Chapter 23: The Spark

  Lily returned to Veyth’s office and took a seat again, making sure everything looked untouched. Her plan was holding together so far. According to her story, Veyth had gone to fetch the item he claimed to have acquired from the cultists, and she was simply waiting for his return. Nothing suspicious about that.

  She waited half an hour, keeping her expression calm and her posture that of a slightly annoyed noblewoman with better things to do. When enough time had passed, she stepped outside and caught one of the pages walking through the corridor.

  “Excuse me,” she said, her tone sharp but polite. “The auctioneer, Nathanel Veyth, told me to wait in his office while he retrieved an item for me. It has been quite some time, and I have more appointments today. Could you check on him, please?”

  The boy hesitated, his eyes darting nervously toward the direction of the private halls. But her clothes, her voice, and the faint air of authority around her made him bow quickly.

  “Of course, my lady. Right away.”

  Lily nodded, feigning mild impatience. “Good. I will take my leave for now. Tell him that Lady Greenwood has other matters to attend to.”

  She didn’t stay to see what happened next. Her part in the story was done. The rest would unfold naturally once they found Veyth where she had left him—half-dead in a summoning circle, branded with infernal burns. To anyone else, it would look like the cultists’ doing.

  By the time she stepped out of the auction hall, the afternoon sun had already begun to drop. Her steps felt heavy, and her mood was still dull. It wasn’t guilt exactly, more like the echo of everything that had happened. Maybe a bit of both. She rubbed her eyes and sighed.

  When she wanted to keep her new persona, she had to return sooner or later, talk again with Gideon, maybe even with Veyth once he recovered. That thought alone made her shoulders tense. But there was no other option. She needed to keep her foothold in this city with her second—or maybe third—persona. It was easier to gain trust and influence as an elf when she couldn’t do it as a human.

  “It doesn’t help to think about it,” she muttered to herself and started walking.

  The market square was still alive. Stalls stood in neat rows, the smell of roasted meat and spiced bread thick in the air. People moved in a steady stream, shouting prices, arguing, laughing. For a moment, it almost felt normal.

  Lily bought some groceries, fresh meat, and a few herbs she recognized from Xantia’s crafting system. It felt strange to use her knowledge like this, to pick ingredients by instinct as if she was playing the game again. She had to stop herself from checking for item descriptions.

  When she finished shopping, she lingered for a while, watching a group of children chase a cat between the stalls. Then she turned away and walked back toward the inn where she had rented her suite.

  The streets had grown quieter, and the last warmth of the day faded behind the roofs. Her inventory was full, her head even fuller. She didn’t know if she wanted to sleep, think, or just stop existing for a few hours.

  “Tomorrow,” she said softly, mostly to convince herself. “Tomorrow I’ll fix it.”

  She adjusted her cloak and kept walking until the market noise disappeared behind her.

  She reached the inn as the streets finally quieted. The lamps outside flickered weakly in the cooling air, and the sound of distant carriages faded behind her. Inside, everything was still the same. Her rented suite was tidy, untouched, and felt almost too normal after the chaos of the day.

  She crossed the room to the small teleportation circle she had drawn earlier that morning. The lines were faint now, barely visible under the dim light, but the structure was still stable. With practiced movements, she knelt beside it and let mana flow from her hand into the runes. The circle shimmered faintly as it absorbed the energy, and she placed a small mana stone into the central rune to keep it charged while she was gone.

  “Good,” she murmured, watching the light settle. “That should hold for a while.”

  Then she stood, took a slow breath, and whispered the incantation for [Invisible]. Her form shimmered, and the air bent faintly around her before evening out again.

  She left the room quietly, locking the door behind her, and slipped out through the back entrance of the inn. The guards at the city gates were already changing shifts, too tired to notice the faint ripple of mana that passed between them.

  The night air outside Tiara was cool, the wind carrying the smell of grass and faint smoke drifting from the city behind her. Lily followed the same dirt path she had taken that morning when she first used [Town Call] to bring them here. The road stretched quietly through the fields, lit only by the moonlight.

  She didn’t hurry. The world around her was calm, the road empty. For the first time that day, she allowed herself to breathe without thinking of lies, covers, or plans.

  “Let’s hope those two idiots actually made it back here,” she muttered, her voice low enough to be swallowed by the wind.

  The soft glow of the city walls faded behind her, and the familiar outline of the small grove where they had first arrived came into view. When she was far enough from the gates, Lily lifted her hand and ended [Invisible]. The air shimmered once before settling again. The spell always left her with a faint sense of imbalance, a dull, drunken haze she had learned to hate today.

  She exhaled slowly, grateful to feel solid again, and let her eyes adjust to the darker fields ahead. In the pale moonlight, two figures sat beneath a tree near the grove’s edge. Marie and Sevrin, just where she had told them to wait.

