The first ever Deathforged Contract had been signed.
All five criminals now stood under oath. To betray is to die, to falter is to die, to fail is to die. The Deathforged understood this, some more nervously than others—specifically Lorian and Ako, who looked like they'd swallowed hot coals.Their chains lay split on the marble floor, the Requiem Seals still faintly glowing on their necks before fading into their skin.
Silence held the hall for all of three seconds.
"So… uh… what now?" Lorian Volkas said, because of course he did.
Lady Vorenna—still half-smug, half-relieved—stared at him, confidence draining from her face.
'I...I didn't think this far! How am I supposed to run a contract team? Think, Vorenna, think—everyone is watching!'
She inhaled sharply.
"We… wait until the High Court decides the first action you must take. Your first mission will be—soon decided. The Court must first—"
"You don't know, do ya?" Ako cut in.
Lorian nudged her with his foot. "Yeah. Empty attic up there. Not a thought in sight."
Seris crossed her arms. "It's okay. Girl just didn't think this far. Until she does, I'm going back to my cell."
She actually turned to leave. Lady Vorenna's composure cracked like thin glass, her voice climbing an octave.
"I DO know what I'm doing! I was going to discuss with the High Court first! But since you're all so eager, I'll tell you now. Your first mission is—"
She froze.
Garruk was sitting cross-legged on the floor, huge shoulders hunched, dragging one thick finger across the marble.
"Garruk!" she yelped. "What are you doing?"
He looked up. "I don't know? I'm painting."
"Painting—? You're—" She leaned and saw the crude stick figure drawn in blood. "On the MARBLE? Garruk!"
He blinked. "Sorry." He wiped his hand on his pants, which only made things worse.
The High Court murmured among themselves—disapproval, concern, quiet regrets. Some rubbed their temples. Someone whispered, "They're all idiots."
Meanwhile, Atlas wandered back to the old man whose chair he'd stolen earlier. He pointed down.
"Up. I'm taking another nap."
The old man pointed to the floor, terrified.
"Yeah," Atlas confirmed. "The floor."
He slid into the chair, tipped it back, and closed his eyes.
Lady Vorenna wiped her face with both hands.
'They're children. All of them. Goddamned children.'
But then—silence.
When she peeked through her fingers, she saw the entire High Court bowing toward the entrance.
"What now? Why are they bow—no… him?"
A tall elven man stood framed by the great doors. He wore a flowing white silk cloak, drifting behind him like a banner. Beneath it: plates of white armor traced with gold. Crimson hair spilled to his shoulders, his pale skin immaculate, and his irises glowed like molten gold streaked with silver. He was absurdly handsome—enough that several court members swooned outright.
Lorian noticed this. Lorian hated this.
Behind the elf, a short doorman desperately tugged at his sleeve. "Sir! You cannot enter! I'm sorry, Lady Vorenna, he pushed—!"
Lady Vorenna groaned into her palm. "Dammit. Right now?"
Ako whispered to Lorian, "Who's the stud?"
"No idea. But I already hate him. Pretty bastard."
"Aww… ego bruised?" she teased.
"Go back to your cage."
Garruk had begun painting on the floor again, whilst Seris stopped to bow with the other members of the High Court—the only one of the Deathforged to do so. Though, Atlas just raised an eyebrow.
'Something's off… He's dangerous. Really dangerous. Don't want to fight him... best if I stay clear.'
He looked down. His hand rested on his dagger. He hadn't even realized he'd drawn it halfway.
'No way. Did my body just move on its own? Do I actually feel...threatened?'
The elf smiled warmly as he approached.
"Miss Vorenna. Why didn't you tell me you returned to the Empire?"
His voice was like pure velvet and a warm hearth.
Vorenna's reply… was not.
"What are you doing here?"
He grinned. "Two reasons. First, I heard you were back, and I had to see you. You look even more gorgeous than the day we met."
"We were toddlers." She said flatly.
"I have an excellent memory." He raised a hand, empty—until golden light curled from his palm, weaving into the shape of a flower. Once the light faded it revealed glowing Evernight Blossoms. He presented the bouquet with a flourish.
Atlas stiffened.
'Aether Resonance…?!'
Lady Vorenna snatched the flowers in annoyance. "Great. This makes the hundred and fifteenth bouquet. I'm running out of space."
"There's nothing wrong with growing a garden," he said warmly.
Ako stuck out her tongue. "Gross."
Vorenna blushed despite herself. "Just—why are you here, Lykkos? You said two reasons."
Atlas stepped forward, studying him like a predator sizing another predator.
'Lykkos… commander of the Sunborn Empire's armies… the Icon of Hope. That explains it. That's why I felt threatened...'
Lykkos' eyes softened, but his tone shifted—serious, heavy.
"The second reason is this… I received word from one of my investigators."
He took a slow breath.
"It's about Drakos and the Inquisitors of Godfall. And the High Court is going to want to hear it."