Ilis looked at Afrel and motioned for him to read the letter out loud.
Afrel unfolded it and began,
"To Ilis Damas,
Son, I'm sorry for not telling you before I left for the capital. I'm in Koreth now, and it will take me a week to get to the capital. I have been called for an important matter I cannot discuss in a letter. The gathering is in two weeks. It's important for you to come to the capital for it. I will explain everything when you get here.
Take care until then.
Julius Damas."
That was a short and confusing letter. Come to think of it, Only ten months exist in a year, each with three weeks, and ten days in a week. That is odd.
Afrel folded the letter neatly and handed it to the servant beside him.
"Hm. There's some tension in the letter," Ilis said.
"It seems that way," Afrel replied.
After a few minutes of idle chat, Ilis's gaze wandered to the tall windows lining the mansion hall. Dusk had settled in, and shadows stretched long across the marble floor. The moment felt right.
Afrel soon became busy with his own matters as servants came and went. Taking advantage of the distraction, Ilis quietly slipped away from the hall and into the winding corridors of the mansion. He stayed close to the edges, moving carefully and controlling his breath, memorizing the guards' patrols.
He walked through dimly lit passages and servant stairways, keeping clear of the main halls, until he got to the heavy rear doors of the estate. After one last look over his shoulder, he opened the doors and stepped into the fading light outside the mansion walls.
He borrowed a horse from the stable and rode southeast, toward the town. He stopped a few times along the way before heading into the forest. Within minutes, he reached Sherhold Grove.
Bast was already there, leaning against a wall with a small bag slung over his shoulder.
Ilis settled the horse and tied the rope around a nearby tree before approaching him.
Bast took two masks and two robes from the bag, tossing the bag aside. He handed one mask and one robe to Ilis.
The mask had a strange allure, its design subtle yet eerie. The robe looked new and felt warm as Ilis draped it over himself.
"Alright. Now follow me," Bast said.
They moved deeper into the forest until a cave came into view.
"Is this really the right place?" Ilis asked, eyeing the entrance.
"What? Yes. Are you scared or something?" Bast replied.
"No. What do you mean, scared?" Ilis said quickly.
"Alright then. Follow me," Bast said.
They entered the cave, where lamps were already lit. Bast picked one up and led the way forward with Ilis close behind. After a short walk, they reached a staircase going down into a basement. Rich, heavy scents wafted up.
"The smell from there is strong," Ilis said.
"Let's put on the masks now," Bast said.
"Alright," Ilis replied.
They put on the masks and pushed open the wooden doors with their palms.
Inside, the space was full of people. They talked, drank, and examined items laid out for trade. Everyone wore masks and robes, hiding their faces completely. The doors closed behind Ilis and Bast, echoing faintly.
The basement felt like an underground black market.
A man approached them with a tray of drinks.
"I… is it wine?" Ilis asked cautiously.
"Don't worry. It's grape juice," the man replied.
Ilis and Bast each took a glass and began surveying their surroundings. Mysterious figures moved everywhere, and voices overlapped in low murmurs.
After a few moments, a man wearing the most luxurious robe and mask stepped forward. He struck a spoon against a glass, creating a sharp sound that silenced the room.
"You may call me Mr. Crow," he said. "I organized today's gathering. You are all here for an opportunity most would deny. A chance to rule the world. A chance to change your life. Five people will be chosen to open the vein of the Hollow Current within them."
A murmur spread through the room.
"I want everyone to write their name on a piece of paper and put it into the jar."
Two attendants brought forward a table and set a glass jar on it.
One by one, pens and paper were handed out. Everyone wrote their names and dropped them into the jar.
"Is this really good?" Ilis whispered to Bast.
"It is. You will become a Hollow Channeler," Bast whispered back.
"What if they kill us?" Ilis whispered again.
"Then why did you come here, you idiot?" Bast hissed.
"Shut up already," a tall man beside them said. He towered over everyone else in the room.
Ilis and Bast immediately fell silent.
Mr. Crow looked like a gentleman at first glance, but something about him felt off. There was a childish cruelty in his presence, a faint bloodlust lurking beneath his calm demeanor. Ilis realized this when Mr. Crow reached into the jar.
"Oh, let us see," Mr. Crow said with a laugh. "The first person is Gonam. Who is Gonam?"
A man of average height raised his hand from a distance.
"Come forward, my friend. Please give him some space," Mr. Crow said.
Gonam stepped forward and stood beside him.
"What do you desire?" Mr. Crow whispered into Gonam's ear.
"Power… authority…" Gonam replied nervously.
"That's more like it," Mr. Crow said.
Six women in cloaks suddenly appeared, forming a circle around the center of the room. They began chanting strange spells.
"This is a ritual," Bast whispered.
"He will not survive this," the tall man beside them said.
"Why?" Ilis asked.
"Anyone who wants power or authority over others cannot open a Hollow vein. His organs will burst inside him. He is being led to death," the man replied.
