Chapter 20 – Shadows of the Forbidden City
The night sky above Teradel split with a sudden whoosh. Out of the emptiness, a sleek black vessel shimmered into being, its metallic surface catching faint traces of starlight as though even the heavens hesitated to touch it. The craft resembled a fighter jet, but smaller—half the size, leaner, sharper. Its design was predatory, like a bird of prey gliding in search of its next kill.
It descended slowly, silently, the hum of its engines fading to a low thrum as it hovered over the landing strip just outside the city. With a final hiss, it touched down. The canopy at its front lifted with mechanical precision, and a staircase unfolded with smooth, practiced grace.
Carl stepped down. His boots met the ground with barely a sound, yet the weight of his presence drew every attendant to him at once. Guards, aides, and retainers rushed forward—among them the gray-haired butler who had once delivered him the sealed letter that started this spiral. They bowed deeply, voices rising in greeting.
Carl did not answer. Their words drifted past him like wind against stone. His mind was still in that chamber, still hearing voices sharpened by fear and tension, still seeing the face of the one who haunted him most.
Micheal.
The man who had taken everything from him—and then laughed, taking delight in his pain.
Carl clenched his jaw until it hurt. Not yet. Not now. He was not strong enough. But soon...
The meeting had stretched on for almost a full day, punctuated by adjournments every few hours. Each recess allowed them to consult their higher councils, to weigh choices with those who ruled from above. None of them were the true leaders of their races. They were guardians, envoys, stewards of power—but not the ones who could decide the fate of nations on a whim.
And the subject demanded caution.
The Forbidden City.
Nearly five centuries ago, before the Great Awakening reshaped the world, the place had been nothing more than a sleepy town named Greymire. Brick houses, narrow streets, a modest community. Forgettable, ordinary—until the month everything changed.
The official records said little. "The government ordered a full evacuation. No reason disclosed." That was all. A line in the archives, sterile and bloodless.
But Carl had seen more. Reports buried under layers of seals, testimonies hidden where no ordinary eyes could see. Survivors whispered of a red aura that seeped from the male dormitory of Greymire High Academy. At first faint—just a red haze at the edge of vision—but those who felt it spoke of their hearts hammering, their breath failing, their limbs locking as primal terror smothered them.
They could not approach. Not even the bravest dared. And the few who tried… collapsed after only a few steps, frothing at the mouth, their eyes wide with terror no one else could see.
The aura spread. Day by day, street by street, until the government stepped in and cleared the town with ruthless efficiency. Families abandoned homes, belongings, entire lives. Greymire was swallowed whole.
And in its absence, a name took root. The Forbidden City.
Carl's fists curled behind his back as he walked past his aides. They said nothing, though their eyes followed him with unease. The shadow of Greymire was heavy enough without words.
Even now, after centuries, the place pulsed like an open wound on the map of the world. A silence too deep, a dread too heavy. And now… that silence was breaking.
The memory of the chamber clung to him as he entered Teradel's gates. He could still see the oval table of dark stone, the weight of auras pressing against one another so heavily that even air had seemed scarce.
It had begun with Silas, the werewolf patriarch. His clawed fingers drummed on the table as his gravel-deep voice filled the room.
"The beasts in the forest are becoming restless. More leave the forest each day. My warriors report casualties—too many. This unrest cannot be ignored."
The others nodded faintly, though none looked far from Micheal. Their gazes never strayed, their bodies taut, their intents sharp enough to slice stone. Every one of them was ready to strike if he so much as twitched wrong.
Micheal leaned back lazily in his chair, fangs flashing as he chuckled. The sound grated across Carl's bones.
Somali, envoy of the oceans, sat apart, arms crossed. Land beasts were not that much of a concern to her. if they reached the sea, they would vanish without a trace—devoured by the leviathans lurking beneath.
Aurora's voice cut through next, calm but firm.
"I propose we hold the lines, nothing more. Sending warriors into an unrest we don't understand is reckless. We don't know the danger. We'd only be sending them to die."
"Why assume they would die?" Serena's smile was light, her tone sweet, but her eyes glimmered sharp as blades.
Aurora's frown deepened. She opened her mouth to reply—but Carl's voice came first, steadier now, the anger pressed down beneath cold resolve.
"Because she thinks the cause lies in the Forbidden City."
The chamber fell silent. Even Serena's smile
faltered.
Hearing this, Micheal's grin widened.
"Finally. Someone speaks of what truly matters. I thought you were all going to bore me all day"
The echo of his laughter followed suit. It filled Carl's skull, even now.
The meeting had spiraled from there. Whispers of Greymire spread through the room like poison.
And then Micheal, with his sharp teeth and sharper arrogance, had said the unthinkable:
"We should go there. Take a look ourselves."
The air had grown colder. Every one of them had been to the outskirts of that place before. Every one of them had felt the aura that suffocated even the strongest. Incapacitating them beneath layers of dread. One time had been enough to swear never go there again.
Yet Micheal smiled as if daring them to object.
Aurora recovered first, her words clipped.
"I suggested we defend the borders. Delay rash actions. If reconnaissance is needed, send satellites over the forest. I know we would not see much but it's better than jumping into danger headfirst."
Seeing them quite she added "you do remember that there are powerful beasts in that forest that even surpass us in rank right?"
A murmur of agreement rippled through the chamber, though it carried no conviction. Everyone there knew what Aurora said was true: satellites saw little beneath the forest's shroud, and the Forbidden City remained sealed in its own veil.
Still, the suggestion stood. And so the meeting fractured again—adjourning, deliberating, each envoy retreating to private rooms to seek the wisdom of their higher councils.
When they returned, the decision had been ironed out. A small squad would be sent into the forest—not the city. Not yet. For now, containment and observation. Nothing more.
The rest of the meeting had turned to matters of trade, of resources, of temporary alliances. But no one's mind truly left Greymire.
Carl paused at the steps of his estate. His fists had curled so tight his knuckles were white. He forced himself to breathe, to let go. Slowly his hands opened again.
The Forbidden City. Greymire.
A cursed wound that had never healed.
And the beasts grew restless by the day.
So long as that shadow lingered, someone—sooner or later—would have to face