Chapter 8: Shadows and Embers
The room was silent, save for the faint hum of Solumbras, its energy resonating with Maelvas's calm but steady breathing. The assassins lay crumpled around him, their lifeless forms strewn across the floor like broken marionettes. The blade's paradoxical glow of light and shadow pulsed softly, reflecting the carnage it had wrought.
Maelvas wiped a faint smudge of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand, his golden eyes narrowing as he examined the fallen attackers. His gaze lingered on the leader, the burly assassin whose fists had crackled with unnatural energy. Maelvas nudged the body with his boot, noting the faint sigil etched into the man's neck—a sigil of binding, a mark not of loyalty, but enslavement.
"A pawn," he murmured, his tone tinged with disdain. "And not even a clever one."
He turned toward the small window of his sanctuary, pulling back the tattered curtain. The horizon glowed faintly with the first embers of dawn, casting long shadows across the plains. Maelvas closed his eyes, allowing his senses to extend outward.
There.
A faint ripple in the fabric of reality—a crack in the dimensional veil. He felt it like a jagged note in an otherwise harmonious melody, its presence sharp and unmistakable.
Maelvas strode through the mist-shrouded plains, his golden eyes narrowing as a faint tremor rippled through the air. It was subtle but unmistakable—a fissure in the dimensional veil, a crack that carried with it the unmistakable pulse of foreign energy.
Another incursion, he thought, his grip tightening on Solumbras.
The crack's source wasn't far. Maelvas quickened his pace, the mist curling around his cloak like spectral tendrils. He reached a barren expanse dotted with jagged rocks, the air heavy with energy that hummed against his skin.
And there they stood.
Three figures, each radiating the same distinct aura as Maelvas—the unmistakable energy of soul merchants. The realization sent a flicker of intrigue through his otherwise implacable mind. For many days, he had operated as the sole soul merchant in this plane, unrivaled and unchallenged. Yet now, before him, stood three others.. they found this world quicker than he had expected, he thought as he looked at them with a stoic gaze.
The first was a young woman, her movements lithe and deliberate. Her dark crimson robes, lined with intricate black runes, fluttered as she paced the clearing with feline grace. Her eyes glimmered with mischief, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.
"Look at this one," she said, her voice carrying a confident lilt. "Another merchant. You've been keeping this entire plane to yourself, haven't you? How selfish."
Maelvas regarded her coolly. "And you are?"
She stopped mid-step, spinning on her heel to face him. "Zerynthra Khavyn," she replied with mock formality, offering a theatrical bow. "And don't worry, we're not here to steal all your toys—well, not yet."
The second figure—a man clad in silvered armor etched with eldritch designs—scoffed. He stood tall and rigid, his sharp features twisted into a sneer. A polished black glaive rested across his back, its blade humming faintly with latent energy.
"Zerynthra, stop playing games," he snapped. "This one is insignificant. He's been hiding in this backwater world for who knows how long." He turned his scornful gaze to Maelvas. "You may address me as Vaeryn Caedros. Not that it matters—you won't last long enough for my name to mean anything to you."
Maelvas arched a brow but otherwise remained silent, his golden eyes shifting to the third figure. This one stood apart, his posture relaxed but exuding an air of authority that silenced even Zerynthra's jesting. His robes were dark, trimmed with azure glyphs that seemed to ripple and shift like living shadows.
Unlike the others, his face bore no expression, his sharp features betraying nothing of his thoughts. His gaze, cold and calculating, locked onto Maelvas with an intensity that suggested he was measuring more than just his strength.
"I am Kayn Syrrin," he said finally, his voice low and deliberate. "We are not here to provoke conflict, Maelvas Azyrn. This is a meeting of necessity."
The sound of his name on the stranger's lips sparked a flicker of unease, though Maelvas showed no outward reaction. "You know me? and what necessity would compel three merchants to cross dimensions?.."
Maelvas gazed at Kayn with a deadpan expression. "From what I can see.. you seem to be capable of choosing which world to enter, why this one?"
Kayn's gaze hardened. "A shared interest. One that concerns the integrity of the dimensional planes themselves. And you are indeed quite popular in the World of soul merchants.. A Slave managing to trick a soul merchant and stealing their authority.."
Kayn's gaze hardened as he analyzed maelvas "While some soul merchants have been tricked by their customers and have been destroyed, none got their power as a soul merchant stolen.. You're a unique variable maelvas".
Zerynthra chuckled, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "See? Serious as ever. But he's right. We didn't just stumble in here for fun. And it's indeed true.. you're quite popular. Mr slave."
Maelvas glared at them coldly he felt ticked off getting reminded of his weak past. "stop calling me that. It's been long since I've grown from my past, but.. what do you three plan to do now that you're here?"
Vaeryn's sneer deepened. "Why's a slave asking so many questions? it's not any of your concerns anyways. Your role here is irrelevant—this is far beyond your capabilities."
Maelvas's hand drifted to the hilt of Solumbras, though he refrained from drawing the blade. "Irrelevant? You keep calling me a slave and presume to dismiss me. Arrogance is a weakness, fool."
Before Vaeryn could retort, Kayn raised a hand, silencing him. "Enough. Our purpose here is not to sow discord. Maelvas, we have reason to believe that the dimensional barriers are weakening—not just here, but across countless planes. This incursion is only the beginning."
"And you expect me to take your word on this?" Maelvas asked, his tone flat.
Kayn's lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. "No. I expect you to act. We have our reasons for being here, and so do you. Whether we cooperate or remain adversaries is entirely your choice."
The tension in the air was palpable as the two merchants locked eyes. Zerynthra, sensing the rising intensity, broke the silence with a soft laugh.
"Well, this is exciting," she said, circling Kayn with a playful twirl. "I wonder which one of you will snap first."
Vaeryn rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, but Maelvas ignored them both. His focus remained on Kayn, whose unyielding gaze seemed to pierce through him.
For a moment, the two stood in silence, the mist curling around them like ghostly spectators. Finally, Maelvas spoke, his voice steady and cold.
"I will hear what you have to say. But tread carefully. I was in this world first, and I will not tolerate insolence."
Kayn inclined his head, his expression unreadable. "Wise words, Maelvas. Let us see if your wisdom matches your strength."
As the three merchants began to walk further into the plains, the crack in the dimension pulsing faintly behind them, Maelvas couldn't shake the faint unease that stirred within him. For decades, he had operated alone, unchallenged and unbound. Now, he faced not only rivals but the shadow of something far greater—a force that threatened to unravel the very fabric of existence.
And for the first time, he wondered if Solumbras paired with his current strength would be enough.
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