The silence that ensued after was palpable in the air, making the crackles and illumination from the heart seem surreal.
Vaeron paced around the table, letting the silent thud of his boot express the vehemence of his thoughts when he heard the man speak.
"My lord…" The hesitation from the Commander caught his attention. "…if I may—perhaps we should consider seeking aid from the Nameless King. His fleets alone outnumber Stormhill's ships threefold. If he moves his banners to our side, Stormhill will hesitate,"
At the mention, Vaeron's eyes darkened and the wind outside clawed against the narrow slits of the windows like some half-starved beast desperate to get in, causing the flames to flicker.
Something was frightening and dangerous in the way his aura intensified, as he paced around the table. The contempt in those eyes could burn the manor to ashes.
The Nameless King of Blackvale, he thought truly for the first time since that message. The last time he sought aid, what he bargained for almost destroyed something in him. Yet history had a way of circling back upon itself, and though he despised the truth of it, he knew this was their only chance.
At last, "I'm aware, Lorcan," but it was with indifference. "You can drop the formalities now. You sound sour,"
The man named Lorcan seemed like he was going to retort but instead spoke again, this time, straight and more carefully. "If you seek to offer him something in exchange for the Red Paladins, he will take them. But he will not be satisfied. Blackvale never bargains for things that mend… he bargains for things that bind,"
Vaeron couldn't agree less. He knew the Nameless King very well, more than enough to tell their coat of colors. He wasn't called Nameless for no reason.
He will ask for a price that cannot be counted on parchment: a pledge of blood or blood-right, or an oath written in the names of Houses and heirs. He will only bargain his armies to hand over something that, once given, will not be taken back without a man becoming less of himself.
Luckily and unfortunately, he was no man.
That's why he accepted the invitation. Perhaps this time, he'll be the one to offer something he wants but does not yet have.
"And there's more," Lorcan said, walking toward him. "The summons you received was not sent to Dreadwyn alone but your brothers also,"
His back stiffened. "My brothers?"
Lorcan nodded. "But that's not all," he informed. "The Messengers were here two nights ago and brought a message,"
At that, the room seemed to tighten at the mention of the Messengers that even speaking the name seemed to chill the air.
The Messengers? "What message do they bring?" he asked finally, breaking the silence.
"Word that Malachi has invaded the Trinity and is reconstructing the armies of the Dead. A few reports show the recent death happening beyond the Gates. They believe it's his doing."
Vaeron's jaw ticked and his gaze darkened. "I thought he was captured," The frost in his words was enough to slit open the young man's skin.
"He escaped,"
For the first time in the conversation, Vaeron turned fully toward the man. His face was unreadable, neither disbelief nor fear, but something colder, something darker.
"Escaped?" The word held the tone of a raw soulless absurdity. "For how long?"
"Two decades, at the most," Lorcan replied.
He drew in a slow breath. "And why am I just hearing about this?"
Lorcan's brow furrowed, though his tone remained respectful. "Because you left the Vale, Vaeron. You cut ties with the gods—all of us, truth be told, and no word could reach you. You ignored every summons, every council, and every plea while you fought your wars among the werewolf kin. They believed your nonchalance was a sign of forfeitment…"
"Which is why they summoned my brothers," Vaeron completed with a contemptful scoff. "Even the gods lack wisdom,"
The silence seemed to stretch more than before as he walked towards the narrow window, staring out at the day where the clouds had started gathering.
From the look of the weather, one could tell it was going to be a stormy afternoon, as the sea stretched endlessly below in a restless pace.
"There's something you need to be aware of," The hesitation in the man's tone made him pause.
The constant hesitation had begun to tick him and he turned his head slightly, narrowing his eyes at the blonde-haired. "They claim it was not man or god who released him,"
What manner of claim was that? And Vaeron turned in a slow deliberate pace. His eyes hardened to iron when he asked, "Then what? Spirits? Dead?"
It wouldn't surprise him if it were the latter. The Trinity needs much fiercer discipline for those souls. Everyone craved power above everything, including the did.
"An angel,"
The abrupt silence that followed was unsettling. Lorcan moved to the edge of the table where Vaeron stood still in disbelief.
Even the flames seemed to rise higher at the revelation of that absurdity, casting illumination on his features when he spoke. "An Angel?" The disbelief was quiet, dangerous as he repeated.
"They say it wasn't black magic," The tone of his voice gave off utter seriousness, as did the frown on his face. "No living escapes or enters the Trinity. Not unless the gods themselves decide to open the gates and none did. Shockingly, he escaped with the aid of this Angel who builds the army of the Dead alongside him. We cannot track him due to the Angel's presence,"
Something dark flickered in those hazel orbs for a fleeting moment before disappearing in the illumination of the flames from the burning hearth.
An Angel born in the living was absurd, unbelievable to be precise. He had known the stories of the Trinity centuries ago. It was a place of divine confinement where no mortal could trespass, where death itself obeyed the seals. For thousands of years, it stood firm with the grip of darkness, a ground bound between Hell and Earth.
No living crosses part of the Trinity except through the gods. The same one that captured Malachi and imprisoned him for forty thousand years and yet, the impossible had happened.
