Liam's calm expression was a stark contrast to the horror that had just unfolded. "Really sorry for coming late," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
Aria's gaze was still fixed on the lifeless body of Lord Thrain, her mind reeling with the events that had transpired. "Don't be," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "If it wasn't for you, we would have been long gone by now."
Liam's eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze fixed on Aria. "I know, but my timing wasn't perfect either. I'll try not to be late next time."
Aria's thoughts raced as she processed Liam's words. Next time? What did he mean by that? She didn't want to ever see this sight of horror again. She whispered to herself, her eyes fixed on Kael's unconscious form.
Liam's smirk was a fleeting moment, his attention focused on the task at hand. "Time to go, then," he said, his hands gesturing towards Kael. "He's lost a lot of blood."
With swift movements, Liam drew a circle on the ground, his fingers tracing mysterious symbols within its boundaries. Aria watched, transfixed, as he whispered a few words, his voice barely audible.
"Step on the circle and picture yourself in the place you want to be. You'll be there," he instructed, his eyes locked on Aria.
With a deep breath, Aria gathered her last reserves of strength and lifted Kael into her arms. She stepped onto the circle, her eyes closed, picturing the safety of her home.
"Aren't you coming with us?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
Liam's response was curt. "No, I have to deliver this message to the Order myself."
He held up the human head of Lord Thrain, its eyes frozen in a permanent expression of horror. Aria's gaze was drawn to the gruesome sight, her mind recoiling in shock.
With a swift motion, Liam vanished into thin air, leaving Aria and Kael alone. The circle on the ground began to glow, a soft hum filling the air. Aria felt herself being pulled towards the light, Kael's weightlessness in her arms a strange sensation.
Within seconds, they were out of sight, vanished into the unknown, leaving behind the carnage and horror of the chamber. The silence was deafening, the only sound the soft hum of the circle, a reminder of the mysterious forces that had just been unleashed.
Deep beneath the city, hidden from prying eyes, the Order of the Black Oaks convened in their sacred house. The air was thick with secrecy, the walls adorned with ancient symbols that whispered tales of dark magic. Seven figures gathered around the circular table, their faces shrouded in shadows.
"What's taking them so long!!?" Lord Xandros's voice echoed through the chamber, his patience wearing thin. His eyes narrowed, his fingers drumming an impatient rhythm on the table.
"Calm down, Lord Xandros," Lady Valtira soothed, her slender fingers playing with the silver pendant around her neck. "You know how Lord Thrain is; he likes to savor his prey before devouring them."
Lady Lyra's cold, low voice sent a shiver down the spines of her companions. "But something feels off." Her eyes scanned the room, her gaze piercing the shadows. As the Order's chief diplomat and master of dark magic, her instincts were not to be ignored.
The room fell silent, the only sound the soft murmurs and whispers of the gathered members. Lady Arachne leaned in, her voice barely audible. "Do you think Lord Thrain has finally met his match?"
Lord Cygnus's deep voice rumbled in response. "I doubt it. He's too cunning, too ruthless. But perhaps Lady Lyra senses something we do not."
Lady Niamh's eyes gleamed with a knowing light. "Lady Lyra's instincts are rarely wrong. We should be prepared for the unexpected."
Lord Kaelin's voice was laced with skepticism. "Prepared for what? We're the Order of the Black Oaks. We're the ones who hold the power."
Lady Valtira's smile was enigmatic. "Power is a fleeting thing, Lord Kaelin. We must always be vigilant, always be prepared to adapt."
The whispers and murmurs continued, each member sharing their thoughts and fears. The air was thick with tension, the shadows seeming to grow longer and darker as the moments ticked by. Lady Lyra's words had struck a chord, and the Order of the Black Oaks knew that something was amiss. They just didn't know what, or who, was behind it.
Liam's fine figure knelt on one knee, his eyes scanning the rooftops of the city like a hawk searching for its prey. The wind whispered secrets in his ear, carrying the whispers of the city's inhabitants below. The moon cast an silver glow over the scene, illuminating the intricate network of rooftops and alleyways.
The city was alive and pulsing, a beast that never slept. Merchants hawked their wares, their voices carrying up to Liam's perch. The clang of swords and the murmur of crowds filled the air, a symphony of sound that was both familiar and comforting.
