Selina nodded as she went first this time, pushing against the surface as the door crept open. Yet, they hadn’t come across a creaky hinge that would dash any hopes of remaining incognito. She poked her head around, narrowing her eyes as she noted the dark, imbued tapestries that hung down from the high ceiling of the room. There were apothecary stations with vials and beakers, containing various coloured liquids—reds, greens, and oranges. She came inside as she panned around, inspecting the square-shaped quarter, which had a pile of black-covered books in the corner. Selina made her way over to them, eager to gain an understanding of what the books contained.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Elyna whispered from a few paces away.

  ‘I want to see what these books are,’ Selina replied.

  ‘You do not know what they could contain.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Elyna rolled her eyes from beneath her hood and mask, realising she could not stop her ever-keen search for answers. Selina brushed the dust that had wrapped around the top book. The dust stuck to her hand as she gently brushed it from her other hand before inspecting the black leather book, which bore the three demonic apparitions of Naldenveer alongside the tombstones, their insignia. Woven into the leather, sticking out three-dimensionally. She pulled back the cover, revealing the inside page, which read, Poisoning the Peninsula. No listed author was shown in this book, unsurprising given the demonic nature of the council, yet she was certain they had scribes for their plans. Devotees of the death cult. Selina flicked her fingers through the pages, scanning with intriguing eyes until she found a passage: “Poison is cast into the consciousness, a dark creation consuming and destroying the docile mind. Those who are without the will to stand against us. The self-server sees and believes themselves to be intelligent, but we curate their routine and arbitrate the direction their life shall go. We studied human beings, experimenting upon them, challenging their pain threshold and breaking their defensive barriers. Until they submitted their wills. They fight for us when they fight amongst themselves; creating division is pivotal to our dominion. We do not separate from our aligned cause, while they deliberate and attempt to rise as individual heroes—a simple effect. Having control is a half-truth, and with every breath our plot deepens. Unseen, the shadowy hand of Naldenveer poisons the peninsula, keeping Osela’s light at bay. Tyrora will bend its will to ours. For time cannot stop the immortal. Known history is a fraction of the truth.”

  Selina’s eyes widened, her thoughts racing, before Elyna tapped her on the shoulder. ‘We must go.’ She began moving towards the other side of the room where the apothecary tables sat. Among the luminous coloured vials, there were jars with eyes, fingers, and internal organs. What dark magic experiments did they conduct? A question that would remain unknown unless privy to such practices. Elyna had her eyes set on the grated doorway in the corner, emblazoned with skulls that were grooved and ridged. She pulled it open as a clicking noise reverberated loudly, muttering a profanity under her breath. Behind, a flight of stone steps. Elyna ascended the steps, guided by the firelit torches that hung from the walls. At the top of another corridor, as she rolled her eyes, this place was a maze, but there was no turning back. She crept past the burning braziers, which gave off a warm, searing heat, turned left, and as she did, she heard footsteps from behind. They both rushed into the room. Inside, the room sat a large cubic table, dark and eerie with serrated edges. There were black and white tapestries with skulls and demonic heads as they looked for somewhere to hide, but there was nowhere except under the table, as they crawled under, pushing their backs up against the holding pillar in the centre, which held its weight. They listened as the door opened. Their hearts began pounding as they exchanged a concerned glance, squeezing their legs tight towards their breasts as they saw two orange robes trailing on the floor alongside someone wearing black leg guards.

  ‘They continue to fight their way through the town,’ a low voice said.

  ‘Just as we suspected they would, General Cadoc.’

  ‘Councillor Veru, where is the council?’ Cadoc asked.

  ‘They rest… waiting for the brothers and knights to reach Dejero-Obitus. They have brought the heir to the throne of Shiel’Dura as well,’ Councillor Veru stated.

  ‘King Drusus and Queen Melantha will breathe easier,’ Cadoc replied.

  ‘They are weaklings; they bow to the will of Naldenveer,’ a deep voice said.

  ‘Councillor Natal, your disdain of the illegitimate is palpable,’ Veru remarked.

  ‘They would be nothing without Naldenveer’s will. The sooner we can break and merge the legitimates, the more our power and influence will grow. The knights must be defeated, for they will not give up on their mission.’

