The evening light filtered through the broken stained glass of the old temple, dyeing the shattered mosaics on the floor crimson. Caelus felt his heart pounding in his chest like a muffled war drum. Beside him, Bia barely breathed, peering through the cracks in the stone wall, eyes wide and lips pressed into a line of silence.
The temple, once consecrated to a long-forgotten god, had long been abandoned by its faithful and left to the mercy of creeping vines and dampness. Now, it was nothing but stone and shadow – and that was what had saved them.
Outside, in the courtyard strewn with leaves and dry earth, figures dressed in black moved, their steps too light for the weight they seemed to carry. Three of them walked as if the world owed them reverence: tall, cloaked in dark robes, their faces obscured by deep hoods. There was an unsettling gravity in their movements, as if each gesture bore an ancient omen.
But it wasn't they who held Caelus's gaze most firmly – it was the woman. She led from the front, like a priestess fallen from the heavens or risen from some ancestral nightmare. Her face was beautiful, but in a cold way, like marble touched by night. Beside her walked a towering creature that Caelus, and all who had the misfortune of meeting him, could only describe as a bear in human form.
– Who… who are they? – Bia whispered, almost without sound, as if even the stones might hear.
Caelus didn't reply. The names – if they had names – were beyond his comprehension in that moment. But something in him, something old and instinctive, recognised the presence of evil. Not a loud evil, like that of a tyrant or a assassin. This was whispered evil, patient, dressed in secrecy. An evil that came from the roots of the world and now walked its surface with slow steps.
– Were you successful, Mariam al-Sahir? – the voice that rose was low but sharp, like a blade kept too long in its sheath. The question carried across the courtyard toward the woman in black, and for a moment, the silence grew even thicker.
The woman stopped. The Bear beside her growled something inaudible, but she raised a hand, and the giant obeyed like a beast tamed by its mistress's iron will.
– Don't use that name again – she said, slowly, each syllable heavy as lead. – I'm done with it. It was a servant's name. A name used among fools and ghosts.
The wind blew through the cracks in the stone, as if the dead themselves whispered in approval. The three figures in black inclined their heads slightly – not out of fear, but reverence.
The man who had spoken – the tallest of the three, his eyes hidden beneath a hood whose shadow seemed to swallow light – bowed his head.
– Forgive me, Eryndra… Knight of the Veil.
The title echoed like the memory of a forgotten name, a murmur drawn from old chants and sealed chambers.
– Have you discovered anything more about the map?
Eryndra looked at him for a long moment. For an instant, Caelus, hidden behind the cracked columns, thought she could hear his thoughts. There was an icy glint in her eyes – not the warmth of a flame, but the distant reflection of a star long dead.
– I've discovered enough – she answered at last. – The map is older than we thought. Far older. And it's incomplete. But not lost.
The words spread like ash on the wind. The shortest of the hooded figures muttered something under his breath – perhaps a forgotten prayer, or simply discontent. But Eryndra continued, unperturbed.
– But unfortunately, that's all I could uncover. I will still discover the location of the heart of the Elder Tree. The prophecy of the Scroll of Dusk and Dawn is not some tavern legend shared among drunkards or the delusion of exiled monks. It lives. And it will be fulfilled.
The man who had spoken before – the one with hidden eyes and a cutting voice – inclined his head slightly.
– And the brute? – he asked. – The creature you bring with you… Who is he?
Eryndra turned. The bear-man remained still, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the horizon as if time itself could not touch him. In his dark armour, marked with runes so old they seemed carved before language, he looked less like a soldier and more like a force of nature dressed for war.
– He is the Bear – Eryndra replied. – And when the time comes, he will lead our forces. Not with speeches, but with steel. Not with promises, but with deaths.
Eryndra fixed her eyes on the man she spoke with, her gaze hard as granite.
– And you, Lucius… – she said, with an almost imperceptible bow of the head, – Prophet of Shadows, reader of ashes and listener of the true gods' echoes… You ask, but you know as well as I that I did not choose the Bear by chance.
Lucius inclined his head slightly, the gesture slow and measured.