  Lily slowed her steps, watching them quietly for a moment. They looked small from a distance, like two children trying to pretend they weren’t lost.

  She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and started walking toward them.

  ???

  Far away from Tiara. High above the city of Veythral, in the western tower of the Cathedral of Light, a meeting chamber stood bathed in the glow of the setting sun. Its wide arched windows overlooked the marble rooftops and golden domes of the holy capital. The air was still warm from the day, and the scent of incense lingered faintly in the room.

  Liora, the [Holy Saint], sat near the end of the chamber in front of the tall arched windows that overlooked the holy capital. The glow of the setting sun framed her figure, casting long lines of gold across the floor. Her white and gold robes rested neatly around her, and her long silver hair caught the last strands of light. The room was quiet except for the soft rustle of papers on the table and the faint creak of the stained glass as the wind pressed against it.

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  Opposite her sat two inquisitors, both also clad in heavy white robes decorated with crimson seals and gold. One was [High Inquisitor] Salan, the Church's highest-ranking investigator, known for his patience and precision. The other was [Inquisitor] Marius, younger but sharper in tone, a man who had risen through the ranks of the [Judicar Order] during the heresy trials in the south.

  They had stayed behind after the interrogation of the young [Cryptscribe] Miza Veyth. The girl had been escorted out, barely conscious after the mana-draining truth circle. Now, only the faint shimmer of dormant runes on the marble floor showed that the spell had been used at all. “So,” Liora said quietly, her gaze still fixed on the empty chair where Miza had sat, “what do you think about the intel from the Asara Bank?”

  Salan adjusted the parchment in front of him, his voice calm but determined. “It is remarkable that the young scribe caught the information in the flood of reports.”

  “Yes,” Marius added quickly. “She was honest and diligent. Others would have overlooked it.”

  Liora nodded faintly. “And yet she did not. Sometimes the Goddess speaks through the smallest voices.”

  “It is worrying that such an old account was moved after so long,” Salan said.

  “The name as well,” Marius followed. “We should investigate if we have anything about [Doomsday] in our archives. Sadly, the intel was incomplete. There must be more hidden in the Bank’s inner system.”

  “If we probe too deep, the Bank may notice,” Salan warned. “The Asara Bank defends its neutrality. If they suspect infiltration, they might restrict access across the continent.”

  Liora listened, silent for a long moment, the evening light outlining her calm face. Then she spoke softly, “I agree. We start with our own archives. There is no need to alert the Bank or anyone else until we know what we are dealing with.”

  She rose from her chair and walked slowly toward the window, her hands clasped before her. The sun was setting over the mountains, its light turning the marble streets below to gold.

  “It is not unheard of,” Salan said after a moment. “Maybe the guildmaster inherited the title from his parents, and so on. The guild could have survived with only a single member through the centuries, and now the last heir simply wants to claim his inheritance.”

  Marius shook his head. “True, it’s possible. But after the divination from the [Holy Saint]... it’s very suspicious that a guild with this name reappears now.”

  Liora looked down at the parchment on the table again.

  Account status: Dormant. (???/???)

  Dormancy period: 530 years, 8 months.

  Classification: Soulbound Guildmaster Certification. (???*)

  classified information

  She studied the words for a while, her expression unreadable. “No,” she said quietly, “we have nothing concrete. Too little. The classified seal worries me the most... but we need every lead we can get.”

  Before she could continue, a heavy knock echoed against the iron door of the chamber. The three of them turned toward the sound.

  “Enter,” Liora said.

  The door opened, and a young attendant from the Ecclesia’s Intelligence Division, one of the [Cryptscribe Relay] cells, hurried in, bowing low. “Your Grace, a live report from the scrying network. One of our sources in the Asara main branch in Burm has forwarded intercepted data. The Cryptscribes are already tracing it.”

  Liora exchanged a glance with Salan and Marius. “Patch it through.”

  The attendant raised a small rune-crystal. A faint web of light spread over the table, and the sound of distant chanting echoed softly through the chamber. Then a woman’s voice came through, calm but strained with concentration.

  “Central chamber, this is the analytical relay. Report from informant ‘Sunfeather’ confirmed. Asara main branch network registered a legal complaint filed in Tiara this morning. The guild involved is… [Doomsday].”

  Liora’s eyes hardened. “Continue.”

  “The guild is officially listed as aligned to the fallen Empire of Xares,” the voice said. “The complaint declares [Doomsday] the last recognized entity of the Empire and demands restitution of seized assets under war law. The declaration was signed and verified by the Soulbound Guildmaster certification of the guild.”

  Marius straightened slowly. “Verified? That means the guildmaster’s essence matched the old record.”

  “Confirmed,” the voice replied. “Cross-reference from the Tiara branch lists the guild’s current classification as unchanged—Ascended Guild. No downgrade.”

