Chapter 5 – Whispers in the Rain
The streets of Durelin glistened under a thin sheet of rain, every cobblestone reflecting the dull orange glow of the guttering street lamps. The curfew bells had rung hours ago, but Lucian still moved through the narrow back alleys, hood drawn low, the sound of water dripping from slate roofs masking his steps.
He was headed for the east gate — not the grand archway where travelers and traders entered by day, but the narrow service arch half-hidden by weathered masonry. Tonight, it would be his meeting place.
Kairon was already there, leaning casually against the gate's shadowed wall, his cloak blending into the night. The man's eyes caught the lamplight, sharp and assessing.
"You weren't followed," Kairon said, not bothering to ask.
Lucian shook his head. "You said you had something for me."
"Not here." Kairon's voice was low, clipped. He turned and led Lucian along the wall, past stacks of rain-slick crates, until they stopped before a rusted iron grate set into the street. He lifted it with practiced ease, revealing a stair spiraling down into the dark.
The air below was colder, thick with the scent of damp stone and something older — smoke, perhaps, or dust from a place long abandoned. The narrow stair opened into a tunnel lit by the occasional torch.
They followed the twisting path until it widened into a chamber where a dozen figures waited in silence. Faces half-covered with masks of leather and cloth. Eyes watching.
A woman stepped forward, her presence commanding even in the dim light. She was tall, with streaks of silver through her black hair, and a black strip of cloth tied around her upper arm.
"You bring us an untested man, Kairon?" she asked.
"He's not untested," Kairon replied. "And he wants what we want."
Lucian met her gaze without flinching. "If you're the ones striking at the Church… I'll stand with you."
She studied him for a long moment, then gave a small, dangerous smile.
"Then welcome," she said. "To the Ashen Veil."