The headquarters of Calsoz felt almost too silent as Ethan marched through the marbled
corridors, the steady thump of his boots echoing off towering stone arches.
Tapestries depicting legendary battles swayed gently in a faint breeze that slled of oil, steel, and parchnt.
He passed knights standing at attention, clerks scurrying between offices, and a few familiar
faces who gave him nods of respect—or curiosity. Word traveled fast in Duskwatch, and his na
was buzzing on everyone’s lips after the chaos beneath the city.
At last, he arrived at a heavy wooden door, reinforced with gleaming iron. The engraved plaque
read:
SWORDMASTER SELENE ASHVALE
He paused, feeling the weight of the last few days pressing down on his shoulders. Dust, blood,
and exhaustion still clung to his clothes. He drew a steadying breath and knocked.
"Enter!" ca a voice sharp as drawn steel.
Ethan pushed open the door and stepped inside.
Selene’s office was lit by shafts of pale sunlight slicing through stained-glass windows, casting
crimson and azure hues over towering bookshelves.
Maps were pinned across every wall—so detailed military movents, others strange runic markings that twisted across entire regions.
At the center of it all sat Swordmaster Selene, a woman of graceful poise and dangerous power.
She lounged behind her desk, arms folded, dark hair flowing over her steel-lined cloak. Her
hawkish golden eyes lifted as Ethan entered. A grin curled across her lips, feline and sharp.
"Well, well..." she purred. "Look who decided to show his face. I hope you brought so stuff for
, didn’t you? Ethan Graves—the sa bastard who managed to land a strike on Vandelion
himself."
She let out a short, musical laugh.
Ethan couldn’t help the faint grin that tugged at his own mouth. He stood straighter. "I’m back,
Swordmaster."
Selene leaned forward, her grin lingering a mont before vanishing into a mask of authority.
"Proceed."
Ethan inhaled and lifted his chin. His voice was steady, though the weight of what he was about to
say coiled tight in his chest.
"There’s sothing bigger behind this entire vampire incident. I found strange ritual marks all over
the dungeon—the floors, the walls, even carved into broken stone.
Whatever these people were doing... it looked like failed summoning circles. There were bloodstains, burnt candles, shards of old relics. They were trying to summon sothing... or soone."
Selene’s golden eyes narrowed, glinting like a predator’s. "A ritual? Summoning sothing?"
He nodded grimly. "Yes, Swordmaster. And judging by the scale of the markings and the depth of
mana residue... whoever these people are, they’re operating on a level far beyond rogue vampires
or petty cultists. This is organized. And powerful."
Selene’s fingers drumd a staccato rhythm on the dark wood of her desk. "And you’re certain of
this? No illusions, no false leads?"
"I’m certain," Ethan said. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle. Inside
were torn fragnts of parchnt, blackened ritual candles, and shards of stone etched with
runes. "This is what I collected during my investigation. I’m betting there’s more to find once we
dig deeper."
Selene took the bundle gently, eyes scanning each artifact with expert precision. A flicker of
unease crossed her features before she masked it behind a cool facade.
"Whoever these people are," she said softly, "they’re not just dangerous for us. They’re dangerous
for the Empire. Possibly for the entire continent."
Ethan gave a slow nod. "That’s what I fear too."
Selene leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. For a long mont, she stared past Ethan, her
mind clearly racing through possibilities. The silence seed to stretch between them like a
drawn blade.
Finally, she exhaled and spoke. "Good work, Ethan Graves."
The words struck him with an unexpected weight. Praise from Swordmaster Selene wasn’t easy
to earn.
He dropped his gaze and bowed. "Thank you, Swordmaster."
He turned to leave, but had barely taken two steps when Selene’s voice sliced through the room
like a dagger.
"Ethan."
He froze mid-step and slowly turned back. "Yes, Swordmaster?"
Selene sat forward again, eyes gleaming with intensity. "Before you go... there’s sothing else
you need to know."
Ethan’s brow furrowed. "Sothing else?"
Selene paused, as if carefully choosing her words. The colorful glass threw rippling light over her
stern features, deepening the shadows in the creases around her eyes.
"I’ve received reports from other regions. Isolated incidents—strange disturbances in dungeons,
missing people, blood sigils showing up where they never should. All different, but with one
common thread."
Ethan’s pulse kicked up a notch. "And that thread is...?"
"Soone," she said quietly, "or sothing, is weaving these incidents together. It’s not random.
There’s a pattern. A shape forming in the shadows.
And if your findings are connected... then we might be looking at the first moves of sothing catastrophic."
Ethan swallowed. "Catastrophic... like what?"
Selene’s mouth curved into a thin, humorless smile. "Like war. Or worse—sothing older than
war. Sothing that might erase entire cities off the map."
The weight of her words hung between them. Ethan felt it sink into his bones like ice.
He drew in a slow breath. "Then I guess... we’d better be ready."
Selene’s smile gained a glimr of admiration. "That’s why you’re still breathing, Ethan Graves.
You don’t scare easy."
He managed a wry grin. "I try my best."
Selene’s gaze softened, but only slightly. "I want you to keep your eyes open. Keep digging. And if
you find even the smallest clue pointing to the ones orchestrating this... bring it to directly.
Understood?"
"Understood," Ethan said firmly.
She leaned back, nodding once. "Good. You’re dismissed."
Ethan gave her a final bow and turned to leave. His boots thudded across the floor. He was
halfway to the door when Selene’s voice rang out once more.
"Oh, and Ethan—"
He paused, hand on the doorfra, and looked back over his shoulder.
Selene’s grin returned, fierce and bright. "Next ti, try not to blow half a dungeon sky-high, hm?
It’s hell on the budget."
Despite the exhaustion knotting his muscles, Ethan cracked a grin of his own. "No promises."
Selene’s laughter followed him out the door as he stepped into the hall, already bracing himself
for the darkness ahead.
And the door clicked shut behind him, leaving the Swordmaster staring at the evidence of
shadows gathering beyond the Empire’s borders.
The storm was coming. And Ethan Graves would be right at the heart of it.
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