– Then the heart of the Tree still eludes us – he murmured, almost with pleasure. – But the branches stretch out all the same.
He turned to the slender figure on his left, cloaked in a mantle that seemed woven of webs and shadow. The hood hid the face, but the gleam of the eyes hinted at a sharp and patient mind, like the point of a needle stitching fates.
– Kaelion – said Lucius. – Are the preparations ready?
Kaelion, the Weaver of Shadows, bowed his head with deliberate slowness.
– Yes. They are gathering in the ruins of Calvolsangre – he replied, his voice as soft as the sound of pages turning. – The circles have been drawn, the names invoked, and the whispers of old pacts remembered. The other Lucius… the Druid… has already purged the place.
From the depths of the temple, where the darkness seemed to have its own thickness, a third voice emerged. It was deeper, more solemn, and spoke like one who had already buried the gods themselves.
– The spirits have been removed – said Druid Lucius, the Prophet of the Eclipse. – Calvolsangre is clean… on the outside.
The way he said 'on the outside' left a thick silence in the air. There were things, even among shadows, that should not be spoken.
– And will they help? – asked the Prophet of Shadows.
The Druid smiled. His face was marked with symbols painted in charcoal, a long beard woven with animal bones, and eyes that seemed to see beyond the present.
– When we march on Ventora… they will come with us – he paused. – The dead remember. And they do not forgive Valeria Ventoforte for the crimes she committed in Calvolsangre.
– She burned the earth and the bodies – Kaelion added, in an almost ceremonial tone. – She thought fire would be enough. But some ashes do not scatter. Some wounds do not close.
Lucius raised his eyes to the sky, now dark as spilled ink. The bells of a distant village echoed, muffled by distance and fear.
– The mission in Ventora is important – said Eryndra slowly, – and the dead have scores to settle. But the main plan takes precedence.
Lucius, the Prophet of Shadows, did not answer immediately. He waited, like someone listening to an oracle.
– The capture of the heart of the Ancient Tree – Eryndra continued – is the first step. Without it, everything else is dust. Shapeless shadows. The world has lost its axis, and the Tree still bleeds. Only its heart can restore balance to Terra Solara.
The words lingered in the air like an enchantment spoken by someone who had repeated it a thousand times. Kaelion said nothing, but bowed slightly in assent.
Eryndra turned back to Lucius, her eyes fixed on him like blades.
– And in Aureliana? How does the mission progress?
Lucius smiled — that cold, almost lipless smile that made the torches seem to flicker on the walls.
– Draven awaits orders – he replied. – The Guardian of Shadows is where he ought to be. He infiltrated the Cult of the Eternal Sun six moons ago. He is gaining the trust of the High Priest, the old fanatic... Solano Igniferro.
The name was spoken with veiled contempt, as if it were a stolen title.
– Each day, Solano trusts him more – Lucius went on. – He invites him into the inner circles, shares visions and interpretations of the Pure Light. Golden idiocy... but effective. Draven is digging with patience.
Eryndra narrowed her eyes.
– And the Gemma Solis?
– It's close. Very close. Draven believes the gem is not in the cathedral chambers, as was suspected, but somewhere in Terra Solara.
Kaelion smiled, or something resembling it.
– The eternal light… – he murmured. – What a beautiful lie to hide a dark secret.
– A lie that will be our weapon – said Lucius, turning back to Eryndra.
– If the Gemma Solis falls into our hands, those who worship the Sun will learn to fear the shadow.
Eryndra nodded slowly.
– First the heart... then the gem. One to restore. The other to destroy. The balance has long tilted the wrong way. It is almost time to tip it back.
Caelus and Bia, still hidden, barely dared to breathe. What they were hearing was not just conspiracy. It was something greater. Something that promised to shake the very foundations of the world.
– What you've reported is very good news – Eryndra's eyes swept across the faces hidden beneath the hoods. – And in Calvolsangre? How many believers have gathered?
Kaelion, the Weaver of Shadows, leaned slightly forward. His cloak fluttered like a nest of broken threads.
– Six thousand – he said. – More or less. Some are true believers. Others... followed the scent of fear and promise.
He paused, as if weighing the weight of his own words.
