He moon hung like a silver scythe over Caldera, its pale light slicing through the estate's gardens, where shadows writhed like coiling serpents. Magnus Caldryn sat cross-legged in his chambers, the twin shadow sabers resting across his knees. Forged with the Umbral Forge Technique, their blades shimmered with a dark, liquid sheen, the shadow qi woven into their steel pulsing faintly in the candlelight. His crimson eyes, unnaturally vivid since his reincarnation, burned with a predator's focus. His dantian, newly formed through the grueling Shadow Flower Breathing, thrummed with nascent power, a reminder that the Withered Thorn was awakening.
Rhea Varyn stood before him, her raven hair loose, her grey eyes flickering with a mix of wariness and resolve. She had forsaken the Black Veil, lured by the promise of power and the chilling truth of Magnus's transformation. In the span of a single night, she had seen him dispatch trained killers with a grace that belied his reputation as Caldera's drunken fool. But trust was a fragile thing, and Magnus, shaped by the betrayals of his past life, kept her at arm's length, a blade held in reserve.
"Speak," he commanded, his voice a low, venomous whisper, laced with the authority of the Shadows Hand. "The Black Veil, the contract, the one framing me for Torren's murder. Hold back, Rhea, and you'll find my mercy is thinner than my blades."
Rhea's jaw tightened, but she met his gaze, her resolve hardened by the blood they'd already spilled together. "The Black Veil buries its clients' names deeper than a crypt," she said, her voice steady despite the tension. "But I've heard whispers in the guildhall. The contract to discredit you was no small thing 10,000 gold crowns, funneled through a merchant front called the Gilded Ledger. It's a shadow for someone with power, likely a high lord or guildmaster with ties to the royal court. They didn't want you dead, just broken a scandal to cripple House Caldryn's influence."
Magnus's mind was a storm of calculation, each word a piece in the deadly puzzle. The Gilded Ledger was a fresh lead, but its implications echoed the theft of Torren's ledger a strike at House Caldryn's trade alliances. A figure in the royal court, perhaps a scheming noble or a merchant lord with deep coffers, could wield such influence. The poison in his veins, the staged murder, the Black Veil's involvement all were threads in a tapestry of betrayal, and Magnus was the scapegoat they'd underestimated.
"Then we hunt the Gilded Ledger," he said, rising with a fluid grace that belied his body's lingering weakness. His fingers brushed the hilts of his sabers, their shadow aura humming in response. "Find their agents in Caldera. Where do they meet? Who carries their coin?"
Rhea hesitated, her eyes searching his for a moment before she nodded. "The Crimson Die, a gambling den in the lower district. It's a front for their dealings merchants, assassins, spies, all hiding behind dice and wine. The Gilded Ledger's runners pass messages there, disguised as high-stakes bets. It's no easy mark, though. Guards, traps, and eyes everywhere."
Magnus's smile was a razor's edge, cold and predatory. "Perfect. I've been itching for a real fight. Lead the way."
The lower district was a labyrinth of squalor and sin, its cobblestone streets slick with grime and echoing with the clink of coin. Magnus moved like a wraith, his Phantom Lotus Steps carrying him over rooftops and through alleys with ghostly precision. His body, still far from the honed weapon of his past life, thrummed with the vitality of his dantian, each step infused with shadow qi. Rhea struggled to keep pace, her movements trained but lacking the preternatural grace of a Shadow's Hand master. Still, her knowledge of Caldera's underbelly was invaluable, and her loyalty, however new was proving its worth.
The Crimson Die was ahead, a gaudy tavern bathed in the bloody glow of red lanterns. Its shuttered windows hid the chaos within, but the hum of voices, the clatter of dice, and the occasional drunken shout seeped through the walls. Rhea pointed to a shadowed alley beside the building. "The back entrance leads to their private rooms. Two guards, armed with swords and cudgels. Inside, it's a maze of chambers, and the Gilded Ledger's agent will be in the deepest one, handling payments."
Magnus nodded, his senses sharpening like a blade against a whetstone. He felt the weight of unseen eyes another watcher, perhaps, or the district's ever-present paranoia. "Stay close," he whispered, drawing one saber, its shadow aura flickering like a living thing. "We go in quiet. If it turns loud, follow my lead."
