Chapter - 64
Marcus’s entire body shuddered under the weight of those words.
"You have let down."
"Tell , Marcus..."
"Have you forgotten what the consequences of failure are?"
The words of the robed man echoed in his head like a sacred curse. His master was angry at him.
The blood of that holess man that had sprayed across his chest and face was still warm, but now it felt like ice on his skin.
The head of the man lay before him, his face showing an uneasy peace, His eyes were closed and there was a smile on his face and.
A small trickle of blood still oozed from the severed neck and the headless body. The blood pooled on the stone floor and was creeping toward Marcus’s knees.
Marcus’s lips parted, trembling. His throat was dry, he barely managed to speak, just a bit louder than a whisper, "F... Forgive ... M-Master..."
He didn’t dare lift his head. His voice cracked like splintered glass as he begged.
"I... I failed. I accept whatever punishnt you see fit. But please... Please master... grant another chance. I swear upon everything I swear on my bones, my blood, my soul that I will not fail again..."
"Please give another chance," Marcus pleaded in a shaking voice.
But the robed man without saying anything turned away. He moved without a sound. There was no rustle of cloth, no footfall, nothing. He was like a phantom.
Marcus only heard the wet thump of the head being placed on so surface in front of him. The echoes of the dripping blood hamred into his ears like the sound of doom.
Then suddenly the man in robe spoke. It was slow and asured. He was like a preacher, or an executioner reciting scripture before a beheading.
"There was a ti," the master whispered, "It was when we were nothing but starving mongrels in this broken world... fighting, groveling, clawing, devouring scraps of garbage."
The words of Marcus’s master hung in the air, almost choking Marcus.
"But when we were on the verge of losing everything, from those ruins we were reborn. Not by miracles. Not by rcy. But by sheer will. By fighting. By killing everyone else."
His tone dipped, thunder in velvet.
"You were also like that once, Marcus. Lost in this world."
"And I can still rember. You knelt in front of in the ash and drank from my cup. You carved your na on the stone with your own blood."
"With that you bore our mark. You earned a na. And you beca one of us."
As the master spoke, each word felt heavier than the last. Marcus felt it not just in his ears, but in his chest, his spine, his marrow.
"And now..."
A pause.
The room went quiet.
"After all we have been through, you tremble before , as if I am so enemy of yours and not the very man who pulled you from the darkness, back to the light."
Marcus’s breath caught in his throat. He dared not speak. His face hovered just inches from the floor, forehead slick with sweat, heart pounding like a war drum.
Then he heard his master’s footsteps. They were soft and calm. The master had turned. He was walking back toward Marcus, every step deliberate.
Marcus raised his eyes. Just a little. Enough to see the black robes again. The hem was soaked in blood.
The master’s voice dropped lower, silken now, almost affectionate as he knelt down in front of Marcus.
"You have failed . You fear ... Yet... despite your failure... despite the stench of weakness I sll on you..."
The Master raised his hand and caressed Marcus’s face gently.
"I cannot deny what you are to , Marcus."
"You are my most beloved disciple," The man in robe told Marcus with utmost affection.
Marcus’s eyes widened. Sothing snapped inside him. It was not in fear, but in ecstatic relief.
He practically wanted to leap forward and kiss his master’s feet.
"T-thank you, Master! Thank you! I swear I will make up for it. I will do anything you ask, anything! I will not disappoint you again... If you want I will..."
But the Black robed man raised his hand elegantly, silencing Marcus. And with that Marcus froze as if it were a blade drawn across his throat.
With a snap, silence returned in the move.
Seeing his obedient disciple, the man in black robe smiled.
"Then listen carefully... My dear, Marcus," His tone was still the sa, soft and pressurising.
And with that Marcus master raised his hand and snapped his fingers. It was a subtle gesture, almost too gentle and yet, the effect was instantaneous.
A low hissing sound erged from nowhere, the temperature around Marcus plumting. The air thickened, viscous and sharp, as though invisible blades were carving through the silence.
