal Depths. The creature was cunning and deadly, but I managed to outwit it."

  As he speaks, he draws a short sword from its sheath. The Stygian’s gasp in awe, as though the blade itself was a testament to his prowess. "This is the very weapon I used to bring down the monster," he says, holding it out for them to see.

  "Breaching the Phantasmal Depths and returning alive...truly remarkable," Margaret murmur’s, her eyes alight with admiration. "Is it a magic blade? We’ve heard tales of your clan acquiring weapons blessed by Lord Death on rare occasions. Being the highest ranking member, certainly you’d be in possession of such a weapon, yes?"

  "I think you’re mistaken, this is an ordinary blade, and I am not the highest ranking member in my clan. There is one other whose prowess on the battlefield far surpasses mine," Gabriel lies, or at least it was a partial lie. There was one man that was a higher rank than he was, but no one has seen him for the better part of a decade. There was no definitive proof the man in question was even alive, but pretending the clan was stronger than it really was couldn’t hurt.

  "Oh! That’s the Abyssal Requiem, right? We had no idea you had someone so powerful in your clan. That is interesting, he must be quite amazing if he’s stronger than even you."

  "I would very much like to meet this man," another says, "Still, the fact that a single person managed to breach the Phantasmal Depths on their own and live to tell the tale... it is nothing short of extraordinary in this day and age."

  Gabriel nods along, acknowledging their praise. But deep down, he feels a growing unease gnawing away at him. He’s well aware that these people don’t actually care about him, or his achievements.

  Just then, someone shoulder checks Gabriel from behind, and yanks his shortsword out of its sheath. He was well aware of who it was, but he couldn’t believe she’d pull such a prank at a time like this.

  "Cleared the Phantasmal Depths with this thing, did ya? Does that mean I can do that too if I just have this with me?"

  She’s only a little shorter than Gabriel, but just as big. In a way, the two are rivals of sorts. Although Gabriel had never lost in a fight against her. Her outfit is just like the mens. No matter how many times she was told, she refused to put on the female attire, claiming ‘it puts me at a tactical disadvantage.’ It was Ethel that agreed to her wearing whatever she wanted for the Solstice of Souls.

  Her hair is a messy, black bob, and her sleeves are rolled up, revealing many self-inflicted tattoos with seemingly random patterns. Each is surrounded by a different type of burn, also self-inflicted in order to hone her craft. Wrapped around her body is a makeshift sash of small, bottled ‘potions’. Potions is the only accurate description, because nobody actually knows what they do other than her. Each has a different effect, and can only be handled by none other than Miriam Crowsong.

  "A sword is worthless if the wielder isn’t worthy."

  "Everything alright, Gabe?" A familiar, high pitched voice rings out from behind Gabriel. "Are you two fighting again?!"

  "Ain’t no one fighting! Mind your business, you little shit. And I’m keeping this!" Miriam grunts, tucking the blade into her waistband before walking off.

  "Forgive me," Gabriel replies, forcing a smile to his lips as he turns his back on the Stygian’s, and looks to the young man before him now.

  The boy's outfit mirrors Gabriel's, although it isn’t anywhere near as big. He has dark brown eyes, with long, dark curly hair and a big, cheery smile. His cousin, Jameson.

  "The memories of battle can be... difficult to think back on," Gabriel lies, and Jameson swings an arm around the larger man, pulling him into a side hug.

  "Oh! Of course," Margaret nods sympathetically, "we can only imagine the horrors you've faced in the depths. We’re sorry if we’ve pried too much."

  A bell rings, its resonant chime echoing through the grand hall. It draws the attention of all,

  "Gather around everyone, take your seats. The Solstice of Souls draws near!" Gabriel’s father, Victor, calls out from the head of the table.

