Two Days Later - The Argent Spire's Summit Club
The Summit was the pinnacle of Sky-Crest's social scene, a crystalline restaurant and observatory revolving slowly at the top of the city's central spire. Here, the scions of the Arcane Dynasties dined among the clouds, the starfield their ceiling, the sprawling city-lights their carpet.
Tonight, it hosted a "Pre-Labyrinth Gala." The air was perfumed with exotic blossoms and the subtle, expensive scent of charged aether. Illusory sky-whales swam through the transparent dome. The clink of crystal and the murmur of cultivated conversation formed a backdrop to the real currency being traded: influence, alliances, and displays of power.
Status Check - Arlan Thorne (Disguised)
Age: 17 (Appears 20)
Disguise: Kael Riven, distant scion of a fallen mercantile house (fabricated by Dorian).
Appearance: Sandy brown hair, green eyes, a faint scar on the jaw—the work of the Malleable Visage and a minor, sustained Umbral illusion. His build was slightly altered, his movements less predatory, more languidly arrogant.
Order/Rank: Suppressed to 3rd Order, Rank 3. His true power was cloaked behind the Umbral Shroud and the innate dampening of his Negation Zone.
He wore borrowed finery—a dark blue suit of night-spider silk, fitted perfectly by Dorian's tailor contact. In his pocket was a counterfeit invitation chip, good enough to pass a cursory scan. He held a flute of sparkling lunar wine, untouched.
His Umbral Sight painted the room in a cascade of status windows. It was a gallery of privilege and power.
Status Check - Heir Apparent Lian Emberheart (Cousin to Borin)
Age: 21
Order: 4th (Aura)
Rank: 3 (Early)
Class: Flame Warden
Emotional State: Smug/Calculating.
Note: Carries Gate Token (confirmed via mana resonance). Security: Two 4th Order House Guards.
Status Check - Lady Anya Frostweaver
Age: 19
Order: 4th (Captain)
Rank: 2 (Early)
Class: Frost Sentinel
Emotional State: Aloof/Amused.
Note: Token secured in dimensional bracelet. Aura emits passive cold.
His primary targets were elsewhere. He saw Borin Emberheart first, holding court near a fountain of liquid sunlight. Borin was louder, more boastful than ever, his Inferno Berserker aura a brash, aggressive red that pushed at the genteel atmosphere. He wore his Gate Token openly—a chunk of raw star-metal on a thick chain around his neck, a blatant display.
Status Check - Borin Emberheart
Age: 18
Order: 4th (Aura)
Rank: 5 (Mid)
Class: Inferno Berserker
Mana: 4800/5200
Emotional State: Triumphant/Vengeful.
Note: Gate Token worn openly. Security: Two 4th Order House Guards (Rank 2-3) at perimeter. Emotionally volatile.
Across the room, near a glacial sculpture that wept real frost, stood his second target: Jax Swiftwind, Enya's brother and leader of the Celestial Blades. He was quieter, speaking in low, intense tones with a man whose status window made Arlan's blood run cold.
Status Check - Jax Swiftwind
Age: 20
Order: 4th (Aura)
Rank: 4 (Early-Mid)
Class: Sky-Cutter
Emotional State: Zealous/Resolved.
Note: Token in inner jacket pocket. Security: Personal skill and proximity to...
Status Check - Corvus Vale
Age: Appears 30s
Order: 5th (General)
Rank: 2 (Early)
Class: Shadow-Sergeant (Silent Accord Variant)
Emotional State: Cold/Assessing/Obedient.
Note: Silent Accord Liaison. High threat. Psionic dampeners detected.
An Accord General, here, mingling openly. The rot was deep.
Arlan's plan was simple, brutal, and relied on the arrogance of his targets and perfect timing. He wouldn't fight here. He would orchestrate a distraction and a snatch.
He caught Selene's eye across the room. She was breathtaking.
Disguised as a mysterious heiress from a distant land, she wore a gown of deep crimson that seemed to drink the light, leaving only hints of her form. Her hair was an intricate cascade of dark waves, and her eyes, enhanced by a minor glamour, glowed a more subdued amethyst. She held herself with a regal, untouchable air, the Crimson Weave Mistress perfectly playing her part. Her Sanguine Silence aura was carefully controlled, a faint whisper that made those near her subconsciously speak quieter.
She gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. Her emotional aura, visible only to his Umbral Sight, was a knot of focused intensity and… concern? For him. It sent another strange twinge through him.
It was time.
Arlan drifted to a secluded balcony overlooking the infinite city lights. He palmed a small, crystalline device—a Mana-Feedback Spiker, another of Dorian's creations. He placed it on the balcony's railing, hidden by a potted star-fern. It was set to a short timer.
He then moved back inside, positioning himself within sight of both Borin and the glacial sculpture display.
The spiker detonated.
It didn't explode. It released a short, sharp pulse of discordant mana that resonated with the carefully balanced environmental spells of the Summit.
The sunlight fountain stuttered, spraying droplets of volatile solar plasma. The glacial sculpture groaned, cracks spreading with sounds like snapping bones. The illusory sky-whales flickered and distorted into nightmare shapes. The crowd gasped, a ripple of genuine alarm spreading through the cultivated calm.
In that unified moment of distracted astonishment, two things happened simultaneously.
