Nightblade (Darkest night)

Despite his businnes-like tone, Morgan saw the subtle strain in the man’s stoic posture.

What was the unspoken weight or debt or a bond that tied him to the Realm Between?

​...You’ve acquired one of mine, Alsterius had said...

It didn’t take a genius to know that it’d been Valerius the elusive Lord had been speaking about.

​Who was Valerius, really? And what price had he paid to walk between the worlds?

Give me two days," Morgan said quietly, glancing down at his splinted leg.

"If I try to move now, Angel will probably break my other leg out of sheer spite."

​"You have until tomorrow evening," Valerius said, turning toward the door.

"Sye has prepared a carriage. It will not be a comfortable journey."

​Valerius reached the door, his hand resting on the iron latch. He paused, looking back over his shoulder at the young man lying in the bed.

​"Be careful when you stand before him, Morgan," Valerius warned softly.

"The Realm Between does not reflect who you pretend to be. It only reflects what you are."

Morgan met Valerius’ gaze somberly, refusing to betray any emotion.

The Lord of Moreus was more perceptive than he let on. But then again, he was one of the treasured aides of a Lord. It only made sense that Morgan wouldn’t be able to fool him so easily.

Let alone a Lord.

"Very sneaky Valerius, well played," he thought.

​With that, Valerius pulled the door open and stepped out into the cold mountain air, closing it quietly behind him.

​Morgan was left alone once more in the dim timber cabin.

He turned his head toward the small window. Through it, he could see the pale, ordinary sky over the mountains, a quiet, grey expanse that looked completely detached from the mythic, terrifying worlds he had glimpsed in his sleep.

​He raised his right hand, staring at his palm.

"Heh..."

​For a fraction of a second, just beneath the surface of his pale, scarred skin, a faint thread of pale gold and liquid darkness flickered in unison, weaving together like two strands of silk before vanishing back into his veins.

"I’ll be damned..."

​Morgan slowly closed his fingers into a tight fist.

​He was a pawn standing on a board where Sovereigns were beginning to make their moves.

He didn’t know how he had ended up in their sights, nor did he know what Nythrakar had left inside his core.

"Bloody hell..."

But Velagrew was waiting.

​And Morgan had a feeling this conversation was going to hurt a lot worse than a broken leg.

The two days passed faster than he’d anticipated.

The transition from one region of the Realm Between to another was not a grand display of magic.

There was no thunderous tearing of the sky, no blazing array of runes painted across the earth, and no blinding flash of light to signal their departure.

​It began with a subtle, sickening shift in the air.

​Morgan took a step behind Valerius, his boots crunching softly on the mountain path. Then—the next step met no resistance at all.

​Suddenly, the whistling wind died. The ambient hum of the mountain evaporated into an absolute, unnatural stillness.

The grey, ash-choked sky dissolved, replaced by a horizon that made no spatial sense.

"A little warning in advance would be nice," he muttered, closing his eyes.

Morgan paused, adjusting his weight carefully to keep pressure off his splinted right leg.

He pulled a breath into his bandaged chest, half-expecting the icy burn of high-altitude air.

Instead, the air tasted flat and devoid of temperature.

They had arrived.

Morgan silently stared at the scenery before him.

​Beside him, Valerius walked on without missing a beat, his heavy steel armor silent even against the marble floor.

​Morgan looked around, his sharp, assassin’s instincts immediately taking in the surroundings with wary precision.

The Realm Between did not obey geography a characteristic, it seemed, it had innately inherited from its Lord.

To his left, a massive flight of broken marble stairs descended into a thick, motionless mist, leading to a doorway that stood completely upright with nothing behind it.

Above them, a silent river of pale violet water flowed horizontally across the sky, its surface mirroring stars that didn’t exist in the heavens above them.

"This is..."Morgan stared with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

Miles away—or perhaps a few feet, depending on one’s perception, huge, ruined arches of pale grey stone hung suspended in empty space, casting long shadows that stretched in directions unrelated to any visible light source.

"Incredible..."

His Void World did not fight the new environment.

On the contrary, it reacted with a strange, quiet familiarity.

The dark, lightless abyss coiling inside his spirit settled deeper, its synchronized orbit with his Golden Sun slowing into a low, steady thrum.

"What is happening..."

​Valerius led him toward an immense structure carved from a single, seamless block of dark, unpolished slate.

It resembled a citadel, yet its shape was entirely wrong.

From the outside, it appeared no larger than a modest keep, but as they crossed the threshold, the outer walls seemed to expand outward, opening into a gargantuan hall whose ceiling was drowning in a sea of drifting, lightless shadows.

​Deep within the silent interior, Valerius came to a halt beside two massive, unadorned iron doors.

He turned to face Morgan.

"I’ll wait here."

​Morgan tilted his head slightly, leaning favor on his good leg.

"You aren’t coming?"

​"Velagrew asked to speak with you alone," Valerius replied, his face an unreadable mask in the dim light of the hall.

​"Right," Morgan muttered dryly, a faint, humorless smirk touching his lips.

"Because going into an impossible room alone with an ancient Lord usually means something wonderful is about to happen."

​A subtle twitch answered him at the corner of Valerius’s mouth. Almost a smile.

"Do not mistake his courtesy for weakness."

​Morgan’s eyes darkened slightly, his demeanor sharpening back into that of a natural born assassin.

"I wasn’t planning to."

Good," Valerius said softly.

He reached out, pushing the heavy iron doors open. They moved without a single creak, revealing a vast, open expanse beyond.

"Go."

​Morgan took a slow, measured breath, pushing through the dull ache in his leg, and then stepped through the doorway.