  For a moment the chamber was utterly still except for the hum of the relay.

  “Ascended…” Salan said quietly. “That would make them level five hundred or higher.”

  The relay continued, “The Asara Bank identified the guildmaster as Lysaria Greenwood. Race: Elven. All other fields were denied by system authority. That is all we could extract before the channel re-encrypted. The source in Burma is maintaining access but requests immediate relief; the risk of detection is high.”

  “Tell the source to withdraw once the trace is clean,” Liora said. “Do not lose them over curiosity.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” the voice answered, and the light from the rune-crystal faded.

  Silence returned to the chamber.

  Liora looked at the dark table surface for a long moment. “An Ascended guild tied to the fallen empire of Xares, active again after five centuries…”

  “It cannot be coincidence,” Marius said. “Not after your divination.”

  “That is proof enough,” Liora replied quietly. She raised her head, silver eyes sharp again. “We will not wait for secondhand reports. We travel immediately toward Tiara.”

  Salan inclined his head. “Shall I begin preparations for the [Crusader] retinue?”

  “Yes,” Liora said. “High alert. Discretion at first, but speed above all. If remnants of the old empire truly still exist, we must see it with our own eyes.”

  Both inquisitors rose from their chairs. “As you command, Holy Saint,” Salan said.

  Liora turned toward the window. The last light of day had vanished, leaving only the city’s lamps glowing far below. “Gather everyone and have them ready. By dawn, we leave for Tiara. Also, send word to the Kingdom of Burm that the Ecclesia Regnum is launching a crusade within their lands.”

  The two men bowed deeply and left the chamber. Alone again, Liora stayed by the window, her reflection faint against the glass. Under her breath, she whispered, “If the old ones return… then so does the war.”

  ???

  A few hours later, somewhere in a ritual chamber, deep beneath the fallen city of Catacrum, a hooded figure sat alone, reading from an old book. The room was lit only by flickering candles, their light struggling against the darkness that pressed in from every side. The figure rested with the tome on a stone pedestal inside a ritual circle drawn in ash and old blood.

  For a long while there was only silence, until it was broken by the echo of hurried footsteps.

  A creature, bent and covered with a ragged dark coat, rushed toward the hooded figure. Chains rattled under the fabric with every step.

  “Maaaaaster… maaaaasterrrrrr… some news… master! We got new newssss!”

  The hooded figure looked up slowly from the tome. “What now, Velka? I am close to deciphering the ritual of Seth.”

  The [Chainservant] did not stop. It stumbled forward, gasping. “But master, we got news… new news… from one of the fallen. Great news, master!”

  The hooded figure sighed dramatically and slammed the book shut. Two red eyes flared to life under the hood, fixing the servant in place.

  “All right, enlighten me with your news, Velka.”

  The servant shivered, chains clinking, almost bouncing in excitement like a dog about to be fed. “Yesss, master… new news! We got news from one of the [Black Tongue]. They have information intercepted from the Ecclesia. Yes yes yes… new news from the Ecclesia, master!”

  “Velka. Get to the point.”

  “Ahh yes, master…” The servant crouched low, trembling. “It is confirmed that one of the old is still active and demanded its place as the rightful heir of the empire!”

  The hooded figure’s voice hardened. “What? One of the old? Who?”

  “[Doomsday], master. The information was confirmed, master. [Doomsday]. They have officially filed a complaint in Tiara to protest against Asara Bank’s seizure of their assets with a soulbound guildmaster certification. The guildmaster declared that [Doomsday] is indeed the last entity tied to the fallen empire… master, master!”

  The figure rose slowly from the pedestal. “Is this real? The old were gone before the Great War. How can this be? Are you sure?”

  “Yes, master, the information is confirmed. The [Black Tongue] acquired it personally. It’s new news, master, new news. Only a few hours old, right after the Tiara bank branch sent the complaint to Burma, master.”

  “And the Ecclesia is already moving?”

  “Yes, master, yessss.”

  The hooded figure was silent for a long moment. The candles flickered lower, as if the room itself was holding its breath.

  “Why now?” he said finally. “There are too many questions open… but we can’t risk this opportunity. Move, Velka. Prepare the Covenant. We travel north—to Tiara. Put every channel on alert. The reappearance of one of the old, if this is true, can only mean one thing.”

  The [Chainservant] tilted its head. “What thing, master?”

  The figure’s red eyes burned brighter. “War.”

  The creature froze for a moment, then began to shake with excitement. It jumped once, then twice, and suddenly broke into a run toward the tunnel outside the ritual chamber, its chains clattering against the stone floor.

  “Waaaaar… it’s waaar, war war war…!” it shouted, its voice echoing through the dark corridors until it vanished into the distance.

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