Near the glaciers, Selene moved. Her glide was pure predator, hidden by the distorted light and the crowd's turned heads. As Jax turned towards the disturbance, her hand—moving with vampiric speed and witch-born precision—brushed past his jacket. A whisper of Vita-Arcana mana, subtle as a sigh, unpicked the inner pocket's clasp. Her fingers slid in, extracted the smooth, silvery disc of his Gate Token, and replaced it with a perfect, inert fake crafted by Dorian. She was three people away before Jax's hand even instinctively moved to pat his pocket.
Near the fountain, Arlan acted. He didn't go for Borin. He went for the floor.
A tiny, precise Spatial Rend, no larger than a coin, manifested on the polished, magically-reinforced crystal floor directly under the heel of Borin's left house guard. The guard's weight came down, and the micro-tear in reality severed the structural integrity and magical reinforcement of that precise point.
The guard's foot plunged through the floor up to his calf with a sickening crunch of crystal and bone. He yelled, stumbling, his companion turning to help.
Borin, startled by the noise and commotion behind him, turned his back to the crowd for a critical two seconds.
Arlan Voidstepped.
A two-meter step, from behind a potted twilight orchid to directly behind Borin. His hand, sheathed in Umbral shadows that drank the light and attention, snatched the heavy chain from around Borin's neck. A simultaneous, subtle pulse of Chilling Touch numbed the skin of Borin's neck and collarbone, delaying the sensation of loss.
He Voidstepped back, appearing three conversational groups away, near an exit to the lower lounge, as if he'd been there all along.
The whole dual operation took less than five seconds.
Borin spun back around, hand going to his neck, finding it bare. His face cycled from confusion to dawning horror to apocalyptic rage. "MY TOKEN!" The roar was accompanied by a burst of Ragefire aura that singeed the nearby drapes and sent several guests stumbling back.
Chaos erupted. Dynastic guards surged. Jax, patting his pocket, felt the fake token and frowned, not yet realizing the switch but sensing something was off.
Corvus Vale, the Accord General, stood perfectly still amidst the panic. His eyes, like chips of obsidian, swept the room with methodical, inhuman calm. His gaze passed over Arlan, lingered for a half-second too long on his disguised face, then moved on, finally settling on Selene. He stared at her retreating back, his head tilting slightly.
He's suspicious, Arlan thought, his own cold calm settling deeper. But he has no proof, only instinct.
Alarms sounded—both magical and physical. The Summit went into lockdown, shimmering containment fields sealing the exits. But the tokens were already gone, shielded in lead-lined, aura-dampening pouches Dorian had provided.
Arlan and Selene made separate, calm exits in the general confusion, using the panic and their impeccable disguises to blend into the stream of evacuating guests. They didn't run. They walked with the offended dignity of minor nobility inconvenienced by the rabble.
An hour later, they reconvened in a pre-arranged safe-room in a mid-level hab-block—a clean, anonymous space Dorian had rented under another layer of false identities.
Selene let out a long breath she seemed to have been holding since the gala, the regal disguise melting away to reveal the fierce, tired young woman beneath. She tossed Jax's token—a silvery disc etched with a stylized gate—onto the table. It clinked softly. "One."
Arlan placed Borin's token—the chunk of rough, warm star-metal on its broken chain—beside it with a heavier thud. "Two."
Dorian, patched in via secure comm, crowed with delight. "Beautiful! The security feeds are glorious! Borin is having a meltdown worthy of a volcano, accusing everyone from the waitstaff to the Frostweaver heiress. Jax is being quiet, but he looks like he swallowed a lemon—he knows something's wrong. Security is chasing ghosts, questioning all the wrong people. No links to us, no traces."
Kaelen, who had been monitoring external security, grunted over the comm. "Clean hits. What now?"
"Now," Arlan said, picking up the warm star-metal token, feeling its connection to the distant, waiting Gate thrum against his palm, "we prepare. We have less than two weeks until the Melee. Selene, you'll use Jax's token. I'll use Borin's."
"And me?" Enya asked from the screen. She was back in her family's estate, looking pale but resolved.
Arlan looked at her. "You keep your legitimate invitation. Go in as yourself. Be our eyes and ears on the inside of their group. Report what you see, the alliances they form, the routes they take. If you get a chance to hinder your brother or the Accord without exposing yourself, take it."
She nodded, her determination firming and emotions showing admiration for Arlan. "I can do that."
Selene looked at the tokens, then at Arlan. In the quiet of the safe-house, without the masks, the gravity of it settled between them. "We're really doing this. Walking into their sanctum, surrounded by enemies, with forged keys."
"We're not walking in," Arlan corrected, his voice low. He met her gaze, and for a moment, the glacial killer was gone, replaced by the boy who had trusted her with his secrets in the academy's shadows. "We're breaking in. And once inside, we'll take everything they hold dear. Their inheritances. Their confidence. Their future." He paused, then added, softer, "Together."
The word hung in the air. Together. After months of believing him dead, of mourning and hardening herself, it was a promise Selene hadn't realized she needed to hear. Her stern expression softened, and she gave a single, sharp nod. "Together."
Arlan could feel Aethelbrand on his back, a silent promise of severance. The Aethelian Labyrinth awaited.
He would make it the stage for their reckoning.