Crimson Heir: Rise Of The First Blood

5

CHAPTER 5

THE COURT OF SHADOWS

The district of Silent Ash was a graveyard of old nobility.

Once, these streets had been lined with the estates of powerful houses. Now the mansions stood empty, their windows like hollow eyes while their gardens were choked with black ivy. The only inhabitants were the Shadow Court who were spies and information brokers that had claimed the ruins as their own.

Rylan moved through the shadows, Mira close behind him. For some reason, she had offered to follow him when he met her standing right outside Kaelos’ library.

Something about the court of shadows rules that she wouldn't tell him.

Rylan's fangs ached, a dull, familiar hunger he had learned to ignore. Four days since his last feed, and the Seal of Flesh demanded more than what vermin blood could satisfy. But he kept the hunger leashed. Here, in the heart of enemy territory, control mattered more than feeding.

“The court’s headquarters is in the old Vancor Manor,” Mira whispered. Her own hunger was evident in the slight tremor of her voice, the way her eyes flicked toward the darkened windows as if scenting prey. “They hold their ceremonies in the great hall, that’s where they keep the Seal.”

“How do you know so much about them?” Rylan asked.

“I used to run messages for them. Small jobs, enough to stay off their kill list.” She gestured toward a looming structure ahead. “That’s it. If you go in through the servant’s entrance, you might reach the hall before they notice you.”

Rylan studied the manor. Torches burned along its walls, but the light seemed weak, as if the shadows themselves were swallowing it. Vampire eyes adjusted to darkness, but here the gloom felt unnatural, a pressure against his retinas that made his dead heart stir.

The whispers began in his head again.

He turned to Mira. “Wait for me. If I’m not back by dawn, leave.”

“Leave you?” She crossed her arms. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re the only interesting thing that’s happened in a century.”

Rylan didn’t smile, but something close to warmth flickered in his chest. Then he slipped toward the manor.

The servant’s entrance was unguarded. Rylan moved through corridors with the silence of a vampire's speed, following the pull of the echoes. The Seal of Shadows was close, he could feel it.

He emerged into a grand hall, and stopped.

The room was vast, its ceiling lost in darkness. A long table dominated the center, surrounded by figures in dark robes. They were in the middle of some ceremony. Rylan’s nose caught the metallic tang of fresh blood from the chalice that was being passed.

At the head of the table, mounted on a stand of black iron, was the Seal of Shadows.

It looked nothing like a weapon.

The cloak was folded neatly, its fabric so dark it seemed to drink the torchlight. To the untrained eye, it was a relic of an old house, a ceremonial garment worn by the court’s founder. But Rylan saw it clearly: the pulse of power woven into every thread, that made his own Seal stir in recognition.

From how they treated it, it was clear they had no idea what they held.

A woman rose from the head of the table. She was tall, with sharp features and eyes the color of tarnished silver. Her robe was finer than the others, embroidered with threads that gleamed like liquid shadow. When she smiled, her fangs caught the light.

“You can come out,” she said, her voice calm. “We’ve known you were here since you entered the district.”

Rylan stepped into the torchlight and the court’s members turned to him. Lady Ash, he presumed, tilted her head, studying him with cold curiosity. Her nostrils flared slightly, scenting his blood.

“A Crimson,” she said. “No. Something more.” Her eyes narrowed.

“I’m here for the cloak,” Rylan said.

A murmur ran through the court, but Lady Ash’s expression did not change.

“Our ceremonial mantle? You broke into our sanctum for a piece of cloth?” She laughed softly. “What makes you think I would give it to you?”

“Because you don’t know what it really is.”

Rylan stepped closer, keeping his voice low. “That cloak is not a relic of your founder. It has more powers than you could ever imagine. And you’ve been draping it over chairs during your ceremonies.”

The court stirred as some looked at the cloak with new eyes.

“If that were true,” one of them sneered, “why would a starving Crimson know more than we do?”

Rylan didn’t answer. Instead, he shifted his hand, skin hardening into a blade-like edge before softening again. A low gasp rippled through the room.

Lady Ash raised a hand, silencing them. “Even if what you say is true, why would I give such power to a stranger and not use it for myself?”

“Because it'll destroy you and I can offer you something in return.” Rylan met her gaze. “What do you want?”

Lady Ash smiled, a predator smile that showed her fangs.

“There is a rival faction encroaching on our territory. They’ve been killing our agents and burning our safe houses. Remove them, and the cloak is yours.”

Rylan considered as he knew this was not a favor, it was a test. If he failed, he died, but I f he succeeded, he would have the second Seal.

“I’ll do it,” he said.

“Good.” Lady Ash gestured towards his hand. “But first, a demonstration. I can tell you posses a power, but is it strong enough to wipe out the leader of a faction?”

Rylan knew what she was asking of him. So he decided to give them a show.

Before their eyes, he changed his skin at will, turning his both hands into different weapons. With the weapons, he stabbed himself and the whole room watched it heal in seconds.

The court stared in silence. Some had risen from their seats, their fangs bared, unsure whether to attack or kneel.

Rylan turned to Lady Ash, a smug smile on his face.

“Now tell me about the rival faction.”