Evren's footsteps echoed faintly as he traversed the empty alleys of Val'Tharis, the pendant concealed beneath his cloak. The cold night air carried the scent of damp stone and faint traces of ash, a reminder of the Abyss's ever-present decay.
Varis would be expecting him soon, but Evren wasn't in a rush. His mind churned as he replayed the events of the gala. The silver-haired woman had been a wildcard, and her words lingered: We'll cross paths again.
Who is she, and why was she there?
He entered the small, nondescript building that served as one of Varis's safehouses. Inside, the familiar dim light of oil lamps revealed Varis seated at a sturdy table, flanked by two of his enforcers. The man's sharp eyes gleamed as Evren approached.
"You're alive," Varis said, leaning back in his chair. "I take it you succeeded?"
Evren pulled the pendant from his cloak and placed it on the table. "As promised."
Varis picked up the pendant, turning it over in his hands. The faint glow of the artifact's etched runes illuminated his face. "Beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.
Evren remained silent, his expression unreadable.
Varis finally looked up, his smirk returning. "You've done well, Evren. Better than I expected."
"Flattery isn't your style, Varis," Evren replied smoothly. "What's next?"
Varis chuckled. "Straight to business. I like that. But first…" He gestured to his enforcers, who stepped forward.
Evren tensed, his hand drifting toward his dagger. "What's this about?"
"Relax," Varis said, holding up a hand. "A precaution. You see, I hear things, Evren. Whispers about the gala. About a certain silver-haired woman who seemed… very interested in the pendant."
Evren's expression didn't falter. "She was a distraction, nothing more. Another player in the game."
"Is that so?" Varis leaned forward, his smile sharp. "And you're certain she wasn't working with you?"
Evren met Varis's gaze without flinching. "If I had any intention of double-crossing you, do you think I'd be standing here handing over the relic?"
Varis studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Fair point. But remember, Evren, loyalty is a fragile thing in Val'Tharis. I trust you—for now. But betray me…"
"I understand," Evren said, his tone cool. "Anything else?"
Varis relaxed, leaning back in his chair. "As a matter of fact, yes. Your next task involves uncovering more about our mysterious rivals. The silver-haired woman you mentioned—find out who she is and who she works for. And if she becomes a problem… deal with her."
Evren left the safehouse with the weight of Varis's orders pressing on his shoulders. The streets were quieter now, the revelry of the gala long forgotten. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that unseen eyes were following him.
He ducked into a shadowed alcove, waiting in silence. Moments later, a figure emerged from the shadows—a cloaked man, his movements cautious but deliberate.
Evren stepped out, his dagger gleaming in the faint light. "You've been following me for the last three blocks. Care to explain why?"
The man froze, his hands raised defensively. "Wait! I'm just a messenger."
"A messenger for who?"
"Her," the man said, his voice trembling. "The silver-haired woman. She sent me to deliver a message."
Evren's grip on the dagger tightened. "What message?"
"She wants to meet," the man said. "Tomorrow night. The abandoned forge in the Lower Wards. Alone."
Evren frowned. "And if I refuse?"
The man swallowed nervously. "She said you wouldn't. She also said to tell you this: 'You're not the only one playing the long game.'"
The next night, Evren arrived at the abandoned forge, its crumbling structure a relic of Val'Tharis's industrial past. The air was heavy with the scent of rust and soot, the faint glow of molten embers still lingering in the broken hearths.
The silver-haired woman stood near one of the forges, her posture relaxed but alert. She wore a faint smile, as though she'd been expecting him to appear all along.
"Punctual," she said. "I like that."
Evren crossed his arms. "Let's skip the pleasantries. Why did you want to meet?"
"To propose an alliance," she said simply.
Evren raised an eyebrow. "An alliance? Last night, you tried to kill me."
She shrugged. "And yet, here we are. You're clearly resourceful, and I have my own goals. Goals that don't align with Varis's."
"Go on."
"The relics," she said, her tone serious. "They're not just keys to power—they're pieces of something far greater. If Varis gets his hands on all of them, he'll do more than control Val'Tharis. He'll destroy it."
Evren smirked. "And you expect me to betray him based on your word alone?"
"No," she said, stepping closer. "But you're smart enough to see that Varis doesn't trust you. He never will. You're just a tool to him, and tools get discarded."
Her words struck a chord, but Evren's face remained impassive. "So what do you want?"
"Simple," she said. "Work with me. Help me gather the relics before Varis does, and I'll make sure you're rewarded. More than Varis ever could."
Evren studied her, his mind racing. He didn't trust her, but her offer was tempting. Aligning with her could be just the leverage he needed to stay ahead in the game.
"And if I refuse?" he asked.
Her smile widened. "Then you'll have to hope Varis's trust is worth more than your life."
Evren chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous. "You play a dangerous game, lady."
"So do you," she replied. "The question is: whose side are you really on?"
Evren didn't answer. Instead, he turned and walked away, leaving her words to linger in the shadows. The web of lies was growing, and Evren knew that soon, he'd have to choose which side to cut himself free from—and which side to destroy.