His grip tightened around my throat, a silent battle waged in his eyes between indignation and the stark reality that only I could perceive the Shadow. I offered no resistance, for I too was ensnared by this truth.
With a measured breath, the Counselor retreated to the window, his silhouette a silent testament to his struggle for composure amidst the tempest of his wrath.
"Why do you believe she must die?" he inquired, his voice a whisper of despair.
"Because what lays there is not your daughter," I replied solemnly. "From the moment she encountered her Shadow, she became the embodiment of its corruption, a vessel for its darkest whims."
"Well, we are all mere mortals here, devoid of celestial birthright, left only with Shadows. It's not that dangerous to keep someone hunted by the Shadow alive for us, is it?"
His question did not catch me unawares, though I harbored a sliver of hope that some star-born might yet endure within the Castle or Labyrinth's embrace.
"I surmised as much," I conceded, my voice betraying none of my inner contemplations.
"So, why should I end her life? Is such an act mercy, an attempt to avoid danger, or a testament to paternal love?" His gaze implored me to shoulder the burden of his decision.
"What is it you seek from me, Counselor? You posed a question, and I have answered. The choice is yours alone to make." His silence was his reply as he turned back to the window again.
"Your companion, where is he? The guards have scoured the city to no avail. Did he venture into the forest alone?" The Counselor's sudden shift in topic was a transparent ploy again, one that might have succeeded had I not been well-acquainted with such tactics.
"Either in a drunken stupor or dead in the woods, should he have been foolish enough to go alone…" My words elicited a chuckle from him.
"You are a man of guesses. It's a wonder our paths have not crossed sooner. You would have been a valuable asset in the court."
His assumption was incorrect; our paths had indeed crossed before, not that I was eager to talk about that.
As I braced myself against the onslaught of memories, the door creaked open, and a familiar maid slipped in. She tiptoed to whisper in the Couselor's ear, a spruce tree swaying in her precarious balance.
The scene was almost comical—humanity laid bare, even in the smell of death. The Counselor's hand casually rested on the maid's waist, a gesture of familiarity unbefitting the gravity of the moment. Yet, after a brief exchange, he dismissed her with a patronizing but excessive pat all over her butt, turning back to me.
"You are an intriguing one. Your associate, however, is a fool…"
Well… Dougal's greed was legendary, matched only by his skill in skinning. He should have been the best, yet his vices led him astray.
"His fate remains uncertain," I mused, aware that his demise was not the subject of the maid's whisper.
"He was signed departing the city but has not been seen since."
The Counselor was likely unaware of the clandestine comings and goings that occurred under the cover of night, the tax burdens that drove men to secrecy. I remained silent.
"It appears you are not as solitary as you claim," he accused. "Complaints of disturbances emanate from your abode—fights, screams, broken furniture. Why such unrest?"
Now, his insinuation was clear: he hinted that something had been discovered…