Veylara felt the ash grow unnaturally cold long before she saw anything living. The southern ridge was quiet—too quiet for Firelonia's burning plains—yet something moved between the shadows like smoke given intention. Her grip on her spear tightened.
The last time anyone mentioned the Umbra Conclave, they spoke of myths, assassins woven from living dusk, a faction that had vanished even before the Starless Legion first whispered its name. But tonight, the air carried the same taste described in those old scrolls: metallic, sharp, like a blade that had already drawn blood.
A flicker in the dark. A whisper of movement.
Then they stepped out.
Figures draped in shifting veils of shadow, silhouettes that seemed carved from absence itself. Their faces were hidden behind masks that had no eye slits, no mouth, only smooth onyx that reflected nothing. Their presence pressed against Veylara's lungs until each breath felt stolen.
The Umbra Conclave had returned.
She held her spear upright. "You shouldn't be here," she said, voice level despite the terror crawling up her spine.
One of the masked figures tilted its head.
"We walk where the future bleeds," the voice answered, layered like several tones speaking at once. "And Firelonia is bleeding fast."
Before Veylara could react, the shadows behind her thickened—alive, grasping, turning into hands that tried to drag her down. She dove forward, rolling onto the cold ash, and the first attack sliced the space where her neck had been.
Their movements were too fast. Too silent. Not even the Starless fought like this.
Veylara fought with everything she had, spinning her spear, cutting light into their darkness. One figure dissolved and reformed behind her, a knife of pure shadow grazing her ribs. She felt warmth spill from the cut, her vision blurring.
She countered with a surge of internal sun-energy, but the Conclave moved through it as if the light passed through them without consequence.
"We do not seek your death," the leader said as it stepped closer. "Only a message carried by blood."
The knife rose.
Veylara blocked it a moment too late.
The blade plunged into her shoulder. Her knees buckled. The world tilted.
When the next attack came, it wasn't aimed to kill—it was meant to end her will. Her breath hitched, and she collapsed into the ash, vision shaking violently.
The Umbra Conclave circled her as her consciousness slipped.
But before the final strike could land, the air cracked open in a pulse of blinding heat.
A beam of molten gold tore across the plains and split the shadows apart.
Bao Bao landed beside Veylara with the force of a falling comet, the ash around him igniting into a ring of flame. Naelith stood behind him, wings of sun-scorch blooming from her back, her expression murderous.
But they were too late.
The Conclave had already withdrawn, melting into the darkness beyond the ridges. Only their echo remained.
Bao Bao dropped to his knees beside Veylara, pulling her upright with trembling hands. "Stay awake," he said, voice breaking despite the calm he tried to force. "Stay with me, Vey."
Her eyelids fluttered. She managed one breath. "They… came back…"
Naelith's hands glowed as she sealed the wound with magic, but even she paled at the depth of the cut. "This wasn't normal shadowcraft. They cut through sun-light itself."
Bao Bao's heart hammered. Something old stirred in his chest, something he had felt only twice before—raw, burning, terrifying. The markings on his arms began to glow, brighter than they ever had.
Not gold.
Not crimson.
Something deeper, something ancient.
The evolution wasn't controlled this time; it burst through him like a sun breaking a cage. Heat rippled outward, melting the ash into glass. Energy surged around him, forming a corona of violent radiance.
Naelith stepped back. "Bao… your power—it's changing again."
He didn't answer. He couldn't.
All he could think about was the sight of Veylara bleeding out on the ash, alone, because he had not been fast enough.
As he lifted her into his arms, a violent crack split the air above them. Dark beams erupted from the sky—signals, warnings, or perhaps an invitation.
Naelith looked up.
"The Conclave did not come to attack Firelonia," she whispered. "They came because something worse is coming."
Back in the palace, the Council sat in secret chambers, their decision already made. They would not wait for Bao Bao to lead the new armies. They would not trust Naelith's judgment. They would seize military command before the King and Queen returned.
And so, while Veylara bled in Bao Bao's arms and the Umbra Conclave vanished back into legend, the Council signed a hidden decree that would change the fate of Firelonia:
The armies would be placed under "temporary Council supervision," removing the authority of the King and Queen.
They sealed it, knowing the betrayal would ignite war within Firelonia—but believing they could control the fire.
They were wrong.
Bao Bao's evolving power sent a shockwave across the plains, as if the sun itself had awakened.
And for the first time, the Umbra Conclave watched from the shadows not as enemies…
but as witnesses to a prophecy long sealed.
---