Night had settled over Firelonia, but the Sun-Citadel was awake.
A crimson haze hung over the horizon—thin, drifting, almost beautiful. But Veylara Shadecrest recognized it immediately: the warning-smoke of a targeted attack. No fire, no explosion—just a silent signal used only by the Umbra Conclave.
Their next move.
Her Sunshadow Guards assembled in the lower courtyard, Solveil cloaks shifting from gold to shadow as lanterns flickered. Rinzo stepped beside her.
"It came from the Emberfront District," he murmured. "Too precise to be a distraction."
Veylara nodded. "Then it's a message."
Bao Bao Hamato arrived soon after, sun-blade on his back, mantle dimmed. His expression was steady, but Veylara saw tension in the way his eyes narrowed at the drifting smoke.
"We cannot treat this as a simple provocation," Bao Bao said. "The Conclave wants us to move—and probably predicts exactly how."
Veylara bowed. "Then we move in a way they cannot predict."
The King allowed a faint, proud smile. "Do what you must. Return with truth."
The order was given.
Within minutes, the Sunshadow Guard slipped into the night.
---
The Emberfront was silent. Not abandoned—silent in a way that suggested breath being held. Shadows clung to the walls where they should not have been. Lantern flames bent sideways, as if repelled by something unseen.
Rinzo stopped first.
"The smoke trail ends… right at the center of the district."
Veylara stepped forward, boots soundless on the stone. She saw it—etched into the plaza: a perfect spiral sigil of the Umbra Conclave, glowing faintly as if heated from beneath.
A trap.
But not one to avoid.
"We step together," she said. "Shields ready."
Shadeblades formed a circle. Rinzo knelt, scanning the sigil.
"It's a calling seal," he murmured. "But weaker than the one in the Ravine."
"Meaning someone wants us to find them," Veylara replied.
The moment her hand touched the sigil—
the world snapped sideways.
Smoke burst into a pillar. Cloaks whipped violently. The ground trembled under their feet as a figure rose through the haze—slow, gliding, masked in obsidian carved with sharp red streaks.
A Dreadmask.
Veylara had heard stories of them her whole life—stories that entire clans vanished when a single Dreadmask was sent.
Seeing one in front of her was different.
The mask glowed with faint embers. No eyes could be seen behind it.
The figure spoke, voice distorted, layered with multiple tones—as if more than one person was speaking at once.
"Eclipse Captain Veylara Shadecrest."
Her guards stiffened. They knew her name.
"You investigate where you should not," the Dreadmask said. "Your loyalty binds you to a King who does not see the world's ending."
Veylara stepped forward, spear reversed in her hand, eyes sharp.
"Speak your purpose."
The Dreadmask tilted its head.
"We study the Returning Flame. We know what is coming."
The mask's glow brightened.
"And we know your King cannot stop it."
That was enough.
Veylara struck first.
The Umbra-Lance shot forward—
but the Dreadmask vanished.
Not teleported.
Not dodged.
Simply… ceased to be where it had been, reappearing inches behind her with movement too quiet to hear.
Steel rang. Rinzo intercepted, blades crossing the Dreadmask's hidden weapon—a thin black spike of obsidian.
The Dreadmask whispered:
"Your shadows move well… but not deep enough."
Veylara spun, cloak shifting into its light-reflective pattern, disrupting the figure's aim. A flash of sunlight burst from her lance, but the Dreadmask shielded its mask with a twist of shadow—absorbing the light entirely.
Shadow-weave. Stronger than any she'd seen.
The battle was a blur—
shifting silhouettes, exploding embers, flashes of reflected light.
But the Dreadmask was not trying to kill.
It was testing her.
After the third clash, it spoke again.
"The Sunshadow Guard is young.
You are skilled… but unready."
Veylara launched herself forward—
—but the Dreadmask dissolved into smoke mid-strike.
Only its final words remained:
"The Sovereign knows your path.
Tell your King… the next flame has almost awakened."
The smoke collapsed.
The sigil stopped glowing.
Silence reclaimed the plaza.
Veylara stood still, chest rising slowly, mind racing.
The Sovereign—the leader of the Conclave—knew something about the Returning Flame. Something important enough to send a Dreadmask personally.
This wasn't intimidation.
This was a warning.
---
Back in the Sun-Citadel, the Sunshadow Guard reported directly to Bao Bao and Queen Naelith in the High Circle Chamber.
Veylara gave the account clearly, logically, without embellishment. Naelith listened with her usual calm detachment, hands folded, expression unreadable.
When Veylara finished, Bao Bao paced once, deep in thought.
"They're moving faster than expected," he murmured. "The Dreadmasks are not deployed lightly."
Naelith finally spoke.
"Then understand what this means for Firelonia."
Her voice was cool, precise.
"If the Conclave is announcing itself, it is not because they feel threatened… but because they are confident."
Bao Bao turned toward her. "And your recommendation?"
Naelith's golden eyes narrowed slightly.
"The Sunshadow Guard must expand. The Council must prepare emergency laws. And our political alliances must be restructured immediately."
Her tone sharpened.
"I will handle the Council. You"—she gestured slightly to Veylara—"will handle the shadows."
Veylara bowed. "As commanded."
Bao Bao stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"Captain… I fear this was only an introduction."
Veylara met his gaze, steady.
"Then we will be ready when the Conclave steps out of the dark."
The torches flickered.
The smoke outside gathered again.
And far beneath the city, the Umbra Conclave prepared their next move.
The war in silence had truly begun.