The westward road stretched long and uneven, carved into the hills that sloped toward the distant mountains. Morning had fully bloomed now, but the sky was overcast, the light diffused in a way that left the air feeling heavy.
Yittann barely moved. Though he sat upright with Carli's help, his head remained down, his fingers curled loosely into the fabric of his cloak. His breathing was steady but shallow, as if each inhale took effort.
Oda twisted in his saddle, flashing a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "So, what's the plan? March in, dump the vampire princeling at the Council's feet, and pray they don't stake him before breakfast?"
Myhra's glare could have flayed flesh. A deliberate glance at Yittann—be mindful of the child listening. "We're not delivering him. We're vouching for him."
Carli tightened her grip on the reins. "The Silver Council doesn't take in strays. They'll interrogate him first. Then us."
A faint tremor rippled through Yittann's shoulders.
Oda whistled. "Apologies, my lady! I'm sure Commander Myhra can sweet-talk them. Make it… gentler for the kid."
"Gentle?" Myhra's voice was a blade. "That's why we need leverage." Her gaze locked onto Carli. "Your brother works for the Baroness. Talen can be trusted, doesn't he?"
Carli's laugh was dry as bone. "About as much as a wolf trusts an open cage."
Oda's eyes flicked to her fiery hair, glowing like embers under the sun. "Truly reassuring, Lady Red."
Both women ignored him.
Carli's voice hardened. "Talen has influence, but he doesn't decide alone. If the Council sees Yittann as a threat, word won't matter."
"Then we give them a reason to see him as an asset," Myhra countered.
Oda perked up. "Ah, the Baroness—now there's a viper in silk. Rumor says she funds that orphanage near the square. Funny how none of those children ever… age."
A beat of silence. Even Yittann's breath stilled.
Myhra's voice dropped to a whisper. "You think the Council knows?"
Carli's jaw clenched. "If they do, we're walking into a nest of knives. But the orphanage isn't our concern—the Baroness is."
"Why?" Oda leaned in.
"Because," Carli said slowly, "of the 'guests' she hosts. Some seek Council business. Others arrive in hearses pulled by wraiths—and never leave."
Myhra's fingers twitched toward her dagger. "You're joking."
"Wish I were." Carli's gaze slid to Yittann. "She shelters the unnatural until the Council decides their fate. For a price. And its said that most leave in casket for losing favours."
"Then we'll make them decide in our favor," Myhra said coldly.
Yittann lifted his head, gold eyes glinting. "And if they refuse?"
The silence stretched, brittle as ice.
Myhra exhaled. "Then we remind the Council that vampires can be useful."
Carli arched a brow. "Your 'reminders' usually end with someone screaming. Or you lighting fires under their politics."
"Only for those who deserve it." A ghost of a smirk. "And the fire's already there. We just… redirect it."
Oda, ever the optimist, grinned. "Well, as long as you're the one pissing off nobles instead of me, I'll happily take a hot meal and a soft bed first."
Carli rolled her eyes. "You'll be lucky if they don't toss you in a cell for that mouth of yours."
As they rode on, the air grew colder, the dirt path giving way to jagged rock. The Silver Council's stronghold loomed beyond the mountains—a gilded cage of secrets.
And inside it, either salvation awaited… or a war none of them were ready to fight.Or a whole new kind of trouble.
Atashborn, Baroness's Manor:
The streets of Atashbon should have been empty at this hour.
They were not.
A procession moved through the fog—a silent parade of figures draped in burial shrouds, their bare feet soundless on the cobblestones. At their center, a black-lacquered hearse rolled forward, drawn not by horses, but by four skeletal wraiths, their hollow eyes burning with witchlight. The scent of grave soil and extinguished candles clung to the air.
Oda's hand went to his sword. "Well. That's not ominous at all. Had someone died?"
Myhra stepped in front of Yittann, her body a shield. "Don't move. Don't speak."
The shrouded figures paid them no mind as they passed, their gait unnaturally smooth, as if pulled by invisible strings. Then—a shift. The hearse slowed. Stopped.
The back panel creaked open.
From within the darkness, a voice, honeyed and terrible, called out: "Commander Myhra. What a pleasure to see you again."
The Baroness leaned forward, her face a pale moon in the hearse's shadows. Her smile was a knife wound. "I do hope the Council gave you what you wanted." Her gaze slid to Yittann. "Before they change their minds."
Carli's fingers twitched toward her hidden dagger. "Are you leaving, Baroness"
"Of course I am. Visiting my children at neightnour and then council work." The Baroness's laughter was the sound of icicles breaking.
Myhra gave her nod. "Very well, then. We won't take your time." It was then Yittann poked his head out to see the hollow eyes of the dead horses. The Baroness instantly saw the child.
"Commandar Myhra, I'm always egar to help, you do know my charity for childrens—my doors are always open. Especially to those the Council might… misplace."
Myhra gave her a tight smile. "Of course, I'm aware. But then excuse me, I'm exhausted and would like to talk when you're in no rush."
THe Baroness laugh knowing well, she was hushing her off. "Very well. We'll meet again."
The hearse's door shut with a final click. The wraiths lurched forward, and the procession melted back into the fog, leaving only the echo of the Baroness's warning hanging in the air.
Yittann exhaled, his breath unsteady. "She knows."
Carli's jaw tightened. "She always knows."
Oda cracked his knuckles. "So. Who's betting that 'orphanage' of hers is just a larder?"
No one answered.
The manor awaited them, its windows glowing like watchful eyes—a sprawling edifice of black stone veined with silver, its spires clawing at the twilight sky. The iron gates groaned open before them, as if reluctant to admit visitors.
Oda whistled low. "Friendly place. Bet the maids here all have fangs."
Myhra ignored him, her eyes scanning the shadowed windows. "Stay sharp. Every servant here is a spy, every courtesy a test."
A steward in immaculate gray livery awaited them at the entrance, his smile polished and empty. "Commander Myhra. Your rooms are prepared. The Baroness… would see you at dinner personally. "
"How convenient," Carli muttered.
Yittann hovered close to Myhra, his gold eyes darting over the manor's ornate carvings—each one depicting wolves with too many teeth.
Their quarters were lavish but cold, the fireplaces lit yet offering no warmth. The baths were drawn, steam curling like phantom fingers over the water's surface. Myhra had the biggest and lavish room on the top floor among them all for being the Commandar. Oda and Carli's room below two floor to Myhra. Whereas Yittann had to stick with Carli as they had told they found the boy stranded.
Oda stretched, cracking his neck. "Well, if we're gonna die tomorrow, at least we'll die clean."
All had taken a thourgh bath
The dining hall was a masterpiece of intimidation—long tables laden with food, yet every seat positioned to leave guests exposed.
The Baroness was absent, but her presence clung to the room like perfume.
Oda stabbed a slice of spiced pear, sniffing it. "You think it's poisoned?"
"Only if you're important enough," Carli said, reaching for the bread.