The darkness in the alley was thick, almost suffocating. The moon hung low in the sky, casting faint silver light on the cobblestone streets of Velmond. It was the perfect cover for the Council's operatives who prowled the underbelly of the city, moving silently between the shadows, always watching, always listening.
Aran sat in the corner of a dimly lit tavern, his hood drawn low over his face. He had chosen this particular location for a reason: the "Black Fox Inn" was notorious for hosting all manner of scoundrels and spies, but more importantly, it was a place where secrets could be bought and sold with the right coin.
His eyes scanned the room, sharp and calculating. He could feel the presence of the shadow within him, a faint pressure at the back of his mind. It had been restless ever since his conversation with Joran, whispering half-truths and promises of power. But Aran had learned to block it out, focusing instead on his current goal: finding out what the Council was planning.
He didn't have to wait long. A man entered the tavern—a familiar face. It was Rurik, a low-level informant Aran had used in the past. The man was nervous, glancing around as though he expected someone to be watching. His jittery movements were enough to give him away.
Aran beckoned him over with a subtle wave, and Rurik scurried to his table, sitting down with a hurried glance over his shoulder.
"You came alone?" Aran's voice was calm, but the edge in it was unmistakable.
"Y-Yes, of course, I—" Rurik stammered, his eyes darting around. "I made sure no one followed me. But I don't have much time. The Council—they're growing suspicious."
Aran leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Tell me what you know."
Rurik swallowed hard, wiping his brow. "The Council… they've been meeting in secret for weeks now. I don't know the full details, but they're planning something big. They've brought in new blood—people from outside the city. Foreigners, mercenaries, and… some say dark mages. They're forming a coalition."
"A coalition for what?" Aran asked, his voice low but insistent.
Rurik hesitated, his eyes widening with fear. "To take you down. They know about your moves, Aran. They know you've been consolidating power in the shadows. They want to stop you before you get any stronger."
A flicker of annoyance crossed Aran's face, though he hid it well. He had anticipated the Council would move against him eventually, but not so soon. Still, this was valuable information—something he could use to turn the tables in his favor.
"Who's leading this coalition?" Aran pressed.
"I… I don't know exactly, but I've heard whispers. There's a name that keeps coming up. 'The Black Hand.' No one knows who they are, but they're pulling the strings from behind the scenes. The Council is just a front—they're not the real power anymore. The Black Hand is."
Aran's mind raced. The Black Hand. It wasn't a name he had come across before, but it sent a shiver down his spine. Someone else was moving in the dark, manipulating events just as he had been. It was both unsettling and intriguing.
"Keep digging," Aran said after a moment. "Find out everything you can about this Black Hand. I want names, locations, anything you can find."
Rurik nodded quickly, his hands shaking. "Of course, of course. I'll get you the information, I swear."
Aran reached into his cloak and pulled out a small pouch of coins, sliding it across the table. "This should be enough to keep you quiet. Don't let anyone know you've spoken to me. And Rurik—" Aran's voice dropped to a deadly whisper, "—if you betray me, you won't live long enough to regret it."
Rurik paled, nodding frantically. "I-I understand. You won't hear a word from me, I swear."
With that, Rurik stood and hurried out of the tavern, leaving Aran alone with his thoughts. The Black Hand. It was a new piece of the puzzle, and one that complicated things significantly. He would need to tread carefully.
But there was something else nagging at him—something that Rurik had mentioned in passing. Dark mages. If the Council was aligning itself with dark magic, then they were more desperate than he had thought. Dark magic was outlawed in Velmond for a reason—it was unpredictable, dangerous, and most importantly, it had a price. One that most were unwilling to pay.
The shadow within him stirred, sensing his unease.
"Dark magic is nothing compared to what you possess," the voice whispered. "They are ants playing with fire, while you hold the flames of creation in your hand."
Aran clenched his fist, forcing the shadow's voice back. He couldn't afford to lose focus now. The Council's coalition was a threat, but it was one he could still manage—if he played his cards right.
He stood up, leaving a few coins on the table for his drink, and made his way out of the tavern. The night air was cool against his skin as he walked down the alley, his mind already working through his next move.
He would need to act quickly. If the Council was preparing to move against him, he couldn't afford to sit idly by and wait for them to strike. He would need to gather his own forces, make alliances where necessary, and eliminate threats before they had a chance to grow.
But more than that, he would need to find out who—or what—the Black Hand was. If there was a new player in the game, Aran would have to either bring them to heel or remove them from the board entirely.
As he reached the end of the alley, a figure stepped out of the shadows. Aran froze, his hand instinctively moving toward the dagger hidden beneath his cloak.
It was Kira.
She looked the same as ever—sharp, calculating, with that ever-present smirk on her lips. But there was something different in her eyes. Something darker.
"Hello, Aran," she said, her voice soft but dangerous. "It's been a while."
Aran's eyes narrowed, his mind racing. Kira's sudden reappearance was not a coincidence. She was here for a reason—and he intended to find out what that reason was.
"Kira," he said calmly, though his body remained tense. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his. "I've been hearing things, Aran. Whispers about you. About the shadow."
Aran's heart skipped a beat, but he kept his face impassive. "And what do these whispers say?"
Kira smiled, a cold, knowing smile. "That you're playing with forces you don't understand. That you've made a deal with something far more dangerous than you realize."
She stopped a few feet from him, her eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "And I'm here to offer you a choice."
Aran's hand tightened around the hilt of his dagger. "What kind of choice?"
Kira's smile widened. "Join me—or be destroyed."
The words hung in the air like a threat, and Aran knew, in that moment, that the game had just become far more complicated.