  The atmosphere in the room shifts from that of a casual gathering to a much more serious meeting. The crowd moves toward the table, and Gabriel takes his seat on the Crowsongs' side of the table. Next to him is a tall man that’s close to him in age. Slender features, with rimless, rounded glasses around his eyes. His hair falls just short of being a side part thanks to how low his hair hangs over his forehead. A long strip of white hair can be seen among the black, and behind his glasses are an unamused pair of blue eyes.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Gabriel’s cousin, Nathaniel, and sitting beyond Nathaniel is our cousin Jameson.

  "What a busy night," Nathaniel remarks, surveying the assembly of people present. "The house hasn’t seen this much excitement in years. In a way, it’s exciting."

  "How exciting," Gabriel replies, trying to hide the scowl he feels creeping onto his face.

  "Hey, Gabe! After this can we go to Wraithwood-Hollow? You promised you’d teach me how to take down a Wraith, and I think I’m ready! I’ve been working on a super powerful spell that will blow any Wraith to smithereens!" The young Jameson says, leaning over Nathaniel and getting just inches from Gabriel’s face before Nathaniel pushes him back into his seat.

  "Calm yourself! We are in the presence of guests.

  Jameson didn’t want to hear that from Nathaniel though. He wanted to hear Gabriel’s words, and a big smile spread across his face as Gabriel spoke.

  "For now just try and enjoy the evening, you represent the Crowsongs now. I am certain you’ll get the chance to show off that spell soon enough, so don’t worry."

  As the three exchange small talk, a whisper makes its way into Gabriel’s mind, so quiet that he initially dismisses it as a stray thought

  "The eyes."

  But soon, the voice grows louder and more urgent, demanding his attention. "The eyes, count the eyes. How many eyes are there? Why are there so many eyes?"

  Gabriel’s pulse quickens, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His instincts, honed by countless battles, compel him to heed the warning. He scans the room, tallying each set of eyes that meet his own. Some friendly, others cordial, and others full of animosity. But the result sent a shiver down his spine. He could feel other eyes prying on him yet. Unaccounted eyes.

  "Gabriel, Is something wrong?" Nathaniel asks, concern etched across his face.

  "No," Gabriel lies, unwilling to share the gnawing unease within himself just yet. He struggles to maintain his composure, feeling exposed and vulnerable all at once due to these damned eyes.

  "Gabriel," the whispered voice persisted, "the eyes… they're watching."

  Gabriel clenches his hands beneath the table until his knuckles turn white. Who or what could be the source of these eyes? He looks down to the steak on his plate. He hasn’t so much as taken a bite yet. How could anyone eat while listening to this?

  "Gabriel," Nathaniel repeats, before lowering his voice. "Your eyes are dilated, and your heart rate is skyrocketing. What’s going on?"

  "There’s too many fucking eyes," Gabriel mutters more to himself than anything, hoping that this statement would prove to be unfounded. But he knows better than to ignore this creeping dread that tightens its grip on him with each passing moment.

  The voice only grows louder, more insistent, gnawing at the edges of Gabriel’s mind like a vulture tearing at a decaying corpse. "The eyes!" the voice screams.

  "Gabriel!" Victor hisses, snapping his son out of his unsettling reverie. For a moment, Gabriel dares to hope that his father had sensed the same unease that grips him, but his words quickly dash any such thought.

  "Where are your siblings? It is utterly disgraceful that they're about to miss the Solstice of Souls. Go find them and bring them here at once!"

  "Of course, Father," Gabriel replies, grateful for a reprieve from the suffocating atmosphere of the grand hall. As he rises, however, someone new addresses him with a voice as smooth as silk.

  "Gabriel, is the food not to your liking? You've yet to touch it. Why, I’d think a man of your stature would need to eat to maintain that size."

  "Forgive me, Lord Vespero," Gabriel says, trying to hide the trepidation that claws at the back of his throat. "I'm just...not feeling well tonight."

  Lucius Vespero, seated right next to Victor, is one of four leaders of the Stygian Conclave, and the only one present tonight. His face is hidden by the Ivory Visage. Each of the Stygian’s had a mask that represented their life, their history, and their strength. But…not even Ethel knew the significance of Lucius’s mask.

