In a hidden underground chamber used for attending secret meetings, only those who have pre-marked invitations could enter and leave with their life intact.
Nobles from across the continent filled the hall—200 nobles in noble attires, their faces hidden by silver or gold masks, and 500 silent cult soldiers, wearing emotionless full-face masks. They stood along the walls, bound by oaths to never speak.
At the hall’s heart, there’s a towering throne, it looks divine, carved with symbols.
Whispers travel through the crowd.
"Is it true? The Ruler’s Prophecy appeared?"
"They swore the Goddess would return safely..."
The murmurs grew tense and uncertain, until a masked soldier’s voice boomed, cutting through the noise. "Esteemed faithful, our Lord, the High Priest, has arrived!"
All eyes turned to the aisle. Soldiers lining the path dropped to one knee, laying their swords flat and pressing a hand to the ground in reverence. The crowd stiffened, their breaths catching as the High Priest appeared.
Ashen, his long, ashen-gray hair flowing like liquid moonlight, gilded forward in a pristine white robe, it has wide sleeves and high collar. His sharp, almost androgynous features and pale, ageless skin gave him an otherworldly beauty.
His presence was a weight, his energy alien, commanding silence as he moved with deliberate grace. Behind him followed three figures, each exuding their own energy.
Erisval, the Pillar of Chaos, was tall and slim, his movements sharp.
Nehzareth, the Pillar of Void, was a hulking giant, his steps heavy.
Velkara, the Pillar of Decay, was a hauntingly beautiful woman, her eyes glinting with quiet menace.
Ashen reached the throne and settled onto it with the elegance of a monarch, the three Pillars taking their places beside him like sentinels.
"Praise the Silent Goddess," Ashen declared, raising a hand.
"Praise the Silent Goddess," the crowd echoed, their arms lifting in unison.
Ashen leaned back, resting an elbow on the armrest and placing his head on his hand. His voice was smooth, almost bored. "State your reason, why was I summoned so urgently?"
Velkara stepped forward, her movements smooth as she bowed deeply, her tone formal. "Our noble benefactors grow restless, my lord. Rumors of our failed attempt to assassinate the Ruler’s Prophecy have spread. Even our soldiers doubt our cause."
Ashen’s unreadable eyes fixed on her. "Assassination of the Ruler’s Prophecy?" His voice sharpened. "Who ordered this?"
An old man, trembling, stepped forward from the crowd. His staff clattered to the ground as he dropped to his knees, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the stone. "It was me, my lord," he stammered, his voice shaking. "When we received intel about the Ruler, I ordered the mission to eliminate him."
Velkara’s voice remained steady. "The mission used a hunting cage, to make it as a terrorist activity. It failed. We lost two soldiers, one was captured, and... the divine subject was accidentally trapped in the cage. By the Goddess’s grace, the subject survived."
Ashen’s lips curled into a faint, chilling smile. "So, we nearly exposed our existence, risked our spy in the academy, and almost lost our divine subject?"
Nehzareth, the giant, steps forward, his voice slow and childlike, yet terrifying. "Should I eat him, lord?"
The old man flinched, still bowed, his body shaking. Ashen chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver through the hall. He rose from his throne, raising a hand to halt Nehzareth. With a graceful step, he approached the old man, leaning down and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Stand," he said, his smile disarmingly warm. The old man rose, trembling, his eyes wide with fear.
"Please, Lord Priest," the old man pleaded, his voice breaking. "Forgive me. I committed the worst sin. Please... have mercy."
Ashen’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes glinted with something far darker, as the hall held its breath, awaiting his judgment.
Ashen’s smile was warm, almost brotherly, as he slung an arm around the old man’s neck, his voice carrying across the hall. "Oh, don’t be scared, old man," he said loudly, ensuring every noble and soldier heard.
"Who am I to forgive you? I’m just a man, like you. I don’t have the right to judge." His eyes swept over the gathered crowd, gleaming with a strange intensity.
He released the old man, turning to face the attendees, his arms spread wide. "My people, followers of the Silent Goddess, we are merely human. Our lives, our fates—they belong to her. Who are we to decide?" He spun back to the old man, his voice soft but chilling. "Your fate rests with the Goddess herself." With a flick, he tossed a small, glinting knife at the old man’s feet.
The old man’s eyes widened, his body moving as if pulled by invisible strings. Like a puppet under a cruel master’s control, he snatched the knife and slashed it across his own throat. Blood sprayed.
Some nobles flinched, others covered their eyes, trembling at the gruesome sight. The old man collapsed, his blood pooling, creeping toward Ashen’s feet.
Ashen sighed, stepping back. "Nehzareth, clean this mess," he muttered, striding toward his throne. The giant Pillar of Void lumbered forward, scooping up the body and swallowing it whole in one grotesque gulp. The crowd recoiled, disgust surging through them.
Ashen slumped onto his throne, his voice low as he muttered. "I’ve built this order for decades, and one fool nearly burns it to ashes?"
"Is there anyone who doubts me?" His shout shook the hall.
He leaned forward, eyes blazing. "The Ruler’s Prophecy is our greatest threat, our sole purpose to destroy him. Do you think I’ve been idle, arms folded, while everything happens?" He slammed his fist on the armrest, the sound like thunder. "I’ve made plans for centuries! The Silent Goddess guides us, and we will end him."
He leaned back, closing his eyes, his voice softening. "Any doubts?" The hall was deathly silent, not a whisper. "If none, leave."
The attendees bowed, chanting, "Praise the Silent Goddess," and walking out, their footsteps echoing in the vast chamber.
Ashen remained still, eyes shut, lost in thought. Erisval approached, his voice low. "What do we do about the Ruler now?"
Ashen raised a finger, signaling silence. "Shh." His eyes opened slowly, looking at the departing crowd. For a moment, his eyes caught a golden mask, its wearer staring back with a knowing glint.
His eyes widened, but the figure vanished. Ashen smirked, a spark of amusement in his expression.
In the crowd, a woman in a hooded cloak slipped through the crowd, pulling off her golden mask to reveal Erin Dranemount, her violet eyes sparkling with excitement.
Ashen muttered with a smile, "When the day of ruin is upon us, and the tides of Chaos drown the land, the hearts of men shall falter, their cries swallowed by the darkness."
"Yet from the abyss shall a light be born, a flame unwavering amidst the storm." She murmured in response, slipping her mask back on. "It shall call forth the Ruler, whose will is bound to destiny."
Back at the Prison Cell
Leo stood amid the carnage of the exploded cell, blood and flesh smeared across the walls.
His mind was filled by words from Leonhardt’s mother.
"With fear as sword, with sorrow as shield, the Ruler shall stand above the ruin." He muttered. "They shall sever the chains of dread and cast the Destroyer into eternal silence."
His fists clenched, his crimson eyes burning with resolve. "I’ll find you," he whispered, his voice low and fierce. "And I’ll kill you as soon as I can. Because, I’m desperate to end this all."
Back at the Gathering
Ashen’s smirk widened. "Let’s see, Ruler, who survives this game—you or me." He tilted his head, his tone shifting. "Where’s the Pillar of Treachery?"
The hall was empty now, save for the Pillars. Velkara stepped forward, her voice cautious. " He’s been... careless again,my lord.."
Ashen’s eyes narrowed. "Find him. Tell him he has to hunt now."