The light of the candles flickered in the grand chamber, casting long shadows across the intricate stained glass windows that lined the walls. The soft hum of the holy wards filled the air, their magic a constant reminder of the divine protection that surrounded the capital of the Slane Theocracy. But tonight, something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones, a deep sense of unease that had settled over the city like a suffocating blanket.
I stood at the centre of the room, my hands clasped tightly behind my back, staring at the map laid out on the large stone table before me. It was a detailed rendering of our territory, complete with every village, city, and military outpost marked in precise detail. But what troubled me wasn't the map itself. It was the reports that had begun to flood in over the past few days, reports that painted a disturbing picture.
The communication lines were down. Not just temporarily disrupted, but completely cut off. Magical relays, artefacts, divination spells, none of it was working. The flow of information had been severed, and without it, we were blind. I had heard rumours of other cities experiencing the same disruptions, but no confirmation had reached me. I didn't need confirmation. I could feel it. Whatever was happening, it was widespread, coordinated, and deliberate.
The door to the chamber opened, and a young acolyte entered, his face pale with fear. He bowed low before speaking, his voice shaking slightly.
"Archbishop Malis, the couriers from the western outposts have arrived. The magical relays are still nonfunctional, but they were able to bring news the traditional way. Shall I relay the reports?"
"Yes, speak."
He swallowed hard, clutching the scroll in his hand as if it were his lifeline.
"The western outposts report no further contact with the mercenaries sent to the elven front. All attempts to establish communication have failed. Scouts have been sent, but none have returned. There are... troubling rumours of enemy forces moving in the region, but nothing has been confirmed."
I felt my jaw clench. Mercenaries, scouts, soldiers and none of them had returned. The front with the elves had been unstable for months, but this? This was something different. The elves couldn't have done this on their own. And then, there were the rumours. Rumours about Shinigami, the death gods of foreign lands. At first, we had dismissed the reports as fearful whispers, the product of scared soldiers who had encountered something they couldn't explain. But now…
"Leave the scroll. I'll read it myself."
He bowed again and hurried out of the room, the heavy wooden doors closing behind him with a soft thud. Alone, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. The weight of the situation pressed down on me like a physical force. Magical communication was the lifeblood of our operations. Without it, we were crippled, left to rely on slow-moving couriers and outdated methods of communication. It was a vulnerability we had never anticipated, and it had been exploited perfectly.
I unfurled the scroll and skimmed through the details, but it was exactly as the acolyte had said. No new information, no answers only questions, and worse, the gnawing certainty that something far more dangerous was at play. The Shinigami had been seen. There were too many sightings, and too many whispers in the streets. Soldiers and civilians alike had reported glimpses of black-clad figures, moving through the shadows, leaving no trace. Some had even claimed they saw them in broad daylight, watching, waiting.
Shinigami… huh.
I had never encountered one personally, but the legends were enough to make my blood run cold. They were beings from another realm, spirits of death that walked the earth with powers far beyond our comprehension. We had trained our entire lives in magic, swordsmanship, and military strategy, but the Shinigami… operated on a different plane of existence. If they were truly involved, then this entire situation was far more dire than I had originally thought.
A soft knock at the door interrupted my thoughts, and one of my advisors, Father Korvan, entered the room. He was a stout man, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight. His expression was grim, his usual calm demeanour replaced with a look of deep concern.
"Malis..."
He began, using my name without the title, as he always did when we were alone.
"There are no more doubts. The reports are consistent across the region. Communication failures, sightings of the Shinigami… This is no accident."
I nodded slowly, folding the scroll and placing it on the table.
"It is worse than we feared, Korvan. The Shinigami are involved. Their tactics are clear, cut off our communication, isolate our forces, and strike when we're most vulnerable."
"But why now? The elves are already pressing our borders. They could have waited until we were weaker, more distracted."
I stared down at the map, tracing the lines of our territory with my finger.
"Because they want us to react. They want us to panic, to make a mistake. They know we cannot face them in the shadows, where they excel. They are forcing our hand, pushing us into a corner where the only option left is to confront them openly."
"You mean... they want us to send the army against them?"
"Yes, we have no choice. If we continue to fight them in the dark, using the same tactics that have already failed us, we will lose. We must force them into a battle they cannot avoid. We must meet them on the battlefield, where their stealth and tricks hold no advantage and pray that the black scripture arrives before we die."
He hesitated, glancing at the map.
"But our forces… Without the magical relays, coordinating such an effort will be slow and risky."
"But it's the only way. If we wait, if we hesitate any longer, they will tear us apart, one piece at a time. We need to strike back before they finish whatever trap they've set."
Korvan nodded reluctantly.
"Then I will begin preparations. I'll summon the generals and inform them of your decision."
He bowed and left the room, leaving me alone once more. The flickering candlelight danced across the chamber, casting long, twisted shadows on the walls. I felt the cold weight of responsibility settles deeper into my chest. This was my doing. I had led us to this point. And now, it would be up to me to see it through.
I crossed the room to the window, pushing it open and letting the cool night air wash over me. From here, I could see the lights of the city below, the bustling streets filled with soldiers, citizens, and merchants all unaware of the storm that was about to descend upon them. The Shinigami were out there, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike. But I would not give them the satisfaction. We would face them head-on, and I would make sure they regretted ever coming to our lands.
I heard a soft click behind me, the barely perceptible sound of the door closing. I froze, every muscle in my body tensing. No one was supposed to enter without my permission.
Slowly, deliberately, I turned around.
The room was empty.
I scanned the chamber, my eyes narrowing as I reached out with my senses. There was no one there, but something was wrong. I could feel it, the faintest disturbance in the air. The wards, the holy protections that surrounded this chamber, were intact, but they had been breached. Somehow, someone had slipped past them both unseen and unheard.
The Shinigami.
I moved quickly, my hand reaching for the amulet around my neck, the one that would activate the emergency wards and call for the palace guards. But before I could grasp it, a sharp pain lanced through my side, so sudden and swift that I barely registered it.
I looked down in shock to see a thin blade, black as night, protruding from my side. Blood welled up around the wound, staining my robes a deep crimson. I gasped, staggering backwards, but another strike came this time from behind. A second blade pierced my back, sliding between my ribs with terrifying precision.
I collapsed to my knees, my vision blurring as the pain intensified. I tried to summon my magic, but it was too late. I could feel my strength slipping away, my body growing weaker by the second.
Three figures materialized before me, their black-clad forms barely visible in the dim light. Their faces were hidden behind masks, their movements silent, deadly. They had been watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
I tried to speak, to call out, but my voice failed me. My vision darkened, the edges of the room fading into nothingness. The last thing I saw before the darkness took me was the faint gleam of their blades, glinting in the candlelight like shadows come to life.
And then, nothing.
The Archbishop of the Slane Theocracy was no more.