The air was thinner here.
Not from altitude—
But from rot.
The stone walls wept cold. The scent of rusted tal and sothing fouler—like wet ash laced with regret—clung to the rock like mold. Blue torches burned along the corridor, their Essentia-infused flas offering no warmth, only hunger. They crackled in rhythm with the silence. Listening.
Seriah stood before Vaeren.
Most would kneel.
Most would bow.
She didn’t.
Arms behind her back, chin high, shadow-painted in torchlight, she looked more like a judge than a servant. Defiance carved into stillness.
“I’ve watched him long enough,” she said. Voice even. Eyes unblinking.
“He has what you’re looking for.”
Vaeren stood before a jagged alcove, an imitation of a window carved into the mountain face. Beyond it, the valley below pulsed with a sickly, endless darkness.
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His hands remained behind his back. His breath, slow and even.
asured like all things in his world.
“Did he pick your interest?” he asked.
Not a threat.
Not quite a trap.
Just a question—but it slipped between them like a blade wrapped in velvet.
Seriah’s stillness twitched—barely perceptible.
And Vaeren smiled.
“Ah. A yes.”
He turned then, pale robes whispering against stone. Eyes like black glass—reflective, not empty.
“Then I suppose… I’ll switch targets.”
That made her flinch. Just slightly.
“There’s another?” she asked, tone more edge than inquiry.
Vaeren tilted his head, amusent ghosting across his face like smoke.
“There’s always another. But you...” He studied her. “You never ask for paynt. Consider this one… your reward.”
Seriah’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re letting keep him?”
“Exactly.” Vaeren walked past her, the flicker of Essentia shadow curling around his feet like loyal dogs. “Besides, the smart one will understand our cause.”
He paused at the archway. One hand brushed the stone, reverent. Thoughtful.
“Just like I did.”
Then he vanished.
And Seriah was left alone, in a place where warmth was a mory, and corruption whispered like old friends.
And sothing beneath the mountain shifted.
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