Ilis felt his chest tighten. Fear crept into his limbs, though he didn't entirely trust the stranger's words.
Sinister markings began appearing on the floor, connecting the women in a circle. A larger symbol formed at the center.
Mr. Crow instructed Gonam to sit within it. He obeyed.
Another cloaked woman appeared and began pouring a thick red liquid over him. It was goat's blood.
As the chanting intensified, Gonam began to scream.
"Fight it, child. Fight it, for you shall be blessed with his power," the woman repeated.
His face froze mid-scream. Veins darkened across his neck and face. His body failed, heartbeat, breathing, and temperature spiraling out of control. He collapsed lifelessly onto the ground.
Some people recoiled in horror. Others watched with fascination.
"Oh. He did not survive," Mr. Crow said calmly. "What a pity. Let us continue."
This is bad. Where are they? What if my name or Bast's name is called? Ilis thought.
Some tried to leave, but two figures in black cloaks blocked the entrance.
"No one leaves," Mr. Crow said coldly.
"This is bad. This is bad," Bast whispered repeatedly.
"You brought me into this mess. Get me out of here, Bast," Ilis hissed.
"You kids talk too much. Shut up," the tall man said.
They froze again.
"You chose to come here, not me," Mr. Crow said. "You could have stayed home, eating by the fire. But you wanted power. Now let me show you what power really is. Bring the next person."
This is really bad.
"The next person is Johan," Mr. Crow announced. "Where is Johan?"
A slightly chubby man raised his hand confidently and stepped forward. The attendants had already cleaned up the remains from the floor.
He sat within the circle.
"Quite a confident man," Mr. Crow remarked.
The ritual repeated. This time, an aura wrapped around Johan, tightening like a grip. His eyes turned white. The force crushed him, draining him until only a clump of ruined flesh remained.
Mr. Crow sighed. "Is none of you worthy of such a beautiful and astonishing power?"
Silence filled the room, Every jaw dropped.
"Uh huh… let's see…" Mr. Crow said as he unfolded the paper. "…Next contestant is… Bast. Who is Bast?"
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Ilis's thoughts spiraled as his heart slammed against his chest.
Bast, pale beneath the mask, slowly began to raise his hand. Ilis immediately grabbed his wrist and shook his head, signaling him to stop. His grip was tight, desperate.
The tall man beside them noticed.
"Are you Bast?" the man asked quietly.
Both Ilis and Bast froze. They slowly lifted their heads and looked up at him.
"I see," the tall man said. "Go, or they will kill you. Just remain calm."
"Why should we trust you?" Ilis whispered sharply. "If we stay silent, they will just choose someone else."
"You are an annoying kid," the man replied flatly.
"I repeat," Mr. Crow said loudly, his tone losing patience, "where is Bast?"
"Let me go, Ilis," Bast whispered. "It is for the best."
This idiot, Ilis thought bitterly.
"Come on," Mr. Crow taunted. "Are you scared?"
Bast remained silent.
"If you are so scared, why did you come here?" Mr. Crow continued mockingly. "You look like a kid. What would your parents think?"
Before Bast could respond, a violent explosion tore through the entrance, The doors shattered inward. Dust and debris filled the room as figures burst through the walls.
Channelers.
"It is the Safety Patrol!" someone shouted.
The Safety Patrol acted as the Empire's enforcers, hunting down forbidden rituals and keeping order throughout the land.
A man with an eye patch stood at the front, several channelers flanking him. His presence alone radiated authority.
Without a word, chaos erupted.
Spells ignited, people screamed, and masked figures fled in all directions. Amid the chaos, the tall man stood perfectly still, his gaze fixed on Ilis and Bast.
Ilis looked at him.
In the next instant, the man vanished.
The patched man moved like lightning, launching himself toward Mr. Crow. His blade cut through the air, aimed straight at the organizer.
The sword passed through him.
"What?" the man snarled.
Mr. Crow's form rippled, It was an illusion.
The false Mr. Crow laughed uncontrollably, clutching his sides as he fell backward, dissolving into nothingness.
The remaining cult guards were quickly subdued, but the women who had performed the ritual turned to ash, as if their bodies had never truly existed.
"Goddamn Aether Channelers," the patched man shouted in fury.
By then, everyone else had escaped.
An old man with a monocle over his right eye stepped into the chamber. He wore gloves and sported a neatly groomed mustache, his movements calm and precise. Without speaking, he began examining the ritual markings and the remains.
The patched man walked toward Ilis and Bast, who still stood near the ritual circle.
"You took your sweet time arriving, Chief Armandar," Ilis said.
"My apologies, my lord," Armandar replied. "There was a barrier preventing us from entering the cave."
"Wait," Bast said sharply. "You told the authorities?"
"Of course I did," Ilis snapped. "Did you not see what was happening here? You could have ended up dead."
Bast fell silent.
The stops Ilis had made in town earlier were not random, He had gone straight to the Safety Patrol.