Chapter 11 - 10 True Journey
"Explain it to me, Havil. But make sure your tongue doesn’t lie."
Her voice was soft. Too soft. Like a mother singing a lullaby... right before driving a dagger into her child’s heart.
Havil Firlone knelt in the center of the grand chamber, swallowed by darkness. Velvet curtains sealed off every hint of light, and black-embroidered walls embraced the silence like a coffin that refused to be opened. The air was thick, pressing against his chest—each breath felt like it cost a life.
He bowed deeply. "That’s what happened, my Lady," he whispered, his voice nearly drowned by fear. "Sylphia managed to awaken her spirit... then vanished."
Silence struck—cold and sharp, like midnight fog creeping into the bones.
"Not only did she awaken her spirit..." the voice followed, barely a sigh, laced with disappointment. "...you also lost her."
Suddenly, the air behind Havil’s head buzzed. A black bow hovered slowly, emanating a crushing aura that pierced the soul. Its tip pointed at the back of his neck, unmoving—yet alive, waiting for permission to strike.
"Find her now... or your body will pay the price of your failure."
Havil clenched his fists. With a subtle nod, he began drawing shadows from beneath himself, wrapping them around his body until he melted into the dark. The only trace of him left was the chill in the air that hadn’t faded yet.
The figure on the obsidian throne remained still. Her fingers tapped the armrest, slowly—an eerie rhythm only anger could understand. Her gaze pierced the wall, far... toward a place unseen by any eye.
"Why is it so hard to erase you... Sylphia?