Chapter 42: The Eyes That Never Sleep
The celebration did not slow.
Music still echoed through the grand halls of the palace—string instruments singing in harmony with enchanted chimes, laughter weaving through the air like silk. Noble voices rose and fell, glasses clinked, dancers spun, and to the world watching from within those walls, the night appeared perfect.
But perfection always cast the darkest shadows.
---
One of the guests slipped away unnoticed.
He was unremarkable by design—middle-aged, modestly dressed, neither too rich nor too plain. A minor council affiliate from a distant province, the sort of man no one remembered speaking to and no one missed once he was gone.
He passed through the palace gates without a word.
The guards nodded, uninterested.
The carriage waiting for him bore no crest.
It rolled into the night.
---
The city beyond the palace glittered with mage-lights and floating sigils, but the carriage did not head toward the illuminated districts. It moved instead into the older quarters—where stone swallowed light, where alleys bent like crooked ribs, and where whispers were louder than law.
The carriage stopped before a building that should not have existed.
From the outside, it looked abandoned—cracked stone, boarded windows, moss crawling up the walls. But as the man approached, sigils briefly flared beneath his boots, then vanished.
The door opened without a sound.
Inside, thirty people waited.
Men and women of varying ages, races, and status—some dressed as merchants, others as priests, scholars, guards, even beggars. But the moment the guest stepped inside, every one of them straightened.
They bowed.
Not shallow. Not polite.
Reverent.
Follower One: "You've returned, Shepherd."
The man nodded once.
Shepherd: "Has anyone followed me?"
Follower Two: "No. The palace eyes are blind tonight."
The Shepherd moved through them, their gazes following him with devotion bordering on fear. He did not linger. He did not waste words. He went straight to the back of the building, where a heavy iron door waited.
It opened to his touch.
---
The office beyond was small, windowless, and suffocating.
Candles burned with unnatural blue flames, illuminating walls etched with symbols older than any known language. At the center stood a stone pedestal, its surface carved into a circular pattern that pulsed faintly—like a heartbeat.
The Shepherd knelt.
He pressed his palm against the pedestal.
The air distorted.
Reality folded inward.
A presence answered.
The flames bent away from the center of the room as if afraid.
Shepherd (bowing his head): "My Lord… I bring a report."
A voice responded—not aloud, but inside the mind, layered and echoing, vast enough to make the soul feel small.
Mysterious Voice: "Speak."
The Shepherd swallowed.
Shepherd: "At the King's palace. During the affinity ceremony."
His voice trembled despite years of devotion.
Shepherd: "The crystal… for less than a second… displayed all affinities."
Silence.
Then—
Mysterious Voice: "Describe."
Shepherd: "Fire. Water. Earth. Air. Light. Dark. Every spectrum. Overlapping. Harmonized."
He clenched his fist.
Shepherd: "I felt it, my Lord. The mana surge. It was real."
The flames flickered violently.
Mysterious Voice: "…And the end?"
Shepherd: "Only Light remained."
A pause.
Long.
Heavy.
Then the presence spoke again, quieter—but infinitely more dangerous.
Mysterious Voice: "The world nearly made the same mistake twice."
The Shepherd dared to lift his eyes.
Shepherd: "My Lord… could it be—?"
The air crushed him.
Not physically.
Existentially.
Mysterious Voice: "Do not speak her name."
The pressure lifted.
The Shepherd gasped, bowing even lower.
Shepherd: "Forgive me."
Mysterious Voice: "You have done well."
Relief washed through him.
Mysterious Voice: "The anomaly confirms my suspicions."
Shepherd: "What are your orders?"
The answer came without hesitation.
Mysterious Voice: "Infiltrate the King's palace."
Shepherd's eyes widened.
Mysterious Voice: "Send men as workers. Cooks. Gardeners. Stable hands. Scribes."
The pedestal glowed brighter.
Mysterious Voice: "I want eyes on the King's bastard at all times."
Shepherd: "Prince Daniel Evercrest?"
The voice sharpened.
Mysterious Voice: "Call him nothing."
Shepherd bowed deeply.
Shepherd: "As you command."
Mysterious Voice: "My followers already exist in every kingdom."
Images flashed through the Shepherd's mind—temples, academies, guilds, armies.
Mysterious Voice: "You were placed to be early."
A pause.
Mysterious Voice: "To be first."
The Shepherd's voice shook with awe.
Shepherd: "Is this… the one you warned us about?"
The presence did not answer immediately.
When it did, its tone was almost… afraid.
Mysterious Voice: "If she awakens again…"
The room darkened.
Mysterious Voice: "…this world will remember the truth."
The Shepherd nodded fervently.
Shepherd: "We will not fail you."
The connection severed.
The candles returned to normal.
The pressure vanished.
The Shepherd remained kneeling for several moments, sweat dripping down his spine.
Then he rose.
---
Outside the office, the thirty followers looked to him.
Shepherd: "The Watch begins."
They did not ask questions.
They dispersed immediately—melting into shadows, streets, roles they had practiced for years.
The Shepherd looked once more toward the sealed door.
Shepherd (whispering): "We won't let her awaken again."
---
Far away.
Beyond kingdoms.
Beyond history.
The mysterious presence lingered alone in a void of his own making.
He stood before a vast mural carved from living stone.
It depicted a woman.
Silver hair.
Eyes that held stars.
Hands raised not in destruction—but in creation.
Her children stood behind her.
All of them erased.
The immortal figure clenched his fist.
Mysterious Being (to himself): "I erased your truth once, Seraphina."
The void trembled.
Mysterious Being: "I will not allow history to correct itself."
His gaze turned inward—toward the palace, toward a boy with light in his hands and everything else buried beneath it.
Mysterious Being: "Sleep."
The word echoed like a command to fate itself.
Mysterious Being: "My world cannot survive if you awake."
---
Back in the palace, laughter rang out.
Daniel stood among nobles, unaware of the eyes already closing in.
Above him, chandeliers glittered.
Below him, shadows moved.
And somewhere far beyond mortal reach, an immortal fear sharpened its blades.
The party continued.
But the hunt had begun.