The Ashen Keep was quiet at this hour.
Most of the hunters were either sleeping or out on missions. The training yards were empty. The armory was locked. Only the administrative wing still had lights on, and even those were dim, casting long shadows across the polished floors.
Alistair sat in his office, staring at the ssage on his screen.
It had co through the encrypted channel—the one reserved for direct communication from the High Fla Council. No na. No signature. Just a line of text, stark and cold against the dark background.
Observe the Vale boy closely. Report unusual activity.
He read it three tis.
The first ti, his stomach tightened. The second ti, his jaw clenched. The third ti, he felt sothing hot rise in his chest—anger, sharp and bitter, the kind he thought he’d buried years ago.
They wanted him to spy on his own team.
On Lucian.
A boy who had done nothing wrong. A rookie who had survived a Glimrtongue, fought off rogue hunters, and carried himself with a quiet dignity that reminded Alistair of people he used to respect.
And now the Council wanted him to report on the boy’s "unusual activity."
He knew what they ant. They’d heard the rumors. The runes. The speed. The way he’d handled Voss in that cave. They wanted to know if Lucian Vale was a threat or an asset.
Or maybe they just wanted leverage. Sothing to use against Margaret Vale in whatever political gas they were playing.
Alistair reached for the lighter in his desk drawer. He flicked it open, watched the fla dance for a mont, then touched it to the corner of the screen.
The ssage curled, blackened, and turned to ash.
He didn’t report anything.
Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.
But the weight of the command stayed with him, heavy and cold, pressing against his chest like a stone he couldn’t swallow.
---
Elsewhere
The transfer happened at dawn.
Voss sat in the back of the armored transport, her silver hand cuffed to a reinforced bar, her eyes fixed on the floor. The vehicle was designed to hold supernatural prisoners—wards carved into the walls, binders that suppressed aura and ability, a cage within a cage.
She didn’t struggle. Didn’t speak. Didn’t even look up when the guards opened the door to check on her.
Three of them. Two in front, one in back. Standard protocol.
The one in back was young. New. His na tag read "Reeves." He had the eager look of soone who hadn’t seen enough to be properly afraid.
Voss studied him from beneath her lashes.
Reeves shifted his weight. "Eyes forward."
She smiled. Not a nice smile. "I’m just admiring your dedication, officer. You’re very... attentive."
Reeves’s hand moved to his baton. "I said eyes forward."
Voss looked at the floor.
The transport hit a bump. The chains rattled. Sowhere ahead, the driver muttered sothing about the weather.
"I know things," Voss said quietly.
Reeves frowned. "What?"
"The Ashen Guard thinks it’s secure. But every faction has fingers in this pie. Demons. Rogues. Vampires. Even a few Fae, if you know where to look." She tilted her head. "You’d be surprised who’s watching."
Reeves stepped closer. "Shut your mouth."
"Why? Scared I’ll na nas?" Voss’s eyes glittered. "I could. I know them all. The cook in the Keep’s kitchen. The quartermaster who logs your supplies. The dic who treated your team last month after that vampire skirmish."
Reeves went pale.
Voss leaned forward as much as the cuffs allowed. "Your Ashen Guard isn’t as clean as you think, boy. And your masters know it. That’s why they’re so paranoid. That’s why they sent that ssage to Alistair Thorne about the Vale kid."
Reeves stepped back. "How do you—"
"I told you. I know things."
The transport slowed. They were approaching the prison gates.
Voss’s smile faded. Her eyes grew cold, distant, and sothing else flickered there—sothing raw and old and hungry.
"Tell Valentine I’m coming for him."
Reeves blinked. "What?"
"You heard ." Her voice dropped, low and venomous. "Valentine Lucifero. The demon prince. The one who thinks he’s untouchable." Her silver hand clenched, the tal groaning against the cuffs. "Tell him Voss is coming. Tell him I rember what he did. Tell him I haven’t forgotten."
Reeves stared at her. "I don’t know any Valentine."
"Of course you don’t." Voss’s smile returned, thin and sharp. "But the demon inside you does."
Reeves’s eyes flashed red.
Just for a second. Just long enough for Voss to see it.
Then it was gone.
Reeves shook his head, confused, his hand pressing against his temple. "I... what was I...?"
The transport stopped. The rear doors opened. Guards in heavy armor reached for Voss, pulling her out into the grey morning light.
She didn’t resist.
But as they led her toward the prison gates, she looked back at Reeves—still standing by the transport, still rubbing his head, still trying to rember what he’d forgotten.
Voss’s smile never wavered.
"Tick tock," she whispered.
The guards shoved her forward.
The gates closed behind her.
---
Ashen Keep – Alistair’s Office – Later That Evening
Alistair sat in the dark, the ashes of the Council’s ssage still scattered across his desk.
He hadn’t moved in hours.
His mind kept circling back to the sa questions. Why now? Why Lucian? What did the Council know that he didn’t?
And why did he feel like he was running out of ti?
His phone buzzed. A ssage from an unknown number.
They’re watching. Be careful who you trust.
He stared at the screen. Then deleted it.
The shadows in the corner of his office seed darker than before.
Sowhere in the Keep, a clock struck midnight.
And sowhere in a high-security prison, Voss sat on the edge of her cot, her silver hand glowing faintly in the dark, and she waited.
She had waited seven years.
She could wait a little longer.
Valentine would co. Or she would go to him.
Either way, one of them would bleed.
User Comments
0 comments from readers