LOGINThe silence outside felt too perfect– too still for a city under siege by an army reputed for its brutality. Whatever game was being played here, Luz intended to play it aggressively rather than passively reacting to whatever surprises Cidade dos escravos had prepared. Meanwhile Darm made his way upstairs and climber out of one of the small dormer windows protruding from the roofline. The roof is worn and uneven, textured with age and exposure to the elements. Surround the Estate is a t
As Escuro and Salvaxe approached the cottage an old man came out. He has long, unkempt grey hair that falls in uneven strands around his face and shoulders, tangled and coarse, while his thick beard– also grey and streaked with darker remnants– spreads across his chest in a wild, natural mass. There are deep lines carved into his face, especially around his eyes and mouth, giving him a weathered, almost carved appearance, as though time itself has etched its passage into his skin. He was dressed in worn, layered clothing made of rough wool frayed at the edges and patched in places. A thick fur coat is draped over his shoulders, heavy and unrefined, its texture coarse and uneven. The sleeves of his garments are tattered, revealing glimpses of his aged hands, which are rough and calloused. The old man stood in the doorway of his cottage, one hand gripping the warped wooden frame the other trembling at his side as he spotted the two figures emerging through the trees.
Estrela reached out and brushed a stray piece of golden hair from her forehead, her fingers moving with a grace that felt almost choreographed. “I woke up feeling… different,” she continued, stepped closer to him. “The air feels sharper. The light is brighter. I think the water in the fountain had some kind of effect on me. It is not unpleasant.” Escuro’s eyes darted from the fountain to her. “You drank from it?” he asked surprised. Her expression did not flicker. She did not flinch at his question, nor did she look away. She simple nodded, her golden hair swaying with the movement. “I did,” she said, her tone conversational, as if she were discussing the weather rather than a ritual that had written her very essence. “It was almost impossible not to. The voice–” she paused, a small, thoughtful frown crossing her face. “The inscription. It felt like a call.” She took another step toward hi
Estrela stood up and gestured toward the four arms of the device. “We will probably need both of us to turn it. On three?” Escuro nodded and they both turned the mechanism, the cable moved and the sound of moving parts behind the walls echoed in the chamber. Then there was the sound of rushing water, which grew louder and vibrated through the stone floor beneath their feet. She jumped slightly at the sudden noise, her haze green eyes darting toward the veiling as if expecting water to come crashing down. “It is working!” she whispered, a grin breaking across her face. “The mechanism is actually moving!” the sound was not a trickle; it was a heavy, rhythmic flow, like a pipe being opened wide. It seemed to be coming from somewhere deep within the walls, echoing through the chamber with a hollow resonance. She grabbed the edge of the pedestal, her knuckles white. “That is not just a fountain, Escuro. That is a lot of water
The humidity inside the cave was thick, pressing against their skin like a warm blanket. Estrela led the way, holding a flickering lantern aloft. The light danced off the damp walls, revealing slick surfaces and jagged formations that dripped with slow, rhythmic water. “The river is deeper than I expected,” she said, her voice echoing slightly off the low ceiling. She stepped carefully over a cluster of smooth stones, her boots squelching in the shallow water that pooled around their ankles. “But the markings her– the match the ones in the northern corridor perfectly.” She paused, holding the lantern high to illuminate a series of carvings etched into the cave wall just above the waterline. They were fresher than the ones in the ruins, almost as if they had been maintained. “Escuro, look,” she whispered, beckoning him closer. The carvings showed an image of the river flowing into the cave. The lines were detailed and artistic. There was
Mestre Escuro stood on one of the watchtowers near the burned and collapsed cathedral. He looked out at the city below, the smoke still lingering in the air. As the sun set, the lights coming from some of the houses and the embers from burned down houses became clearer to see. His gaze was distant and unfocused, as he recalls the past.“You must be Escuro,” Estela Astuta said cheerfully. “It is very nice to meet you.” She shook his hand. Escuro smiled shyly at her cheerful tone and shook her hand. “Thank you, I am glad to be here,” he said with equal friendliness. “I look forward to working with you.” She pulled her hand back, her hazel green eyes bright with excitement as she gestured toward the crumbling stone pillars surrounding them. Vines snaked around the weathered masonry, and the air smelled of damp earth and old dust. “I have already made some progress with the eastern corridor,” she said, stepping close
Luz moved around the tub, kneeling in front of Amelia so he could look directly into her green eyes. The steam curled between them, softening his features, but the hardness in his jaw remained. “No one touches you,” he said, each word measured and final. “Not while I am breathing.” He reached out, his large hands framing her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the steel in his voice. “I know,” she said with a steady look. “So, we are even. I treat you like a person and you do the same for me.” Her hand moved to his chest. “Now will you join me in this tub already? There is plenty of space.”Luz let out a short, huffed breath– something close to a laugh, though his expression remained soft. He looked down at Amelia’s hand resting against his chest, his heart eating steady and strong beneath her palm. “Even,” he repeated, the word tasting
“I don’t mind being consumed either,” Amelia said softly. “You don’t know what you are saying,” Luz whispered harshly, his hands trembling slightly as they frame Amelia’s face. “Being consumed means becoming a monster. Losing everything that makes you human.” The darkness on his chest pulsed viol
Luz’s grip on Amelia’s red hair tightened slightly, both painfully but demanding obedience. The black vein on his neck pulsed furiously as the Darkness within him sensed the victory– this human soul willingly surrendering herself. “You will sleep in my quarters and eat at my table. Every Corrompi
“That is not you fate,” Luz declared firmly, his voice carrying the authority of someone used to giving orders that were obeyed without question. “You are not some chattel to be bartered away to the highest bidder.” He closed the distance between them again in two long strides, his armoured form
“Found a way?” his voice rose sharply, echoing in the black tent. “There was no way! You think I wanted to abandon you? To watch you grown up without me while I became this… this monster?” he gestured wildly at his corrupted form, at the dark marks creeping up his neck and the crimson sigils puls







