Delilah opened her eyes to the incessant patter of rain against the windowpane. She lay there motionless, her bones chilled by the dampness of the inn room as she listened to the rhythmic serenade of the storm outside. Her mind wandered to the distant echo of laughter and the warm embrace of her mother's arms—memories of a home she hadn't seen in what seemed like an eternity. She had promised to come back; but shadows of Veldryn did a lot of holding people, holding people who had the gall to enter the eternal twilight of their shadows.
Her heart clamped tight with a thought for Elara, her foster sister; Elara's eyes searched into hers, seeking in the dark recesses the words to speak which, of all her heartbreaks and desperation, remained forever silent to utter.
End. She knew it was blood and deceit her path had been cut from, but with each day passing by, she felt the very thing that made her human slip further away: her family. The rain drummed heavier; the silence of its pounding in her ears was an unyielding contrast to the silent whispers of doubt creeping up her mind with each second ticking by.
She pushed the quilt aside and swung her legs over the bed's edge, standing up, with her boots squeaking softly on the wooden floor. She padded over to a small window, its glass steamed from the damp. She looked out and watched as drops of rain raced each other down the cobblestone street, disappearing into murky puddles below. She turned away and her eyes moved across the landscape where, at the distant horizon, a sliver of the setting sun clung to the world's edge, dying emberlike. The thought crossed her mind; such a stark reminder about how easily the two sides in that balance could tilt back against her.
Delilah's eyes were silent testimony to the duality of her soul, one part shimmering with the cold, crystalline beauty of a moonlit night, the other a fiery, tempestuous storm. Her long lashes, thick and dark, framed those pools of mystery that spoke of a thousand untold stories. They were eyes that had seen the best and worst of humanity, yet remained unclouded by judgment. Her nose was small and delicate, with the slightest upward tilt, giving her a look of perpetual curiosity, as if she were always questioning the world around her. Her high cheekbones were a testament to her resilience, chiseled by the harsh realities she faced each day.
Her lips, full and inviting, had a natural pout that hinted at the sorrow she so often held back. They were the color of a freshly picked berry, and when she smiled, it was like the sun peeking through the clouds on a rainy day—rare, but oh so brilliant. They could be soft and gentle, whispering sweet nothings, or firm and unyielding, delivering promises of pain. But it was the stillness of those lips that spoke the loudest; for they had been shut up over secrets that could rattle the foundations of kings. The corners of her mouth betrayed a subtle sadness, a reminder of the burdens she had to bear.
Her hair, once a vibrant auburn that matched the fiery hues of the sunrise, had faded over the years to a deep, mournful shade of crimson—a reflection of the perpetual night that surrounded her. It flowed over her shoulders like a river of liquid shadow, a stark contrast to the stark white of the nightgown that clung to her slender frame. The fabric was austere but elegant, reminding one of Delilah, a bit understated in strength but silent in her deadly eloquence.
If it were ordinary day, morning would come and pass, but darkness crept around the edges like it still did outside because eternal night of Veldryn was full of tricks up its sleeve, making mortal men doubt what was real or if the dream was reality. The rain had diminished into a gentle whisper, but the clouds refused to budge, hiding the city in their shroud. Delilah knew she didn't have much time; cover of night was her blessing and her bane. In the shadows, she was invisible, but the very same shadows made the road uncertain, leading her to perils unseen.
Her mind wandered back to her true home, the one she had abandoned upon taking up the dagger. Her father, a high-ranking commander in Veldryn's fearsome military, had instilled in her the art of war and the importance of discipline. His eyes, as if her own, sparkled with pride when first she showed her natural talent for strategy and stealth. But it was her mother's embrace she wanted now, the softness of her touch in stark contrast to the cold steel she had grown so accustomed to. Her mother's gentle whispers of love and her warm laughter echoed through the corridors of her memory, a stark contrast to the cold, silent world she now inhabited.
