A few days ago…
An elven man stood at a secluded spot on the outskirts of town, his hood drawn low over his face. His clothes were simple yet well-maintained, the kind that wouldn't draw attention in a crowd. He carried himself with the ease of someone who belonged, blending in without effort. But beneath the surface, there was nothing ordinary about him.
The real Othien, the city official whose identity he had taken, was long dead. A devoted member of The Quiet Testament now wore his face, his mannerisms, his life. He was the backup plan in case Eryndor and Enira fail in their job.
Days ago, he had intercepted information about Myrra's impending move to Rulmose Institute. Without hesitation, he had relayed it back to his superiors. Now, he was waiting for the next step.
Finally, the air shimmered unnaturally, and from the darkness, something emerged. Not walked, arrived. A creature of shifting limbs carried him, its form flickering between existence and void before dissolving into nothingness as its rider stepped forward.
Veydris.
His skin was pale, his features sharp, but it was his eyes that stood out, a deep, dark red that caught the moonlight, giving him an almost spectral appearance. There was no tension in his posture, no sign of urgency, as if the events unfolding were nothing more than a formality. He was not here to struggle. He was here to take what was already his.
Othien immediately stiffened, pressing a fist to his chest in a sign of respect. "Lord Veydris."
Veydris glanced at the distant lights of the town. "This place is dreadfully dull. Do you ever wonder how people live like this, Othien?"
Othien shifted uncomfortably. "Not really. It's just a town."
"A town filled with insects who scurry about, thinking their lives have meaning," Veydris mused, his tone almost amused. "But I suppose even insects can be useful."
Othien remained silent, unsure if Veydris expected a response. The air felt heavier in the man's presence.
After a moment, Veydris turned his gaze toward him. "I will take action."
Othien blinked, stiffening. "Now?"
"Yes." Veydris's voice was calm, certain. "Once she reaches Rulmose, it will be much harder to move. It's better to control her now, while we still can."
Othien hesitated before carefully asking, "Is this an order from the higher-"
Veydris's gaze sharpened, silencing him instantly. "You follow my orders now, Othien. Or would you rather explain your hesitation to them yourself?"
Othien hesitated. "But what if there's someone protecting her?"
Veydris let out a quiet chuckle. "It's just a small town. No one here matters. At most, there might be a Second Order lurking about." He turned his crimson gaze toward the distant lights. "And even if there are multiple, I can take care of them."
As they turned toward the town, a ripple passed through the air, a distortion barely perceptible, until it wasn't.
It settled into something unnatural, a presence that hadn't been there a moment ago but now felt as if it had always existed. A shift in reality itself.
Aeson stood before them.
He had no grand entrance, no thunderous step to announce his arrival. He was simply there, as if the world had rearranged itself to accommodate his presence. His gaze was cold, unreadable, untouched by the dim light of the town beyond. There was no cloak billowing in the wind, no drawn weapon, just a man who carried an unfathomable stillness, the kind that preceded something inevitable.
Othien's body tensed, dread settling deep in his bones. He had been exposed. They had known all along. The so-called oversight of the administration wasn't negligence, it was a calculated move, a net cast wide, waiting for something far more dangerous to step in. And now, the bait had done its job. The trap had closed.
Veydris, however, only smiled, his gaze fixed on Aeson. "Aeson. Second Order, correct?" His voice was steady, almost amused. "How fortunate. I have brought a gift for you."
From the shadows behind him, something stirred. A presence, wrong in every possible way. It wasn't just a person; it was something else entirely. A massive, hooded figure loomed behind Veydris, its body covered in intricate, pulsing runes that seemed to writhe against its flesh. Chains bound its arms and legs, but they weren't restraints, they were conduits, glowing faintly with dark energy, feeding into the creature like veins pumping something vile through its form.
Veydris smirked. "With this, I can hold you down and any other Second Order, And without interference?" He let out a soft chuckle. "Well, I believe I will enjoy myself."
Aeson didn't react. He simply watched. Cold. Silent.
A terrible pause settled between them.
Then, softly, Aeson spoke.
"Fool."
The world shattered.
A pressure unlike anything before descended. The ground beneath them cracked, spiderwebbing outward in violent fractures. Othien choked, blood spilling from his lips as he dropped to his knees. Veydris staggered, his entire body trembling, veins bulging under his pale skin as he tried, and failed, to resist. Even the monstrous figure behind him faltered, its runes flickering wildly as if they were being unraveled at the core.
Veydris' breath came in ragged gasps. His mind reeled, clawing for understanding. This wasn't possible. No Second Order could-
His eyes widened in horror.
"No… You are not Second Order…"
Aeson raised his hand.
The air around them twisted, folded, and then pulled.
Memories, thoughts, very essences ripped free. A silent, agonized wail filled the space as Veydris, Othien, and the bound monstrosity convulsed, their forms unraveling like threads. Their eyes hollowed, their existence itself siphoned into oblivion.
Aeson's voice was calm. Absolute.
"Disappear."
Their bodies disintegrated where they stood, reduced to mere dust, fading into the night as if they had never existed at all.
Aeson's gaze shifted toward the distant direction of Ian's home. "Now, it's on you," he murmured.
The higher ranks had already taken notice. The sudden involvement of Eryndor and Enira with Myrra's family had caught their attention, but they remained uncertain, until Ian subdued them. Aeson, too, had been aware of the fight. In fact, he had been watching from a distance.