They slipped into the alley, Magnus's blade glinting faintly in the moonlight. The guards at the door were hulking figures, their leather armor creaking as they shifted. Magnus struck with the speed of a viper, his 'Phantom Lotus Steps' closing the gap in a heartbeat. His saber slashed across the first guard's throat, a silent kill that sprayed blood across the stones. The second guard raised his cudgel, but Magnus's second saber caught his arm, severing tendons before he could scream. Both crumpled, their bodies swallowed by the alley's shadows.
Rhea's eyes widened, a mix of awe and unease flickering across her face, but she said nothing, slipping through the door behind him. The back rooms were a warren of narrow corridors, lit by flickering oil lamps that cast grotesque shapes on the walls. The air was thick with the scent of smoke, wine, and fear. Voices echoed from deeper within laughter, heated arguments, the clink of gold changing hands. Magnus's qi-enhanced senses detected a trap a thin wire stretched across the floor, rigged to trigger a hidden mechanism. He signaled Rhea to step over it, earning a nod of grudging respect.
The deepest chamber was guarded by a single figure, a wiry man with a scarred face and a crossbow slung at his hip. His eyes narrowed as Magnus entered, but he had no time to react. Magnus surged forward, his sabers a blur of shadow and steel. The first blade knocked the crossbow aside, and the second pinned the man to the wall, its tip grazing his throat. The scarred man froze, his bravado crumbling under the weight of Magnus's crimson gaze.
"The Gilded Ledger," Magnus hissed, his voice cold as the grave. "Who's your master? Who paid for the contract on Magnus Caldryn?"
The man's scar-twisted face paled, but he managed a sneer. "You're the drunk noble, eh? You're wading in waters too deep, boy. Kill me, and you'll learn nothing."
Magnus pressed the saber harder, drawing a thin bead of blood. "I've carved answers from men who thought themselves untouchable. Speak, or I'll make you beg for the mercy I won't give."
The man's resolve shattered, fear flooding his eyes. "I don't know the name! The orders came from the capital, through a courier a woman, cloaked, wearing a silver ring shaped like a quill. She paid for the contract, said it was to 'clip the Caldryn thorn.' That's all I know, I swear!"
Magnus's blood ran cold. A woman from the capital, a silver quill ring it was a lead, pointing to the royal court's shadowed players. A noblewoman, perhaps, or a spymaster weaving webs from afar. He knocked the man out with a precise strike to the temple, letting him slump to the floor.
Rhea, rifling through a nearby desk, held up a sealed letter. "Found this in a hidden compartment. It's marked with a quill sigil. Could be their next orders."
Magnus broke the seal, his Shadows Hand training recognizing the cipher a merchant's code, simple but effective. The letter detailed a meeting at the docks in two nights, where the Gilded Ledger's client would collect "the package." No names, but the intent was clear: the stolen ledger, or something tied to it, was still in play.
"Burn the room," Magnus ordered, tucking the letter into his tunic. "Let the Gilded Ledger know their secrets aren't safe."
Rhea set a torch to the desk, flames roaring up the walls as scrolls and ledgers curled into ash. The heat licked at their backs as they slipped out, the Crimson Die erupting into chaos behind them shouts of alarm, the clatter of boots, too late to matter. They vanished into the night, shadows among shadows, until they reached the safety of the Caldryn estate.
In his chambers, Magnus spread the letter before him, its coded words illuminated by moonlight. His sabers, propped against the wall, gleamed with their shadow aura, a reminder of the power he was reclaiming. Rhea lingered by the door, her loyalty now forged in blood and fire, her grey eyes steady despite the night's violence.
"What's the plan?" she asked, her voice firm, a soldier awaiting orders.
Magnus's smile was a predator's grin, his crimson eyes alight with menace. "We go to the docks in two nights. We find the woman with the quill ring. And we make this bitch behind this pay."
Rhea nodded, slipping into the night to scout and prepare. Alone, Magnus gripped his sabers, their shadow aura pulsing in time with his dantian. was no longer a pawn in Calder. Magnus Caldryn a's deadly game. He was a blade, forged in betrayal and tempered by resolve, and the hunt was about to draw its first blood.
To be continued in Chapter 7