The fight against Garek had left ripples in the gang's ranks. As whispers spread like wildfire, Valen's name began to carry weight—a blend of respect, fear, and curiosity. Though he remained outwardly calm, inside, Valen knew this victory had only intensified Trask's paranoia.
In the dimly lit corridors of the hideout, Valen sat alone, sharpening a dagger. The rhythmic scrape of metal against stone helped him focus. The dark magic within him had flared during the fight, a brief surge that left him craving more. He clenched his jaw.
Not yet. The time will come, but not now.
A quiet knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He slid the dagger into his belt and stood. When he opened the door, Ilena stood there, her face guarded.
"We need to talk," she said, her tone low.
Valen stepped aside, letting her enter. Ilena closed the door behind her, leaning against it as she crossed her arms.
"What's on your mind?" Valen asked, sitting back down.
Ilena hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Trask doesn't trust you. After what happened with Garek, he's more paranoid than ever."
"I noticed," Valen replied dryly.
"He's planning something," she continued. "I don't know what, but he's been meeting with his closest men. They're whispering about you."
Valen's eyes narrowed. "And where do you stand in all this, Ilena?"
She met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "I stand where survival is guaranteed. Right now, that means keeping you alive. Trask isn't just a brute—he's cunning, and he doesn't take chances. If he sees you as a threat, he'll act."
Valen nodded slowly, considering her words. "Good to know. Anything else?"
Ilena sighed, pushing off the door. "Just be careful, Valen. You're playing a dangerous game."
"Always," he said with a faint smirk.
The following day, Valen slipped into the shadows of the hideout, moving silently through the narrow corridors. Trask's paranoia was predictable, and Valen knew he'd use it to his advantage.
He found a secluded spot where a group of discontented gang members were gathered. They were lower-ranking thugs, men who had grown weary of Trask's rule.
"What if we didn't have to take orders from him anymore?" Valen said, stepping into the dim light.
The men stiffened, startled by his sudden appearance. One of them, a wiry man with a scar running down his cheek, frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Valen stepped closer, his tone smooth and persuasive. "Trask is losing his grip. You've all seen it. He's growing paranoid, making mistakes. If we don't act, he'll drag us all down with him."
The scarred man narrowed his eyes. "And you think you're the answer?"
"I think we all are," Valen replied, spreading his hands. "But we need someone who can lead—someone who knows how to handle the chaos that's coming. Stick with Trask, and you'll die in the gutter. Follow me, and we'll rise together."
A murmur spread through the group. Valen could see the seeds of doubt taking root, their resentment toward Trask simmering just below the surface.
"What's your plan?" another man asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and skepticism.
Valen smiled. "For now, patience. But when the time comes, we'll strike—and we'll do it together."
The men exchanged glances, and slowly, they nodded. Valen had planted the first spark of rebellion, and he knew it would grow into a blaze that would consume Trask's rule.
Later that night, Valen sat alone in his quarters, his mind racing. The dark magic within him stirred again, an insistent presence that refused to be ignored. He reached for the shard he had taken from the ritualist, holding it up to the faint moonlight streaming through the window.
The shard pulsed faintly, as if alive. Valen could feel its power calling to him, promising strength and dominance. But he also knew the dangers of relying too heavily on it.
One step at a time, he reminded himself.
A knock at the door broke his thoughts. This time, it was one of the men he had spoken to earlier.
"Valen," the man said, his voice urgent. "Trask's planning to move against you. He's called a meeting for tomorrow—just his inner circle."
Valen's eyes hardened. "Thank you for telling me."
The man hesitated before adding, "You've got a lot of us behind you now. Just say the word."
Valen nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Soon."
As the man left, Valen leaned back in his chair, his mind already crafting a plan. Trask's move against him would be his undoing, and Valen would make sure of it.
Tomorrow, the first real strike would be made.