– It's not many, Eryndra. But more will come. Faith grows where hope dies, and we are masters at burying hope. And if need be, we will call upon the gifts of Noctis.
Upon hearing the name of the dark goddess, the Bear moved for the first time. He did not speak. Only a low, guttural growl escaped his throat, as if the name had awakened something best left asleep.
Lucius, the Prophet of Shadows, watched in silence, but his eyes glinted beneath the hood like wet blades.
Eryndra folded her arms across her chest and nodded slowly.
– To use Noctis to recruit souls... is not ideal. But it shall be done, if necessary. The old world demands sacrifices... and so does the new one.
She looked again at the three before her.
– Is there anything else to report?
Lucius raised a finger, only to indicate silence. Kaelion shook his head slightly. The Druid remained still, eyes closed, as if listening to a song the others could not hear. None of them spoke.
– Then it is decided – Eryndra declared. – I, the Bear, and an escort of the Knights of Dusk shall travel to the Green League of Silvania.
The words fell like stones into a pond. Even the wind seemed to stop to listen.
– If anyone in this world knows where the heart of the Ancient Tree lies hidden... – she said, with slight scorn, – it will be the tree-lovers.
Kaelion gave a crooked smile.
– May Umbra enfold you – said Eryndra, her voice firm, like one reciting something older than kings.
– And may his darkness be eternal – the three replied in unison, their voices merging into a single, solemn echo that spread across the cracked walls of the temple like a forbidden prayer.
After that, no more words were spoken.
In ritual silence, the figures began to move away. Their steps were firm, discreet, like hunters leaving the grounds after tracing the first circle of blood. The blackened door creaked as the Bear opened it, and the sound of the outside world — wind, leaves, a solitary crow — once again invaded the abandoned temple.
Caelus and Bia remained crouched among the rubble, their hearts pounding as if they might burst from their chests. Only when the sounds of departure had fully faded did Caelus dare to move.
– They're far enough – he murmured.
Bia ran a hand through her hair, still breathless, her gaze fixed on the door through which they had vanished.
– Who... who were those people? – she asked. – And what were they talking about?
Caelus didn't answer immediately. He walked slowly to the broken altar, eyes still alert to the void, as if expecting a forgotten shadow to appear and finish what the others had left undone.
– I don't know – he said at last. – Not everything. But some of the names... I've read them in one book or another.
He turned to Bia, his voice deep, laden with more than simple fear — burdened with incomplete knowledge, the kind that chills more than it comforts.
– Umbra is the god of the eclipse – he explained. – Not exactly light, but not darkness either. He is both. Represents balance, duality... the transformation of Man. The old texts say that where Umbra passes, nothing remains the same. Because what you see in the light, and what you feel in the shadow... are not always the same thing.
Bia furrowed her brow.
– And the other one? Noctis?
Caelus looked at the burned symbol on the altar stones: a circle wrapped in black petals.
– The goddess of darkness. Of secrets and dreams. She is what hides behind veils, what lives in closed eyes. She represents the unknown... and that which you don't want to know, but end up discovering.
A silence settled between them. The words lay in the air like ancient dust.
– But they are not just two, Bia. They are three. Three gods of the Eclipse. A triple veil cast upon the world of men. Umbra, yes, the balance, the shadow where light and darkness entwine. Noctis, the Lady of Mystery, mother of dreams, keeper of the world's whispers. But there is yet a third... Luminaris. The changer. The ender. The beginner.
– But what do they want?
Caelus shook his head, eyes fixed on the stone floor as if it might offer him an answer.
– I don't know. But their names. I've seen them before. In old scrolls. Notes my father used to make in silence, in the late hours of the night, with the lamp nearly out. Perhaps, with luck, the information we're looking for is among the books in his study. And if it's not – he added, now looking at Bia with a spark of resolve in his gaze, – then we go to Salvatierra. If anyone in this realm collects forgotten truths and dangerous fables, it's Mr. Lorenzo.
Outside, a crow cawed on the ledge, black as pitch, as if it sensed the names that had been invoked. And Bia, for the first time in a long while, felt they were walking a path where the steps had already been marked... by others, long gone.