There was only one Angel who had ever approached the gates of the Trinity a hundred thousand years ago, but even it perished before trespassing. An Angel born among the living and allied with darkness wasn't just alarming— it was a calamity that defied all law, reason, and expectation, a being capable of reshaping the balance of life and death itself. Its existence shattered centuries of certainty, and its power promised devastation the world had never witnessed.
He knew the complications if this were to be true, and the disaster it would cause. Vaeron closed the distance, moving like a predator in search of his prey.
His eyes hardened like steel and his voice cut like ice when he spoke. "Are you certain about what you're telling me, Lorcan?
"Aye. And worse, this Angel… abused, shaped by suffering, yet its power surpasses anything we have witnessed in centuries, remains in his custody. An Angel among the living, corrupted into a force of war and death…" he explained. "The source of extraction of light can eliminate the chain of darkness. Both the living and the dead possess this ability to walk on the source but light can. The Walkers presumed this theory but only one is a witness,"
He ended in a breathless pause, passing him a look that the cold creature acknowledged when his eyes darkened.
He knew who it was. "Number four," It was like a curse, and death at the same time. It didn't surprise him much, but the thought and idea of this almost made him scorch in rage.
"She figured it out faster than anyone. We both know how desperate she's become. Trolling the path to the Realm is an obstinacy she could never relent. She was born with the aim and that aim follows you now,"
He scoffed before turning. His mind turned through unspoken gears as he began to pace again. "No wonder she's been pestering me,"
"Fair enough to think she has been pressuring you, Vaeron," Lorcan corrected.
He knew that also. She was still waiting for the perfect timing to appear, a time when one mistake could lead to another punishment. Yet so far, he has avoided them all, keeping a clear track of himself and obligations.
Suddenly, a flash of ocean-blue eyes occupied his mind for a fleeting second, causing his mask to slip for a short moment.
What was that?
"… and I think they will all be there in gathering. After all, it's the mating ceremony,"
The thought of it elicited a small sound of irritation. A night from now, he'll be marking the little wolf Princess as tradition demands. It was all part of the plan, both in the hands of mortality and the gods.
"Let me guess, they'll want us to find this Angel," That word tasted bitter in his tongue as he said to himself more than the figure in the chamber.
"As it seems,"
An Angel in the Earth's realm wasn't a catastrophe but an alarming future. It wouldn't just destroy the existence of all kinds but possibly theirs too. But then, why would light seek the alliance of darkness?
He had fought necromancers, creatures of shadow, and beings who toyed with life and death, but this… this was something else entirely—something beyond comprehension. The image of a luminous being, twisted into a harbinger of destruction, left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"The Trinity is sealed. It was supposed that no living or dead should be able to pass through its gate. And light can be possessed,"
"The Trinity is not infallible," Vaeron reasoned. "It was designed to contain everything beyond mortal comprehension yet even divine law can be circumvented. Some beings born in suffering learn to wield their pain as power. This Angel reshaped the essence of the Trinity and walked free, as it seemed,"
The torch flames flickered, casting monstrous shadows along the high ceiling when he concluded.
Even Lord Vaeron seemed to feel the weight of the revelation press upon his shoulder coldly and relentlessly.
But the question remained: why would an Angel do this? What does it seek with the alliance of their nemesis? They didn't know if she was truly abused and kept against her will but the possibility of "what if" remained.
Vaeron's expression darkened and the coldness in his gaze turned absolute. His mind raced with thoughts, but the absurdity and prospect made things clearer.
"Abuse breeds defiance. Power breeds ambition, and some Angels see life as ephemeral, death as inevitable. They impose their vision upon the world, and their wrath is swift,"
He said, picturing the army of the Dead, once human, now bound in servitude to a being of divine origin.
The thought churned Lorcan's stomach, stirred fear and fascination in equal measure when he replied, "Perhaps to reshape the world in his accord. Malachi has always desired what he's building. But consider this—what if the Angel isn't his ally, but under him as a captive?"
For a fleeting moment, Lord Vaeron seemed to weigh the knowledge. He thought about it. "That's the business of the gods,"
"As mild as it may seem now, one light can destroy thousands of our world, yet at the same time, its power could reinforce the realm," he said, not for once looking away from the pacing figure. "Mortals are most likely to adjust, but the gods could rot. If Malachi truly holds one of them prisoner, we are all in peril,"
Vaeron's jaw ticked and he flexed his fingers. It was true. "Let them handle it," he said at the end. "After all, they are the higher-ups,"
"They wouldn't have summoned you all if it wasn't that detrimental," Lorcan pressed, attempting reason against Vaeron's dismissiveness. "Battle or not, if you ever want to consider-"
"There's no need," He cut off with a deliberate tone.
Lorcan released a heavy breath of resignation. He was going to speak—argue rather—but nodded instead. "Then you must find the Angel. Only your sin can lead you there. You need it as much as they do."
Lord Vaeron said nothing. He knew that already.
"I only hope you know what you're doing. Especially regarding the werewolf Princess," he passed him a knowing look. "Do you really consider bringing her along? Apart from the mating ceremony?"
Lord Vaeron didn't reply immediately and stared into the internal flames from the hearth. Not because he didn't know what to say, but because of the truth of his words.
He knew it would break her, and he would love to see how much defiance she could wield, and how much longer she could survive along with the others.