  ‘They will be. But they have shown resolve in defeating Nal and Akass. The one guided by the wolf appears problematic,’ Cadoc countered.

  ‘Knight Minfred. Inquisitor Askel warned us of his abilities.’ Councillor Veru paused. ‘But Seltookra killed two brothers and a third if we count the Demonslayer.’

  ‘How was the Demonslayer killed?’ Natal enquired.

  ‘He was stunned from the explosion and kicked into the mine shaft, falling to his death,’ Cadoc reassured.

  Natal grinned. ‘Then we have a lot to smile about.’

  Elyna and Selina looked toward each other; both of their hearts sank at the revelation. For different reasons, Elyna knew Seltookra were close, closing in on her, while Selina’s devastation stemmed from the three dead brothers; part of her couldn’t believe it and didn’t want to believe it.

  ‘And is Elsbeth still under lock and key?’ Natal asked.

  ‘At the summit of the tower she remains, and for good reason. We must make it as difficult as possible for the knights,’ Veru replied.

  ‘They are valuable souls, ones we wish to hijack, take what they know, and destroy.’

  ‘And the chosen one?’ Cadoc asked.

  ‘We continue to break him by destroying all he cares for. Just like High Elder Gilmat long ago.’ Veru smirked.

  ‘Now, gentlemen, I propose a toast. Let me pour each of you a glass of this Elber wine,’ Natal said.

  Elyna and Selina, motionless beneath the table, heard the glasses clinking and the wine bottle popping as someone gently poured wine.

  ‘To the Council of Naldenveer and the reawakening of the Sertushador. Shaldorahuran pried open.’

  ‘Have the Sertushador surfaced?’ Cadoc probed.

  ‘Not yet, but be patient; they will in due course, and when they do… havoc will be unleashed.’ Natal smirked. ‘Now, excuse me. I must seek the council. We must prepare ourselves for the brothers and knights. Death comes.’

  They simultaneously shuddered beneath the table as the men clinked their glasses before taking their leave. Elyna listened expertly, making absolutely certain they had left the vicinity before crawling out from under the cramped quarters of the table as she stretched out her neck, back, and legs. Her right knee clicked unceremoniously.

  ‘We have to ascend this tower as soon as possible,’ Elyna urged.

  ‘But what about the Brotherhood and the knights?’

  ‘Not our concern until we have Elsbeth with us. If we time it right, we might get an escort out of this horrific place.’

  ‘The things they were saying… I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Selina, the longer I’m around this type of stuff, the more out of balance I feel with reality. It is as though our entire lives are a sick historical lie, which we end up repeating generation after generation.’

  ‘Agreed. Everything we uncover complexifies what we think we know.’

  Luckily, the men had exited the way they came, clearing the way for them to enter the black door across the room, which led to another set of stone stairs, which they hurdled upward, moving with pace, sensing they were nearing the summit. As they reached the black stone landing, they peered ahead at two black armour-clad mercenaries who were guarding an iron spiral staircase in the centre of a circular-shaped room, which had horrific tables with chains and bindings alongside selections of knives, no doubt used to torture helpless victims. The room had a dull light emanating from it, but there was no immediate vision of what was sourcing the light as Elyna began creeping around one side of the room, motioning for Selina to go around the other way. Elyna moved like a ghost, weaving under the tables as she saw the bloodied stains that had crusted into the stone floor. A rotting odour loomed as she brought her gloved hand against her face briefly before taking position behind where the guards were posted as she waited for Selina to get into position. They had a tactical advantage over the two guards, who were tall, muscular, and dual-wielded scimitars, but none of this would come into play. For the assassin is the unseen mechanism, drifting between things, touching from the shadows; no target can stop the well-placed dirk. She motioned forward with her left hand, her index finger pointing to the ceiling as Elyna and Selina synchronistically descended on the two targets, unsheathing one dirk each from their belts as they approached with masterful silence. Elyna had trained all her life, but Selina had learnt the subtle steps of stealth within months. She got behind her target as did Selina, the pair arose from the crouched position, making no eye contact with the target. Everything done peripherally, eyeing or staring at a target too much, created a conscious link, alerting the target to a possible presence, where they would look around and turn from a stationary target to a moving one.

