The parchment in Rihan's hand felt heavier than steel. The inked symbol of the Eclipse burned into his mind, a reminder of the cult that had already destroyed so much—and was still moving unseen beneath the surface of this grand kingdom.
Back at the palace quarters, he sat in silence, staring at it under the flickering light of an oil lamp.
Lyra was the first to speak. "That man… he knew about us. About the Duke. About the Cult. How?"
"Informants," Kael muttered, leaning against the wall with arms crossed. "The streets have more eyes than the palace ever will. If the Cult is here, they're not just hiding. They're recruiting."
Mira tilted her head, her sharp silver eyes narrowing. "He wasn't lying. I could feel it in his voice. Fear, yes. But also urgency. If even commoners whisper of the Eclipse, it means they've already spread too far."
Rihan finally set the parchment down. His jaw was tight. "And the Duke… he knew. I could see it in his smile. He's either working with them, or using them. Either way, this city's rotten roots go deeper than we thought."
The group fell silent, the weight of the realization hanging heavy in the air.
---
A Royal Banquet
The following evening, the palace hosted a grand banquet in honor of the heroes. The hall glittered with gold and silver, nobles draped in silks and jewels parading like peacocks.
But beneath the laughter and the clinking of goblets, Rihan felt only suspicion. Every smile seemed painted. Every toast, hollow.
The King sat on his throne at the head of the hall, his expression unreadable as he watched the nobles mingle. To his right, Duke Varengar sat casually, his serpent brooch gleaming, eyes constantly sweeping the room.
Elira leaned closer to Rihan, whispering, "They're watching us. Testing us."
"I know," Rihan murmured back. "Keep your guard up."
Halfway through the feast, a noblewoman with a sharp gaze approached them. Her gown was embroidered with the sigil of a white hawk, her bearing both elegant and commanding.
"You must be the adventurers," she said smoothly, bowing her head slightly. "I am Lady Seliora, of House Veynar."
Rihan nodded politely. "A pleasure."
Her eyes lingered on him, then shifted to Lyra. "Be cautious. Not every hand extended here is a hand of friendship. Some are daggers waiting to plunge."
Before Rihan could reply, she was gone—swept back into the crowd of nobles, her warning echoing like a ghost.
---
The First Crack
Later that night, as the banquet wound down, a sudden commotion rippled through the hall. A servant carrying a tray of wine collapsed, his body convulsing violently on the floor. Gasps filled the room.
Guards rushed forward, but it was too late. The man's body twisted unnaturally, his skin paling, his veins glowing faint purple.
Lyra screamed, recognizing the corruption instantly. "The Abyss!"
In front of everyone, the servant's body burst apart into a grotesque mass of tendrils and fangs—an Abyss-spawn, right in the middle of the King's banquet hall.
Chaos erupted. Nobles screamed, scattering as guards drew their blades.
"Rihan!" Elira shouted.
He was already moving. His sword flared with energy as he charged forward, slashing through a whipping tendril before it could impale a noble. The creature shrieked, its many eyes glowing with unnatural light.
Kael roared, his sword igniting with crimson flame as he hacked through its limbs. Mira's daggers flashed like silver streaks, severing tendons that regenerated seconds later. Elira's arrows pinned its limbs to the marble floor, buying precious seconds.
But the creature was fast, too fast. It tore through guards like paper, its corruption spreading with every strike.
Rihan gritted his teeth. "Damn it—it's stronger than the ones in the dungeon!"
"Because someone fed it!" Lyra shouted, her voice shaking as she raised a barrier to shield fleeing nobles. "This isn't a random infection—it's a weapon!"
At that moment, Rihan's eyes shot toward the high table.
The King was on his feet, his sword drawn, barking orders. But next to him, Duke Varengar sat calmly, sipping his wine, his expression… amused.
Rihan's blood ran cold.
---
A Dangerous Victory
The fight raged across the hall. Marble cracked, chandeliers shattered, and nobles scrambled for safety.
Finally, with a coordinated strike, the group brought the monster down. Kael drove his flaming blade through its core while Rihan unleashed a burst of raw energy that tore the corruption apart from the inside. The creature let out a piercing scream before collapsing into a heap of ash and blackened bone.
The hall was silent—shaken, broken, but alive.
Nobles stared in horror at the ashes, whispering furiously.
The King wiped blood from his cheek, his expression grim. "The Abyss… within my very palace."
But Rihan wasn't looking at the King. His gaze was locked on the Duke, who had finally set down his goblet and was now applauding softly.
"Well done," Varengar said smoothly, his smile never faltering. "Truly, heroes worthy of their reputation."
The King's glare snapped toward him. "You—"
But before the confrontation could escalate, Varengar stood and bowed with mocking grace. "Alas, I must depart. I trust the palace guards can handle the aftermath." His eyes flicked briefly to Rihan. "We will speak again… soon."
And then he was gone, leaving only silence and suspicion in his wake.
---
Aftermath
Later, in their quarters, the group gathered again. The air was heavy with unease.
"That wasn't random," Mira said flatly. "The timing, the place… it was staged."
Rihan nodded grimly. "The Duke wanted to send a message. To the King. To us. He's showing that the Cult, the Abyss, the corruption—it's already in his grasp."
Elira's fists tightened. "And the King? He looks like he knows, but can't fight him."
Lyra's voice was small, but steady. "If the throne itself is cracking, then the kingdom will fall. And if the kingdom falls, the Cult will have free reign."
Rihan clenched his sword hilt, his mind made up. "Then we can't just fight monsters anymore. We have to fight shadows. The ones wearing crowns… and the ones hiding behind them."
The oil lamp flickered, casting their faces into shifting light and darkness. Outside, the capital city slept uneasily, unaware that its fate was already being rewritten.