There were multiple reasons for his interest. First, this was his town, his domain, his peace. He would not allow anyone to disturb it. That alone was enough reason for him to act. But beyond that, he thought highly of Ian, he had been the first to meet him, after all. And deeper still, there were unknown secrets at play, threads weaving through the shadows that only he could perceive.
However, for now, his focus was elsewhere. He had a particular curiosity about the Quiet Testament, not the organization, but the one pulling the strings behind them.
"Still, to think you would receive Zephar Petals," Aeson murmured. He had seen it before, during that last encounter. For a being of his level, he had seen through it at a glance; but to him, it was of no particular use or interest.
But the significance… that was another matter entirely.
Zephar Petals were not mere trinkets, not gifts to be given lightly. They were a mark, an acknowledgment from that place.
A place that stood beyond the mundane. Even the Elven civilization, which sat unrivaled at the peak of the existence. Even they, with all their might and ancient dominion, would not dare to tread there without cause, without the utmost necessity.
With that thought lingering, Aeson vanished into the night.
After some time, in a secluded villa in Efsagroth, the air was thick with the scent of exotic incense, a slow-burning fragrance that left a lingering sweetness in the breath. Dim neon light flickered against silk-draped walls, casting fluid, hypnotic shadows that danced with the faintest movement.
Carion knelt before the woman reclining languidly on an ornate chaise. Her sheer silks clung to her body like liquid, shifting with every subtle motion. The fabric, delicate and near-translucent, barely concealed the supple curves beneath, designed less for modesty and more for allure. Beneath the gauzy layers, smooth, flawless skin gleamed in the candlelight, every breath she took a slow, deliberate tease.
Phyrra trailed her fingers along the rim of a crystal goblet, her crimson lips curving into an indulgent smile. "Carion," she murmured, voice like silk, rich and inviting, "I assume you wouldn't interrupt my evening without good reason."
Carion lowered his gaze. "Lady Phyrra… Lord Veydris is dead."
For a fleeting moment, Phyrra froze, her fingers pausing in their idle tracing along the rim of the crystal goblet. "That idiot," she exhaled, tilting her head just slightly, exposing the graceful curve of her neck. "I told him to wait… but he just couldn't hold back, could he?"
She leaned forward just enough to let the silks slide along her skin. "What about the others? Have all our agents been discovered?"
Carion remained still. "No, my Lady. There are still some left."
"Good." She leaned back, tapping a finger against the armrest. "Give me their details."
A brief pause, then Carion handed over a small, intricately folded parchment. Phyrra unfolded it, scanning the contents with half-lidded eyes. After a moment, she smiled faintly.
"Arrange for them to move to Ial Themar," she said, rolling the parchment closed between her fingers.
Carion bowed his head. "Yes, my lady."
As he turned to leave, Phyrra stretched, arching her back slightly in an effortless display of sensuality. "Oh, and one more thing," she murmured, her voice like a purr. "You're still a student at Rulmose, aren't you?"
"Yes," Carion replied, pausing mid-step. "I'm currently on leave, serving you."
"How devoted," she mused, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against her goblet. "Return back… and keep an eye on things for me."
She leaned forward then, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "But before that… let me taste you."
Carion's breath hitched, but he did not falter. "As you command," he murmured, stepping closer.
A low, sultry laugh escaped her as she reached for him, the sheer silk slipping from her shoulder. Soon, soft gasps and muffled moans filled the room, blending with the crackling of the fire, a symphony of pleasure that stretched into the night.
Present Time, A Week Later after the Encounter
The usual group was gathered around the table, a heated game of UNO in progress. Cards slammed onto the table, laughter filled the air, and playful insults were thrown without restraint. But tonight, there was an unexpected addition.
Seated among them, with his usual calm presence, was none other than Vulre's grandfather, Aeson.
Ian had been surprised at first, but he didn't mind. If anything, he had a deep respect for the man. Aeson had been the first to lend him a helping hand, and despite his quiet demeanor, Ian had long realized that beneath it lay a will as unshakable as steel.
Aeson wasn't here just to play or visit, though. Not entirely.
"I heard you're planning to leave for Rulmose," Aeson remarked, his voice carrying a weight that was hard to ignore.
Ian nodded. "Yeah. I'll be heading out soon."
"Good," Aeson said simply. Then, after a pause, he added, "I came to visit, but also, Imryll wanted to send something to Axilya. Some gifts from home, things she made herself. I was wondering if you'd take them for her."
Ian blinked, then chuckled. "You don't have to ask. Of course, I'll take it."
Aeson gave a small nod, as if that was the expected answer. "Good. She'd appreciate it."
He reached into his coat, pulling out something small and metallic; a finely crafted insignia. He placed it on the table in front of Ian.
"This isn't much," Aeson said, "but it might help you get around. Consider it a small token of thanks."
Ian picked it up, inspecting the intricate engravings. "You really don't have to thank me for anything," he said, shaking his head. But he pocketed the insignia nonetheless.
Aeson's gaze shifted to the UNO game. Vulre was grumbling about getting hit with a Draw Four, and Lura was barely holding back laughter.
"Seems like you're struggling," Aeson remarked, his tone dry.
Vulre looked up, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Grandfather, you play?"
Aeson gave a rare, faint smile. "I learn quickly."
And just like that, he joined the game, effortlessly blending into the chaos.