Chapter 20 — The Aetherial Crest, 5
The latch turned.
Sylan froze where he stood, every nerve alive with soldier's instinct. The study's shadows wrapped around him, but Amanda Von Noctis did not belong to shadows. She belonged to command, to the sharp light of chandeliers, to control so absolute that even silence bent beneath it.
The door opened. Her heels clicked against marble as she entered, carrying the cold air of the halls with her. She shut the door behind her with a deliberate calm, as though sealing the world away.
Sylan slid a fraction deeper into shadow. The soldier inside him measured timing, angles, terrain. No retreat. No concealment. Improvisation only.
Amanda moved to the desk, her back to him, hands trailing lightly over the neat stacks of parchment. Her posture was a blade sheathed in silk—still, elegant, but dangerous by nature. She picked up a quill, dipped it into the ink, then paused.
"The servants gossip too much," she said suddenly, her voice cold but measured. "They say my son spoke of challenging another noble."
Her tone was not accusation. It was observation, stripped of warmth, stripped of anything but scrutiny.
Sylan stepped from the shadow, boots silent on the carpeted floor. "I did."
Amanda did not turn. "Why?"
"To remind them the Noctis name still commands respect."
At last, she turned. Her gaze locked on him—gray eyes like polished steel, unflinching. "Bold. But boldness without teeth is bark without bite."
Sylan inclined his head slightly, every movement measured. "Then I will grow teeth."
Her lips curved the faintest degree, though it was no smile. She set the quill down. "We'll see."
[Warning: Risk of exposure elevated. Recommendation: Maintain composure.]
He needed her blood. A drop—nothing more. He scanned the room, mind calculating. The serpent-shaped crystal paperweight gleamed on the desk, sharp edges catching moonlight. The inkwell sat precariously near her hand. One mistake, one deliberate miscalculation, and she could bleed.
But Amanda Von Noctis did not make mistakes. He would have to engineer one.
Sylan stepped closer, keeping his voice calm, deferential. "Do you wish me to fetch more ink, Mother? The vial looks low."
Amanda arched a brow. "You notice such things now?"
"I notice more than I used to."
She considered him for a long, quiet moment, then nodded to the inkwell. "Then pour it. Let's see if your hands are steady."
A test again. Always a test.
He lifted the vial with soldier's precision, but as he tilted it toward the inkwell, his thumb pressed just so against the lip—deliberate pressure, subtle, invisible to anyone watching. The glass slipped.
The vial struck the serpent paperweight with a sharp crack, splintering into glittering shards. Ink spilled across the desk in a dark tide. A fragment of glass spun, slicing across Amanda's hand as she reached instinctively to steady the paperweight.
Her sharp intake of breath cut the silence.
Blood welled—a thin, crimson line across her palm.
Sylan's heart pounded, but his expression remained calm, even contrite. "Forgive me, Mother." He seized a cloth from the desk's corner and stepped forward quickly, soldier's efficiency masquerading as filial concern. He pressed the cloth to her palm, his touch steady.
Amanda watched him, unblinking, her gaze cold but unreadable.
"Clumsy," she said.
"Yes." His tone carried no defense, only acceptance. "It won't happen again."
The cloth darkened where blood seeped into it. More than enough.
[Objective update: Amanda Von Noctis blood sample acquired. Progress: 100%.]
Sylan kept his grip light, steady, soldier's hands hiding the precision of a thief. He folded the cloth smoothly, slipping the bloodied edge against his sleeve in a motion masked by his assistance.
Amanda withdrew her hand. "Adequate," she said flatly. "You can go."
He inclined his head, retreating with controlled steps. Every instinct screamed at him not to rush, not to reveal the pounding of his heart. He opened the study door, dipped his head once more, and left.
The corridor outside was empty. Moonlight traced cold lines across the floor. He walked swiftly but silently, his hand brushing against the folded cloth hidden in his sleeve. The mission was complete.
[Objective complete: Acquire Amanda Von Noctis's key and blood sigil. Remaining time: Eight days. Next step: Access forbidden archives.]
At the far end of the corridor, Virelle emerged from the shadows, her brown eyes wide. "Did you—?"
Sylan gave a curt nod. "I did."
Relief softened her features. "Then the Crest—"
"Not yet." His crimson eyes burned, the soldier in him refusing celebration. "This was one step."
The system pulsed again, harsher this time.
[Warning: Elias Vaughn proximity increasing. Estimated encounter likelihood: 65%.]
Sylan's jaw tightened. The Game is moving faster.
He turned toward the darkened stairwell, resolve hardening like steel. "The Crest comes next. And when Elias appears, I'll be ready."
But deep in the study, Amanda Von Noctis sat alone, her gray eyes thoughtful as she studied the bloodied cloth left behind.
She had not missed the steadiness of her son's hands.