"Look out at my father’s Imperium. Do not unroll a parchnt map or analyse a hololithic starchart. rely raise your head to the night sky and open your eyes. Stare into the blackness between worlds, that dark ocean, the silent sea. Stare into the million eyes of firelight, each a sun to be subjugated in the Emperor’s grip. The age of the alien, the era of the inhuman, is over. Mankind is in its ascendancy, and with ten thousand claws we will lay claim to the stars themselves." — Primarch Konrad Curze addressing the VIII Legion during the Third Great Crusade.
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City of Asshai by the Shadow.
The dark, gloomy, and magic-filled city was tense. The do of darkness protecting the city was getting weaker and weaker. Even with the sacrifices of the blood mages themselves, the energy do was still being bombarded every day without stopping.
Inside a majestic palace, two n and a woman talked in low tones among the black-painted walls and skulls of unknown creatures decorating the room.
All three wore dark robes and red wooden masks; only their eyes were visible through the mask, while their hands were covered in tattoos.
"Let’s flee, Quaithe." One of the n spoke, his hoarse, aged voice showing he was an elderly man, but his body didn’t seem bent by ti.
"There’s no escaping Asshai, Lord Konrad won’t allow it." Quaithe replied in a low, cautious tone. She feared that even the walls were Konrad’s eyes. In this city where blood magic and shadows flourished, anything could be used as a spy, even a re fly.
"Fuck Konrad," the other man, obviously younger, said with a furious tone. "If it weren’t for him, we would have left Asshai and established the city elsewhere, where this damned Emperor couldn’t find it."
"If you think it’s that simple to escape the man who killed gods? Don’t be naive, Ambery." Quaithe’s calm tone sounded sarcastic to the young man’s ears, which made him look at her with hostility. The shadows in the room moved as if alive.
Quaithe showed no fear; flas appeared beside her, serpents of pure fire, opening their mouths and hissing towards the young man.
"Enough." The older man said with a cold tone, which made both stop what they were doing.
"Quaithe is right, Ambery. The Emperor will always find Asshai, no matter what cave we hide in. He is not a mortal, but a great wheel of destiny. A destiny we must face, Konrad knew this and didn’t flee." The old man said with a calm tone. There was no fear in his tone.
"But, we must flee, I don’t want my inheritance to end up in the hands of the Human Emperor." He said with a calm tone. "I found a way to escape."
The old man’s words made Ambery’s and Quaithe’s eyes light up. Who wants to die? They weren’t patriots and never were; any self-respecting mage only loves himself and no one else.
"How?" Ambery asked with an anxious tone; he wanted to escape Asshai when the war began; he couldn’t stand to stay in this hostile and tense environnt for another day.
"When the blood mages sacrifice themselves to maintain the do, the do becos unstable for a mont; we take advantage of that mont to leave." The old man said with a confident and proud tone.
However, while Ambery was ecstatic with the news, Quaithe was calr and more patient, a virtue her father greatly admired.
"The center of the spell matrix must be heavily protected." Quaithe said with a calm tone. No wall was invincible, and such walls with a reputation for being invincible were always brought down from the inside out.
"Is the information correct?" Ambery also cald down and asked with a cautious tone. Konrad was not a simple opponent, much less weak. How could he not guess such flaws in the defense?
"It’s not just us who want to flee; a third of the still-living mages want to flee." The old man said with a calm tone, as if everything was under control. "Even if Konrad is strong and expects our betrayal, he cannot fight with a third of the city’s mages."
Quaithe didn’t answer; there was a bad premonition in her mind. She knew that things would never be that simple. Konrad really couldn’t fight against a third of the city’s mages, but he also had followers; would Konrad’s followers let their lord fight alone?
It was more likely that a civil war among the mages would happen, and when such a thing actually happened, it could be said that Asshai was dood forever. Even if there was a group of survivors, would these mages be enough to fight against the inhuman soldiers of the Imperium?
Quaithe found it hard to believe that would happen. Even now, all the mages of Asshai couldn’t fight head-on against the Luna Wolves legion led by Primarch Horus. The mages were fragile before humanoid monsters wearing extrely thick and heavy armor.
Quaithe sighed and didn’t think their chances of success were high. Looking at her brother and father, she decided to stay at the back of the group. If sothing happened, she would flee without any hesitation.
Her father would understand her decision.
"Let’s go." The old man said, disappearing into the shadows. Ambery followed, and Quaithe followed shortly after a brief hesitation.
For so reason, she looked at her father’s back with a confused look. Her father didn’t act that way. He didn’t even speak orders; just a silent look was enough for everyone to understand his intention.
But today, her father seed more talkative than usual.
Putting aside the bad feeling in her chest, she followed her father with hesitant steps.
-
As Quaithe expected, the atmosphere was tense, but not tense because of the war outside Asshai, but tense because of the hundreds of mages gathered in one place. Magic pulsed in the air like the crack of a whip. Everyone’s breathing was slightly faster. The sll of pungent sweat couldn’t be clearer.
Everyone was tense. The na Konrad Curze made even the bravest of mages tremble. The man, or rather, the demon of the night, ascended to the rank of Supre Mage with fear and terror.
Asshai prospered because of him, but the reign of fear over decades ant that the population didn’t even dare to commit a cri. But now, hundreds of mages were ready to challenge the Night Hunter once again after decades of repression and fear.
"Long live Asshai!!!" Quaithe’s father shouted, followed by the mages. It was hypocrisy of imnse proportions. No one loved this dark and deadly city; everyone only stayed in it because only in this place could they delve into magic without being disturbed by normal mortals.
Quaithe remained silent, observing everything with a cold and calm gaze. She knew that if they faced Konrad, many who were shouting would not speak again, because corpses don’t speak. At least normal corpses...
"Death to Konrad." Quaithe’s father shouted again; silence lingered for a mont, waiting for everyone to overco their decades of fear and start a rebellion against Konrad Curze, the Lord of Asshai and Night Hunter.
However, the desire for survival has always been greater than any fear. The mages raised one hand high with a clenched fist.
"Death to the Night Hunter!!!"
"Death to the Night Hunter!!!"
"Death to the Night Hunter!!!"
Quaithe noticed sothing wrong with her father. Her father changed the purpose of fleeing Asshai to killing Konrad. This drastic change in plan made the woman retreat into the shadows, observing her surroundings with caution and fear.
She looked at her father and saw that he didn’t seem like the sa man as before; even his aura had changed to a completely unknown person.
The bad premonition in Quaithe’s heart ca true; that man was not her father!!! It was a man using the magic of the Faceless n to impersonate her father!!!
Who the unknown man was or what happened to her father was not sothing she cared about at that mont. Suddenly, a pair of black eyes, dark as obsidian, cold and silent, stared at her in the middle of the crowd of mages.
A shiver ran through Quaithe’s body. She would never forget those eyes in her life; that gaze belonged to only one person in Asshai.
Konrad Curze!
Looking at the people shouting to kill Konrad, Quaithe showed a bitter and regretful smile. She knew that everything was Konrad’s plan to kill all dissidents and traitors of Asshai.
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Read my other books:
Ga Of Thrones: The God-Emperor of Planetos (500,000 words written).
Percy Jackson: Godwyn the Golden.
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