Chapter 8 – First Night in Karathar
The first night in Karathar was too quiet.
Nyxarion donned the black uniform with the silver Veyll crest, laced the reinforced boots, and stepped into the courtyard as though he had belonged there for years.
No one questioned it.
Collective memory had already been rewritten.
When the great tower bell struck midnight, he climbed silently to the roof of the auction warehouse.
The entire city lay spread beneath him: flickering lanterns, looming towers, the red pulse of forges that never slept.
He closed his eyes.
A thin wave of darkness rolled out from him, a whisper of black smoke that spread through streets, alleys, noble mansions, and slums alike.
The same trick he had used in the courtyard, now scaled to swallow a city.
And he felt it.
A tug.
A distant, unmistakable echo.
One fragment of his soul was here.
Close.
Painfully close.
Yet the wave returned without precision.
Only the bitter taste of proximity, like smelling blood without seeing the wound.
Lucas, curiosity razor-sharp:
Did you find it?
"Not yet," Nyxarion answered, voice low against the cold night wind.
"It is sealed inside an object. Something small. Something that will be sold at auction.
My strength is still… insufficient.
I need to be closer. Or stronger."
How long?
"Four days.
The Veyll house's grand auction is four nights from now.
The fragment will be on the main stage, under lights, in front of everyone."
Lucas let out a mental whistle.
Four days to plan the perfect theft.
Or to scrape together enough coin to buy it outright.
Nyxarion opened his eyes. From this height the city looked small enough to crush in one fist.
"Stealing would be faster," he said.
"But leaving traces now would be foolish.
Buying is cleaner… if the price isn't obscene.
Or we do both: discover the winning bid in advance and rig the auctioneer."
He dropped from the roof in perfect silence, landing in the empty courtyard without a sound.
Lucas was already thinking aloud:
What if the object is warded? Runes? Containment spells?
"Possible.
But any ward made by mortals is still mortal.
Four days is enough to probe, map, and dismantle."
Nyxarion walked to the internal notice board.
A freshly pinned parchment announced in elegant script:
EXTRAORDINARY AUCTION – 4th FULL MOON
Rare items, relics, magical curiosities, and unique pieces.
Entry: 50 gold crowns – invited bidders and accredited buyers only.
He read in silence.
Lucas murmured:
Four days.
The perfect window to turn everything around.
"The perfect window to set the board," Nyxarion corrected.
"Tomorrow I start with the item list.
Then the bidders.
Then the auctioneer.
On the fourth night… the fragment comes home."
He returned to the guards' dormitory and lay on the hard cot as though it were a throne.
Lucas, half-drowsy:
You know… four days is also enough time for me to negotiate a few hours of body control.
Like, at night. When you don't need to be on full alert.
Nyxarion closed his eyes.
"Keep dreaming, passenger.
Perhaps when I am whole again.
For now, four days is all we have.
And all we need."
Moonlight slipped through the barred window.
Karathar slept.
But inside that black uniform, the Eternal Abyss was already counting minutes.
**End of Chapter 8**