Vol 02: The Hunt │ Part 04: In Between
1
Mean while in the conclave sector.
The Hall of Edicts was silent.
First Citizen Orin sat at the head of the circular chamber, his grey robes pooling around him like shadows. The crystalline windows that normally painted the floor in amber and teal were dark, shuttered against the night. Only mana lamps remained, casting harsh white light on the empty seats of the thirteen Sector Lords.
Valdris stood at the door, his face pale.
"They are demanding answers," Valdris said. "Sector Lord Varn has called for an emergency session. High Scholar Lottie is backing him. They want to know what happened to the six platoons."
Orin did not look up. "And what have you told them?"
"That the soldiers died in the line of duty. That the mission was classified. That the details are restricted."
"And they accepted that?"
Valdris hesitated. "No, First Citizen. They are not accepting it. They are sending their own agents to investigate."
Orin finally looked up. His eyes were tired, hollow.
"Solon," he said. "This is his doing. He has gone too far."
Valdris stepped forward. "What do you want me to do?"
Orin was silent for a long moment. Then he said: "Contact Solon. Tell him the Conclave is coming for answers. Tell him to be ready."
Valdris bowed. "Yes, First Citizen."
2
The Warrens were silent.
Solon stood at the center of the Heart chamber, his bandaged hand pressed against the red stone. The crystal pulsed beneath his fingers, slow and heavy, responding to his touch. His Echo Mark blazed beneath his robes, feeding on the stone's resonance, growing stronger with each passing day.
Captain Renn entered the chamber, her face pale.
"Evaluator," she said. "The Conclave is sending agents. They are demanding answers about the soldiers."
Solon did not turn. "How many?"
"Three. Sector Lord Varn's personal agents. They will arrive within the week."
Solon's hand tightened on the stone. "And what of the agents we captured earlier?"
"They are in the holding cells. Their minds are broken. They will not talk."
Solon finally turned. His eyes were cold, burning with crimson light.
"Good," he said. "Bring me the new agents when they arrive. I will question them personally."
Renn hesitated. "Evaluator... the Conclave is growing suspicious. If they send more—"
"Then they will send more," Solon interrupted. "And I will make them all serve."
He turned back to the Heart, his Echo Mark pulsing.
The Warrens were his now. The Heart was his. And soon, everything else would be his too.
3
Solon's research continued.
He had learned to control the Heart's resonance, to shape it, to amplify his own abilities. The surviving soldiers were his test subjects—broken, hollow, their minds consumed by the stone's power. He used them to experiment, to push the boundaries of his control.
His Echo Mark was evolving. The Will Domination had grown stronger. He could plant suggestions in the minds of multiple targets, bend their wills to his own. He could transfer his pain to others, making himself nearly invincible.
But he wanted more. He needed more.
He pressed his hand against the Heart. The stone pulsed in response.
"Give me more," he whispered.
4
The Conclave agents arrived at the Warrens' entrance three days later.
They were three men in grey cloaks, their faces hard, their eyes sharp. They carried no weapons—they were not soldiers. They were investigators, sent to find the truth.
Solon met them at the entrance, his bandaged hand hidden beneath his robes. His Echo Mark pulsed beneath his skin, feeding on their fear.
"Welcome," he said. "I have been expecting you."
The lead agent stepped forward. "Evaluator Solon. We are here on behalf of Sector Lord Varn. We have questions about the missing soldiers."
Solon smiled. It was a cold, terrible smile.
"Of course," he said. "Come. I will show you everything."
5
The agents never returned to the Conclave.
They were found days later, wandering the Obsidian Teeth, their minds shattered, their bodies scarred. They spoke of darkness, of crimson light, of a man who could control their minds with a word.
Sector Lord Varn was furious. High Scholar Lottie demanded answers. The Conclave was in chaos.
But no one dared to send more agents.
Solon was untouchable.
6
Orin sat in his chambers, a glass of wine in his hand. The election was approaching. The Conclave was divided. And Solon was out of control.
Valdris entered, his face pale.
"First Citizen," he said. "We have received word from Solon. He says the agents were sent by Varn to sabotage his work. He says they were traitors."
Orin set down the glass. "Do you believe him?"
Valdris hesitated. "No, First Citizen. But I do not know if I can prove otherwise."
Orin looked out the window, at the lights of the Conclave city below.
"Solon has become a threat," he said. "But he is a threat I cannot control. Not yet."
"What do you want me to do?"
Orin was silent for a long moment. Then he said: "Wait. Watch. And when the time comes, we will act."
7
Deep in the Warrens, Solon stood before the Heart.
His Echo Mark blazed with crimson light. His Will Domination was stronger than ever. The soldiers around him were broken, hollow, their minds consumed by his control.
He smiled.
"Let them come," he said. "Let them all come. I will make them all serve."
The Heart pulsed in response—slow, heavy, hungry.
Solon touched the stone. The crimson light flared.
"Kaelen," he whispered. "I am waiting for you."