  Elyna, with her right hand clasping her dirk, drove it into the neck as the guard dropped to the floor. The timing had been perfect as both guards fell, gurgling helplessly as they stood above, exchanging a singular glance before ascending the spire with quick feet. If anyone reached this floor, they would expose the assassins. Time dripping, the essence surging, they propelled upward, adrenaline coursing through their veins. They craned their necks upward, spinning around and around.

  Leading them onto a black stone landing, as a man and a woman, both royally dressed in black and white silks, sat together at the head of a long table, which had bowls of fruit and bottles of wine and whisky. Elyna and Selina froze, realising they were being watched.

  ‘We’ve been expecting you,’ the man with dark-circled eyes said.

  ‘And you are?’ Elyna questioned.

  ‘I am King Drusus, and this is my wife, Queen Melantha.’

  Queen Melantha held an angry, pointed look, her face and eyes shadowed with darkness, matching her long black hair, which was neatly tied up with a gold hair band as she spoke, ‘And you must be… Elyna. However, we are unfamiliar with your acquaintance. Do you care to introduce yourself?’

  Selina wisely held her tongue.

  Elyna walked towards the pair thirty paces away. In her mind, she was closing the distance to prepare for their assassination, but something wasn’t right. She could feel a spiritual struggle take place as though she were walking into the great unknown. She did wonder if the power at the peak of the tower had elevated or if a trap was being set. Though her instincts led her to believe the king and queen were intoxicated by power, failing to realise the reality of the false self. The Council of Naldenveer, no doubt, weakened their resolve, giving them enough breadcrumbs to grant the perception of power. This fatal mistake was not specific to these two drained souls; it was a well-used abuse mechanism to bring the will of another under control. A vile act. Queen Melantha had a smug, self-assured demeanour that was off-putting, while King Drusus conspired with dark intent. She edged closer to one side of the table as Selina walked in alignment on the other until they got within ten paces of the pair who remained seated.

  ‘That’s far enough,’ Queen Melantha stated.

  They stopped, deciding to caution their approach. Sizing up the king and queen.

  ‘How do you know who I am?’

  ‘We have many allies. See, we’re no different from you. Roped into things we cannot escape, and we know you have come for the girl. She’s so powerful and pretty, but all we have sought to do is keep her safe. Whatever you have been told about us is a lie,’ Queen Melantha expressed.

  ‘Melantha is correct. We have had no choice, trying to keep the House of Shiel’Dura alive. We cared for Jerome, raising him as our own.’

  ‘Then why do you sit within Dejero-Obitus and converse with the Council of Naldenveer?’

  ‘We rule the House of Shiel’Dura, so the answer should be obvious… Yet it seems you know little… disappointing,’ King Drusus said with contempt.

  Selina broke her silence. ‘It seems you cannot honestly answer for your crimes.’

  Queen Melantha smirked. ‘The unknown speaks; her soul beckons behind her blue eyes.’

  She felt somewhat exposed, as though a sinister force was inspecting her.

  ‘What are these crimes?’ King Drusus demanded.

  ‘You both usurp the throne of Shiel’Dura and amalgamate the power of Jerome and Elsbeth,’ Selina asserted.

  ‘Clever. Do you come bearing gifts?’ Queen Melantha remarked.

  ‘Excuse me.’

  ‘Don’t talk to your queen with that tone,’ Melantha snapped.

  ‘You are neither king nor queen. Even the council members cannot stand you; they want rid of you,’ Elyna asserted.

  ‘Liar!’ Queen Melantha snarled as she stood up from her chair, staring a deathly glare towards the pair, her head motioning from side to side. In an odd sense, she appeared consumed by her own falsified image, not being upheld by the assassins. The ways an immature mind lusts for power, demands attention, and all the while, gives nothing in return. Such a peculiar concept. Dangerous as hell. King Drusus got to his feet, his black silk shirt hanging around his broad shoulders, his breathing accelerated as though he was churning with rage.

  ‘The dark power you converse with has driven you mad.’

  ‘Not yet…’ King Drusus’s eyes glowed orange for a split second before returning to cauldron black.

