Nighttime came. Vem entered the arched doorway of Lord Uwell's chambers, the heavy door creaking ominously as it swung open. Inside, the room was in semi-darkness, the only source of illumination was a single candle flickering on a massive wooden table littered with scrolls and inkwells. The walls were decorated with tapestries depicting great battles and celestial phenomena, testifying to the history of their family.
At the far end of the room, in a huge armchair that seemed to swallow him whole, sat Lord Uwell, draped in rich fabrics reminiscent of the days when angels fearlessly ruled the heavens. His sapphire crown sparkled in the candlelight, precious stones shimmered like stars, and a long white beard fell over his chest, giving him the appearance of a wise and domineering man.
A leather headband covered one of his piercing eyes, adding an element of mystery to his imposing appearance. "Ah, Vem," Lord Uwell intoned, his deep and resonant voice echoing off the stone walls. "What is troubling you?"
Vem hesitated, the weight of his question pressing down on him like the oppressive darkness outside. "Why was I sent on this mission if I'm not allowed to talk to them?" His voice was flat, but there was disappointment behind it.
Lord Uwell leaned back, and the candlelight cast harsh shadows on his face. "Fallen angels are in danger," he said vaguely, his tone no longer expressing anything. "They need our help."
"Help?" Vem asked incredulously. "How can I help if I'm not even allowed to communicate with them?" This thought was boiling in his head, bitter disappointment bursting to the surface.
Uwell's expression remained impenetrable, only the flickering light danced on his face. "There are forces at work here that you don't understand yet," he replied in a flat voice. "You'll understand in time."
Vem frowned, sensing that Lord Uwell was withholding information that might prove crucial. "Wait, where's Pilor?"
Uwell's gaze shifted to the nearest plush pillow, where Pilor lay curled up, his feathered body twitching slightly in his sleep. "He's tired," Lord Uwell explained, his voice softer now. "He took you to the infirmary after your fight with the Succubus. Don't know how he managed that. He needs to rest. Whatever mission you take on next time, you'll have to go alone."
Vem's heart sank as he walked over to the Pilor and knelt next to it. The bird's usually bright feathers had dimmed, and his breathing was uneven, every breath was heavy. Vem gently stroked Pilor's side, and he moved slightly at his touch, but did not wake up.
"He was overzealous," Vem muttered, feeling a sense of guilt tighten in his chest.
"Indeed," Uwell said in a serious voice, "he is a good comrade, but as you know, he is prone to overdoing himself. You have to take care of him when you get back."
With a reluctant sigh, Vem turned to Lord Uwell, who was now looking at him with such intensity that expectation hung in the air. "I need to tell you something," Vem began hesitantly. He hesitated, considering how much he could tell. "I had a vision in the infirmary. I'm sure there's another fallen angel stuck in the Black Sea."
Lord Uwell's brows furrowed slightly, and skepticism showed on his face. "The Black Sea is treacherous, Vem. Many of those who get there never come back. Are you sure about what you saw?"
Vem nodded, his resolve flaring up. "That's right. There's someone there!"
Uwell studied him for a long time, the silence stretched between them like a taut string.
Finally, he nodded slowly. "Very good. If you believe it's true, I'll let you go. But I must insist that you keep your sword to yourself, Seraphina."
"Of course," Vem replied, relieved.
Uwell's expression softened slightly as he asked, "Is that all you wanted to discuss?"
"Yes," Vem replied, feeling that now that he had received permission, the weight of his burden had become lighter.
"Now, tell me about the wound on your chest," Uwell insisted, piercing him with his gaze.
"It's healing," Vem admitted, shifting uncomfortably in place. "But it still hurts to move. I just need to go to the infirmary for the nurse to treat the wound with a healing scrub.
Lord Uwell nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Vem intently. "You have to be careful. The wounds we bear are not just physical."
Vem nodded, but his mind was already on the next task. He got up from his knees, kissed Pilor on the head and stepped towards the door. But as he reached for the handle, Uwell's voice stopped him.
"Before you go," Uwell said, changing his tone, " Valeria, Kalani, and Yulia...are you close to any of them?"
The question took Vem by surprise. He turned slightly, hiding his surprise behind indifference. "No," he replied decisively, and the lie was hard on his tongue.
Lord Uwell seemed convinced and nodded slowly. Good. It's unwise to get too attached to him."
As Vem turned to leave, Uwell's voice followed him. "When are you planning to go to the Black Sea?"
"Right now," Vem said firmly, feeling impatience bubbling up inside him. Uwell shook his head in surprise, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Very good. But be careful. The shadows there are not easy to get through."
Vem nodded, determination burning in his chest, and he left the room, heading back into the dimly lit corridors of the palace. He went up to his room, where Seraphina was waiting for him. The sword was a familiar weight in his hand, the cold metal soothing from the turmoil in his head.
When he was about to leave the palace, he was seized with an instinctive desire. He was drawn back to the kitchen, where the warmth and comfort of the place beckoned to him.
He pushed the door open softly, and the familiar scents of herbs and spices enveloped him. There, in the corner, Yulia snuggled down, her delicate features softened in sleep.
As he approached, his heart ached at the sight of her. He knelt down next to her and gently shook her shoulder to wake her up. She woke up abruptly, her eyes wide in confusion.
"Vem?" she muttered, squinting against the soft light. "What are you doing here?"
"Why are you sleeping here?"
Yulia furrowed her brows, looking around as if searching for an answer. "I do not know," she admitted, still in a sleepy voice."
"I'm going on another mission," he said simply, trying to keep his tone casual.
"Oh, okay. Where's Pilor? He's usually right next to you?"
"He's...sick," Vem replied, watching her expression change to one of sympathy. "He's taken on too much."
"Oh, oh," she said softly, frowning. "I hope he gets better."
"Yeah, he will, don't worry. He always pulls through. But you should go back to the dungeon," he advised.
Yulia shook her head, stubbornness reflected on her face. "I want to go with you."
Vem looked up at the night sky, at the stars shining like shards of glass scattered across the velvet surface.
"No, you need to go back," he insisted, and there was reluctance in his voice. "I can't leave you here."
She came closer, her gaze firm and unyielding. "It's okay. I'm not afraid."
"I know," he admitted, and a soft smile broke through his tension. Before he could voice another reason, Yulia reached out, pulled him to her. The warmth of her kiss enveloped him, a spark flared in his chest as she stepped back with a puzzled expression on her face.
"You don't have to protect me," she said softly.
Vem froze in place, the warmth of her kiss lingering on his lips. Then, he stood dumbfounded as he watched her leave and close the door. Seraphina pulsed strongly in his hand, as a mixture of joy and fear pierced his chest. Along with Lord Uwell's warnings about not getting too close to any of the fallen angels...