Chapter 5: The Mask of the Enemy
Lirien's heart thundered in her chest as she and Varian fled through the city's hidden tunnels. They emerged into a dense forest at the edge of Vaelith, the tall trees shrouding them in darkness.
Varian didn't stop, moving with purpose. His grip on his sword was tight, but his eyes—haunted, distant—betrayed a deep inner conflict.
Lirien had never seen him like this before. He had always been the steady one, the protector. But now… now, he was running, too.
"Who are we running from, Varian?" she demanded. "What did you mean about 'something older'?"
He slowed, then turned to face her. The forest was silent, save for the rustling of leaves. "The Veil of Ash isn't the only sect that seeks the Bound One. There are others, older than them. They're not concerned with power or control. They seek something far more dangerous."
Lirien's confusion deepened. "Then what is it?"
Before Varian could answer, a voice cut through the air, as cold and sharp as steel.
"You've been running for too long, Varian."
From the shadows, a figure emerged. Tall, cloaked in black, with a mask of polished obsidian. This one was different—sleek, without the markings of the Veil. His voice was smooth, like honey, yet there was an undeniable menace beneath it.
"I am not your enemy, Varian," the figure said. "But you are a threat to the balance."
Varian's hand twitched at his sword, but the figure raised a hand in a gesture of peace.
"I am the Silver Mask, servant of the Silent Tribunal. And I have been sent to find you."