Nujah stepped into the chamber, and silence followed.
The clinking of glasses paused, masked faces turned, and tension rippled like silk in water.
Just then, the crow shrieked and shot into the air, flapping wildly near the chandelier.
"Oh, what a marvelous hall! Nobody move — I'm claiming the comfiest beam!"
A few nobles chuckled; others frowned. But none looked at Nujah now.
He slipped a hand behind his back.
His form wavered — a ripple in candlelight — and then he was gone.
Where he once stood, thin black mist trailed toward the corners of the room.
A shadow crept under tables, along curtains, behind statues.
Not magic — instinct.
He wasn't looking for guards. He wasn't looking for Vercurius.
He was looking for signs.
A dropped coin under a chair. A smudge on a painting's frame.
A trail of dust disturbed in the wrong direction.
He wasn't sure what he was looking for…
but he knew something here didn't belong.
And whatever it was — it had just moved.
As Nujah listened to the nobles' idle chatter, a voice caught his attention.
A young woman leaned in toward her group, whispering with excitement:
> "She's going to his room tonight — the one with the golden door!"
"They say she's his lover. Can you believe it?"
"She told me she won't make it later. She'll send an excuse in about three hours."
The others giggled, oblivious to the ears that heard too much.
Nujah turned and quietly slipped away.
When no one was looking, the crow fluttered down beside him.
With a low voice, Nujah said:
> "Come."
They entered the room silently.
As soon as the door shut, Nujah spun around — and grabbed the crow by the throat.
Dark veins of shadow crept from his fingertips, crawling into the bird's feathers.
> "I'm sorry," he said coldly.
"But you tried to trick me first."
The crow struggled, but it was too late.
—
Two hours later, the door opened.
Vercurius entered.
The moment he stepped into the room, gravity shattered.
Everything — the furniture, the curtains, the dust in the air — collapsed downward like the world had reversed.
Nothing could rise.
Nothing could move.
He smiled as he stood effortlessly in the storm of stillness.
> "I didn't think you'd fall this easily... not after all this time."
He turned to the crow.
> "Well done. The paper you wanted — I have it. Take it."
Then a voice replied — clear, calm, and strangely familiar.
> "Thank you, my lord."
It was Nujah's own voice.
Vercurius blinked.
Nujah stood in front of him, unbothered.
He locked eyes with Vercurius — and didn't look away.
Something inside Vercurius cracked.
His knees buckled.
His arms fell limp.
A second later, he collapsed — unconscious.
Nujah calmly shifted back to his true form.
Then turned to the crow.
With a simple motion, he withdrew the curse, pulling the dark threads from its throat and wings.
Its body returned to normal.
Healed. Unharmed.
Then, he stepped over to Vercurius's fallen form.
From within the folds of his robes, he pulled the sealed fragment — the piece they had come for.
He raised his hand.
Shadows surged forward, weaving around the body like ropes of smoke.
They wrapped Vercurius tightly, lifting him off the floor.
Without a word, Nujah cast a teleportation spell.
They appeared by the nearest shore — the edge of a quiet port.
The sky was pale, almost morning.
Nujah approached a docked ship and handed the sailor a heavy pouch.
> "You didn't hear anything tonight," he said.
"No matter what it sounds like."
The man nodded — the weight of gold heavier than his curiosity.
And without another word, the ship slipped into the