The palace was like a bastion of light in an endless night, its gleaming spires reaching up to caress the velvet sky. On its walls, intricate carvings told tales of old battles and forgotten heroes in each line and curve, where hope that once burned bright in her people's hearts stood silently. Delilah remembered the grand ballroom, where she and her sister used to twirl in circles with their parents watching them with a smile, their laughter filling the cavernous space like a symphony of joy. The grand chandeliers cast a warm glow over the gleaming marble floor, and the flickering candles threw dancing shadows across their youthful faces.
She had eyes like a freshly picked daisy, hair as golden as the sun that never shone upon Veldryn. Innocent, full of wonder. A smile that was contagious and an unbreakable spirit. Delilah remembered how her sister used to run to her once they were done with their lessons, eager to share secrets of the world she had discovered within the pages of her books - stories of lands bathed in sunlight, of flowers blooming in every color conceivable, of creatures dancing within the daylight. Nerissa had believed in those stories' power, dreamt of a world where the sun was not just a myth.
The memory of Nerissa's laughter was a knife twisted in Delilah's chest, a reminder of the promise she had made to protect her. War had stolen her sister's future, had turned brightness into ash in her eyes. Battles that ravaged the land had claimed lives-thousands of them-and included in that number was the most precious one to Delilah. She bore the weight of failure to keep Nerissa safe in every silent step through shadows. It fueled her, made her more ruthless, more precise.
Nerissa's face is imprinted on Delilah's mind: her bright eyes, her curiosity, and her warm smile, like that of the sun they'd never seen. She remembered the way Nerissa would pull on her sleeve, dragging her into the library where their mother had spent hours reading to them. The smell of old books and parchment still filled her nostrils, a bittersweet reminder of the days when the only battles they fought were with their wits and imagination. Nerissa had always loved stories, seen the world as a tapestry of possibilities. Delilah had been her shield, her protector, but in the end, she had failed.
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, tracing the contours of her face like a mournful river.
Her thoughts turned to Alden, her childhood friend who had stood by her side through the darkest of days. His eyes, like sapphires shining bright to illuminate the moonlit blue sky they had once dreamed of, had stilled a steadfast belief in her, even when she doubted herself. The warmth in his comforting presence was a torch lighting up the abyss she seemed to be drowning in: his memories. They were promised to find a way to bring back the light: an end to the interminable night that plagued their city. His touch had been a gentle reminder that not all warmth came from the blade.
She thought suddenly of Cheif Command. His strong jaw and firm, yet kind, demeanor inspired loyalty and hope in those who served beneath him. For Delilah, marrying him meant finding a place in the heart of the city she vowed to protect; through marriage, she would find her own strength and authority over people, which would fulfill her true mission. However, for her, it was not just a strategic alliance but a promise to herself that brought the warmth of the sun back into their lives.
Yet, over her thoughts hung the shadow of the man she was to marry. The Chief Commander had won his position with brutal efficiency and a cold, calculated ruthlessness. The whispers of his tactics had reached even her, the silent guardian of the shadows. She knew that his hands were stained with the blood of countless enemies and, perhaps, even allies.
Delilah's heart started racing as she thought about the seriousness of her predicament. If he was to find out who she was, the consequences would be fatal. The Chief Commander had no mercy for treachery and would not hesitate to break her heart if it meant that she was an example for others. Her mission was clear, and she had to see it through.
But she did not know what he looked like. In the shadows, everyone's face was a mask, and the man she was to marry remained a mystery to her. The only way to identify him was by his reputation, a name that sent chills down the spines of the bravest men and women. His cruelty was legendary, his power absolute. These whispers of his deeds had been her only glimpse into the monster that wore the title. Still, she needed to get closer to him, learn his face and find his weaknesses.
Delilah breathed in, wiling her heart to still its racing beat. Her hand drifted toward the dagger at her side, the cool metal a comfort against her skin. The blade was a silent promise of vengeance, a symbol of the path she had chosen. Her mission was clear: she would marry the Chief Commander, gain his trust, and then, when the time was right, she would end his reign of terror. It was a mission that required patience, skill, and a heart of stone.