Liam's gaze was fixed on the package in his hand, the head of Lord Thrain carefully wrapped in an oxide cloth, tied with Sirius threads. The package seemed to radiate an aura of malevolence, as if it knew its contents were a harbinger of doom.
He didn't know where the Order held their secret gatherings, and even if he did, approaching them would be a suicide mission. Liam was no fool; he knew the power of the Order was not to be underestimated. Their dark magic and ruthless tactics made them a force to be reckoned with.
"Let me see if I can get one of their lackeys to deliver this," Liam muttered to himself, his eyes scanning the crowded streets below.
And then, he spotted one. An Order lackey, easily identifiable by the silver pin on his cloak, entering a Porneion - a brothel - on the outskirts of the city.
Liam's expression remained unchanged, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched the lackey disappear into the shadows. A plan was forming in his mind, a plan that would put him one step closer to his goal.
The city was a labyrinth, full of secrets and hidden dangers. But Liam was a master navigator, and he knew exactly how to use its twists and turns to his advantage. With a fluid motion, he rose from his kneeling position, his eyes never leaving the brothel below.
The game was afoot, and Liam was ready to play.
Inside the heart of the City, Aria sat with a worried look on her face at Willowdale's best hospital, located in the upscale district of Silvermist, known for its grand architecture and bustling streets. The hospital, named St. Elwes, was a beacon of hope for the city's inhabitants, its white walls and gleaming windows a symbol of healing and care.
Aria's eyes were fixed on the emergency ward, her mind racing with thoughts of Kael's condition. She had refused treatment until he was treated first, her concern for his well-being overriding her own needs.
Doctor Aivane emerged from the emergency ward, his white coat rustling as he approached Aria. "You still refused to get treated, young lady?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of concern.
Aria managed a weak response, "Doctor, I'm fine."
"How is he?" she asked, her eyes pleading for information.
Doctor Aivane's expression turned serious. "He bled a lot, and his wounds were deep. We had to perform emergency surgery to repair the damage. But don't worry, he's in good shape now. All he needs is plenty of rest and should avoid wielding that sword of his for now."
Aria's face became a bit colorful again as she heard Kael's condition was improving. She felt a weight lift off her shoulders, her mind finally at ease after everything she had experienced in the past couple of days.
"Now, would you like to be treated now?" Doctor Aivane gestured towards Aria, his eyes kind and understanding.
"Yes," she replied in a low, sharp voice, her mind focused on her own injuries.
As Doctor Aivane began to examine her, Aria felt a sense of relief wash over her. She had been through so much, and finally, she could let her guard down and allow herself to be treated. The hospital's antiseptic smell and the soft beeping of machines in the background created a sense of security, and Aria felt grateful for the care and compassion of the medical staff.
The scene was one of quiet intensity, the tension of the past few days slowly unraveling as Aria and Kael began their journey towards recovery. The hospital's sterile walls seemed to fade away, replaced by a sense of hope and renewal, as the two warriors began to heal, both in body and spirit.
Inside the Porneion, a den of decadence and desire, one of the Order's lackeys indulged in carnal pleasures. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and lust, the walls adorned with velvet drapes and golden trimmings. The sound of soft music and whispered promises filled the room, a symphony of seduction.
A mysterious woman entered, her upper and lower body covered, but her curves and skin exposed to the gaze of the lackey. Her eyes sparkled like snow in the dim light, her hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of night. Her presence was a whispered promise of forbidden delights.
"Hey you!" the lackey called out, his eyes burning with lust. "Have you come to please me as well?"
"Oh yes!" she replied, her voice a cold, tempting whisper. With a graceful gesture, she approached the lackey, her fingers tracing the contours of his face.
Entranced, the lackey dismissed the other ladies attending to him, leaving him alone with this mysterious siren. She romanced and caressed him, her touch igniting a fire of desire within him. The room faded into the background as they succumbed to their passions, lost in a world of pleasure and abandon.
The Porneion's dark allure had claimed another victim, its secrets and desires hidden behind a veil of mystery and lust. The mysterious woman's true intentions remained unknown, but one thing was certain - she had the lackey under her spell, and he would do her bidding.