Then ca the black mist.
It slithered into existence like an ink stain blooming across parchnt, swirling and twisting mid-air in front of them. Its movent was hypnotic, unnatural like watching shadows dance with hunger.
Marcus instinctively pulled back, breath lodged in his throat. He knew who it was. And it scared him.
In front of his eyes the mist split apart like torn fabric. And she stepped forward.
She was like a symphony in red and black, just like Marcus’s master.
Her long, crimson hair flew in loose waves down to her waist. They looked so vibrant that it seed to burn like a slow fla.
Her skin was pale as moonlight, smooth, untouched, like carved porcelain with a faint glint of sothing unnatural beneath the surface.
Her eyes were the shade of cooled magma, glowing deep red yet unreadable, ringed by thick lashes that only enhanced their piercing sharpness.
She wore the sa black and red ceremonial robes as the Master, though hers clung closer to her fra, elegant, sculpted, designed to highlight her voluptuous curves, not conceal them.
Marcus’s mouth went dry as he looked at the girl.
His gaze, despite his better judgnt, followed the delicate arch of her neck, the way her robe curved just slightly at the waist, and how her eyes glead with innocence.
The girl stepped forward silently, with grace that didn’t belong to mortals. Then, with one smooth movent, she knelt before the black-robed master and bowed her head.
"You summoned , Master," she said. Her voice was soft and laced with absolute obedience.
On the other hand, Marcus continued to stare. He couldn’t help it. Sothing about her... No... Everything about her has always held him captive. He didn’t even realize his jaw had slackened slightly.
The girl noticed. Her head tilted slightly. Her glowing red eyes found his face. And then she smiled, a radiant, captivating smile. It lit up her face like a sudden sunrise in a field of blood.
Marcus felt his heart seize. His breath got caught in his throat, and he looked away with a jolt as his cheeks flushed in sha.
But the mont his eyes fell from her face, the warmth vanished from hers.
That beautiful smile lted like wax beneath a blowtorch.
Her expression turned to disdain, the corners of her lips curled into a scornful sneer. Her red eyes flicked to him like she was staring at an insignificant insect.
But then her Master’s voice made her look away from Marcus.
"Lilith," The master spoke.
The girl, Lilith turned her head imdiately to him, her face devoid of emotion, "Yes, Master."
"You will follow Marcus for now," he said, voice slow and deliberate, "There is a family I want you to observe... closely."
He didn’t say a na.
He didn’t need to.
Marcus knew exactly who he ant.
"The granddaughter of that woman," the Master continued, "Levain."
Lilith nodded slowly.
"Understood."
The Master waved his hand. A faint flicker of light shimred in the air before sothing small floated toward Lilith. It was a necklace, composed of black beads interwoven with thin red threads. It looked plain at first glance, nothing you would spare a second glance to.
But Marcus felt the pressure change the mont it appeared, and Lilith caught it mid-air, holding it gently between her fingers.
"Wear this at all tis while in their presence," the Master said, "It will mask your aura. To them, you will be like any other mortal. You are to observe. Learn. Weave your web quietly."
"Iris Levain is not to be underestimated. And her house... I need to know everything that happens in that house."
"I won’t disappoint you, master," Lilith said, placing the necklace around her neck.
And as soon as it clasped, a pulse of dull red light ran across her body—and vanished.
Marcus blinked.
Even though she stood before him, her presence had diminished so drastically it was like she had vanished behind a veil. Her imnse pressure, the subtle power that rolled off her earlier like waves, was simply gone. It was compressed, locked behind a façade of fragility.
The Master took a step back and raised his head toward the ceiling.
"We are close... I can hear the echoes. Sothing is rising," He said looking up, towards the ceiling, "Find out what, and who, walks among the Levains."
He turned slightly, just enough for his robes to flick behind him like a curtain of night.
"Hide your fangs well."
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