Shadow of the Abyss

Chapter 375 Crown and Shadows II

"All this, my beautiful boy..." Tenebrae was saying, throwing her arms in the air at the large spires and monolithic building that rose across the land, locked in eternal night. "Is yours. Welcome to my Realm, Noctem. The Realm where the only light to exist is that of the distant stars and the moon."

She touched her swollen belly, a proud smile plastered across her face. She laughed, arms pressed to her hip to show off her belly, and said, "Want to know a secret not even that dummy father of yours knows? You can't tell him, okay? It's just for us. You and me. Not even Luna or my other children know.

Arsene has only touched a sliver of truth to the matter in becoming what he is. But the darkness holds so much truth that it is impossible to tell what's real or fiction. Let Mommy tell you about the Shadow Isles."

Awakening from his half-slumber of omniscience, his lids fluttered in a lulled beater of motion. The dark bags beneath his eyes deepened, dragging him under; lightning split the skies, throwing him into a state of alertness. He groaned, perhaps the weakest he'd ever been. He wasn't even sure he could grip his saber.

Languidly, he breathed from his window sill, throwing his head back to watch the rain beat across his window. The skies were dark, much like the eternal night of Noctem, illuminated only by the slash of lightning overhead. Thunder rolled.

He wondered how long he had been lulled into the memories. He was hungry. He felt as if it had been days, weeks, if not months, since he last ate. Perhaps longer. Stringently, he moved to his bedside, to the small bell that sat on his nightstand.

Servants flooded the room at the moment sound left the room to travel down the hall.

"Get me something to eat," he said. They bowed and hurried away.

They returned in a few breaths, a feast that would put any king to shame. There were over a hundred dishes, some of which he couldn't even pronounce or spell. He ate it all the same, realizing Soul Exhaustion didn't just make him weak.

In a way, it made him mortal: It disabled his ability to control the mana, disrupting his ability to metabolize mana into substances his body could absorb if or when needed.

'Why do you do this?' A small voice in the back of his head asked. 'Why must you torture us?'

Altair ignored it. Particularly glad the Vale King hadn't much to say. He had no answer for the man. He simply wanted to see his Mother, even if it was only in a memory that connected them in a way he never imagined. And while he couldn't talk to her, it was enough for her to talk to him.

'The Shadow Isles, ' he thought, closing his eyes. Curious about what secret such a land held that would cause Tenebrae to refuse to tell even her husband.

"You seem to be in a better mood." A shrewd voice sounded. Tasha's voice. She sauntered into the room, a smile playing on her lips. "Though, you look worse than you did yesterday."

Realizing only a day had passed, he smiled, stuffing his mouth with a cream-red potato alongside warm buttery garlic bread. His stomach growled, metabolizing whatever he ate into energy his mana or bloodline failed to provide.

Experience more on empire

"Master, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Tasha," He really was feeling better, even if he felt like shit. "So a day passed, huh? Did you get anything out of that Skinwalker?"

Talks stopped when Altair opened the chamber doors. Thunder rolled, and the windows shook fiercely. They rose, one by one, a smile spreading across their faces.

"Young Master Nox!" The Castillian was the first to say. "We were just in talks of—"

"I could hear you all from down the hall," Altair replied. "And I believe I might have a solution. Let's have a celebration."

The lords around the room frowned. Barron Graytar Welton combed his gnarled fingers through his beard. "Forgive my ignorance, Young Master, but I fail to see how that'll stop—"

"Dragonmouth connects to the Golden Fork, correct?" Altair interrupted. "And my fiance is currently heading there. Is this not the perfect time to clear out the rabble that is infesting the trading route along the Golden Fork?"

"And the celebration?" Count Kinvar asked.

"To celebrate the death of House Vadica, of course. Alongside the return of my fiance. I hear she's coming to see me."

There was a palpable awkwardness in the air. Altair smiled, waving off their concern, and said," I know what Elena's intentions are. But we know her father is wholeheartedly against the idea. So, there is a chance I can turn the situation around. I'll deal with it. So you needn't worry."

"You aren't going to kill her, right?" A boney face man asked. He pressed his gaunt fingers across the table with a deep frown. "That won't be good for business, you know."

Altair didn't recognize him. "To speak those words so openly about the daughter of a Marquess, I can't help but wonder if you're either foolish or you know something I don't."

"This is business," Hark said darkly. "And the death of Marquiss Rivia's daughter isn't good for business. If she dies and you are found anywhere near the perimeter, you'll be blamed, or have you forgotten of the Imperial Palanquin that was spotted a few days ago."

Altair couldn't resist smiling. He might have underestimated this old man.

"Forgive him, Young Master," the Castillan said. "Hark meant no disrespect. He is known for speaking his mind, no matter who he offends."

"It's quite alright," Altair waved him off. "That is the plan, after all. I can't leave Inka without someone knowing where I'm riding, too. I'm sure there'll be another assassination attempt."

The silence was palpable. Count Kinvar rose. "You mean to kill her..."

"Goodness no. But if that fool destroys our marriage agreement, then that would ruin our relationship with Marquess Rivia. What difference does it make if she dies? Both paths lead to the same outcome."

Hark stringently nodded. "But if she dies and you're a factor, it could lead to war."

"Then let's hope the Tear of the Black Moon will cause her to reconsider this folly."