  ‘You will both learn to respect your king and queen!’ Melantha hissed.

  ‘So be it.’

  Elyna and Selina neared the pair as Queen Melantha let out a deafening, spectral scream that moved through their bones and spirit. They exchanged a glance, realising the whole of Dejero-Obitus was most likely alerted to their presence, such was the power of the scream. They would have to act swiftly, and in truth, these two were a deluded pairing, older than time, the classic false pairing, the enmeshment of darkness. King Drusus drew a black iron cudgel that had been anchored around his waist. Smiling in a sinister manner as Queen Melantha flicked out two gleaming silver daggers from her silk cuffs.

  Elyna lunged forward at Drusus, who swung heavy with the cudgel, attempting to maim her with a concussive shot, narrowly weaving her head out of the way. While Melantha went on the offensive against Selina, swiping side to side with the daggers as Selina read the attack expertly before ducking under and leg sweeping Melantha, who clattered to the floor. Selina did not hesitate in slashing the blade against Melantha’s throat as the blood spurted out. A quick and ruthless kill against a crazed foe. Though, what did anyone expect? Melantha's idealised form had shattered in a fraction of a second; her head had no doubt written a heroic story of her taking down an assassin, yet reality had collapsed with a swift cut, no less.

  Meanwhile, Elyna continued to frustrate Drusus, biding her time as he slowed down, taking a deep inhalation. She pivoted off her left lead foot, swinging herself onto his back as she grabbed onto his shoulders before slashing the yellow sapphire blade across his neck. Drusus fell forward, releasing the cudgel, clutching his neck as he lay on his front, and a pool of blood flowed onto the stone floor.

  ‘We’ve got to move,’ Elyna ordered.

  Selina nodded as the pair took off towards the brown wooden ladder at the back of the room that lay beyond the table. Elyna began climbing, rushing upward towards a black trapdoor as fast as her hands and feet could go. Who knew what horrors might close in on them after Queen Melantha’s unshackled scream that had pried at their souls. The illegitimate king and queen lay dead below; the assassins had upheld one half of their promise, following in the footsteps of countless women and men who had taken matters into their own hands to remove and destabilise what no longer served the best interests of the people. Revolt is a necessary response to evil. For now, the House of Shiel’Dura was in flux, awaiting the rightful heirs.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ah, finite sand of time

  creates and opens the gate

  a key of mysteries

  but, which one?

  Keeper of the Keys

  The Mystery Wheels

  Lachlann lay on his back in complete darkness, bound to a body of pain. How far had he fallen? Nothing felt broken except his spirit, entangled in the depths of his demon blood. Was that his power and curse? To bear the unbearable. To walk and experience immeasurable pain. How much had he already sacrificed? And what further sacrifices would he be required to make while known and unknown enemies plotted his demise?

  He sat up, letting out a prolonged groan as he stretched upward, as various pieces of wreckage from the mine shaft appeared to move beneath him, falling off to the side. In front, he breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the green glow emanating from his claymore. He pushed his hands onto the unseen wreckage as things moved underneath him, as he unsteadily got to his feet. What was he standing on? There were piles of it. As he made his way over to his claymore, the green glow gave Lachlann an insight into what he had been lying on—skulls and bones, potentially thousands of them. He grabbed his weapon, his heart pounding, using it as a dim light to inspect three paces all around him.

  This was a grave of bones.

  Death didn’t unsettle him; it was the unknown history of Ophlen he felt certain he stood within. It appeared Lachlann had fallen below the mine into an underground area, long forgotten, a dark secret kept from civilisation, which continued to live out its meagre life above the forgotten past. Perhaps the historians told the truth, but conversely, how would they truly know? Experience is in the witness, not the carefully placed artefacts and books doctored to create a narrative, so no questions are asked because an answer has already been written. He could feel the ominous air circulating in what he believed to be an expansive room, but he couldn’t verify that unless he had more light. He moved over the skulls and bones, which slid beneath his feet, further into the darkness. With every pace, he realised the scale of the slaughter that had taken so many lives, a bottomless pit of skeleton parts, different shapes and sizes, but human, nonetheless.