  "Gabriel Crowsong, do you intend to miss the main event? We won’t wait on you to begin, you know," Lucius says, and quickly shakes his head, a small chuckle leaving his lips. "Don’t mind me, I was just looking forward to becoming acquainted with you is all. Please, go fetch your siblings as Lord Victor instructed,'' Lucius acquiesces, his thin, featureless, pale mask preventing any emotion from escaping.

  "Come with me," Gabriel whispers to Nathaniel, only for Victor to bristle at the suggestion.

  "Nathaniel does not need to accompany you, you are an adult. Go yourself!"

  "Clarence isn't here either. It's only fair that Nathaniel collects his own siblings as well, isn’t it?" Gabriel insists, unwilling to leave Nathaniel behind in this place. After a tense pause, Victor relents, waving the two away with a flick of his wrist.

  Right before Gabriel rounds the corner out of the grand hall, he looks back to Jameson, whose gaze meets his own. As the two make their way down the long corridors of the manor, Nathaniel remains silent until Gabriel speaks.

  "Head to the West wing and collect Clarence and my sister," Gabriel instructs, his voice deathly low. "I’m going to look for Marcus and my brother, and then we can meet at the usual place. There’s far too many eyes around here. Something's wrong, I can feel it."

  Nathaniel grabs a hold of Gabriel’s arm, his fingers pressing into his cousin's wrist. A faint red glow can be seen as runes float into the air above Gabriel’s arm. Nathaniel reads them, and shakes his head slightly.

  "No signs of poisoning, you’re not under the effect of any spells, and you’re perfectly healthy. Whatever it is you’re worried about isn’t being caused by an outside source… I’ll do as you say, but if Lord Victor throws a tantrum about this, then I’m putting the blame on you."

  "That’s fine."

  Nathaniel doesn’t say another word, and turns on his heel, heading toward the West wing. Nathaniel’s footsteps echo down the corridor as he disappears around a corner.

  The whispers, or were they Gabriel’s thoughts? Only grew louder, persisting in their maddening statement: "The eyes, the eyes, the eyes, the eyes, the eyes, the eyes, the eyes, the eyes, the eyes, the eyes, the eyes, the eyes, the eyes, the eyes, the eyes, the-"

  "Shut up!" Gabriel cries out, attempting to silence the voice. He clutches his head, looking down to the floor in pain.

  And then, he sees them.

  A pair of eyes, gleaming from within the depths of his own shadow. The moment their gazes lock, Gabriel’s instincts flare to life, screaming at him to move. With nigh-inhuman speed, Gabriel tears the mace from his cloak. Grave-Breaker, its monstrous skull grinning with a silent promise of death. He brings it crashing down upon the figure in his shadow with all his might.

  Bone and flesh alike give way as blood sprays across the hallway, staining it with the life essence of the Stygian who had dared to infiltrate his shadow. For a fleeting moment, Gabriel allows himself the luxury of a relieved sigh, believing the threat to be gone.

  "No, Margaret!" A voice cries out, and Gabriel turns to face its origin.

  Fate, it seems, is not done with him yet. As Gabriel raises his gore-slicked weapon, the hall around him comes to life with the presence of dozens of Stygians. Each of their faces is covered in a different mask. Some are of animals, others of beasts, and others are seemingly abstract. Some of the Stygians wield swords, and crouch alongside spellcasters, the spellcasters are already chanting spells under their breath. At the head of them all is an elderly man, with a ball of fire in his hand.

  "You?" Gabriel snarls, and yanks his tie free before tossing it aside. "Did you still want to know what kind of magic I use?"

  "Eyessss..."

  Gabriel hears the voice again, and he swears he can see Grave-Breaker's hollow maw move. It was a new development, but he understood what that voice was now: Grave-Breaker had been whispering caution into the depths of his very soul this entire time.

  "I got it, I see the eyes now. Thank you, Grave-Breaker."

  With one last glance at the bloodied remains of the Stygian, Gabriel steels himself for the battle to come.

  Raising his weapon high, he dives into the fray.