The Crimson Legacy (In Progress)

Chapter 3: First Move

—

The chamber was dimly lit, the only light coming from the flickering flames of a dying fire in the hearth. Shadows danced on the stone walls, shifting and twisting like restless spirits, but the figure seated at the large, carved chair remained still, unmoved by the gloom. A heavy cloak draped over his broad shoulders, the deep crimson fabric almost indistinguishable from the surrounding darkness. His gloved fingers tapped rhythmically on the armrest, a patient predator awaiting his prey.

Suddenly, a soft flutter echoed through the still air. The raven landed silently on the windowsill, its black eyes gleaming as it tilted its head, watching the man as if awaiting recognition. Without looking up, the figure lifted his hand, and the raven hopped to the edge of his chair, a rolled parchment tied to its leg.

He took the message with deliberate slowness, untying the thin strip of leather that held the scroll in place. His lips curled into a faint smirk as he unrolled the letter. Fox had been true to his name—swift, cunning, and efficient. The scout had proven useful time and time again, and this message was no different.

The letter was short, written in a hurried but precise hand. It contained everything the leader needed to know: Clara—Shade as she was called in whispers—was in Central Plaza. More importantly, she was after the Tome of Eldrid.

His smirk deepened as he read, his dark eyes narrowing with amusement. So, she finally reveals herself.

He rose slowly from his chair, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the room. Clara had always been careful, elusive, slipping through his grasp time and time again, but this... This was the opportunity he had been waiting for. She had made a move. She was no longer hidden in the shadows.

Clutching the parchment in one hand, he strode to the adjoining hall, where one of his men waited. A figure stood at attention, his armor dark as the night, his face obscured by a hood. The air in the room seemed to tense as the man approached.

Without a word, the leader handed him the letter, his eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction. "She's been found," he said, his voice a low, commanding murmur. "Central Plaza. She seeks the Tome."

The man in armor glanced at the parchment, then nodded silently.

"Follow her," the leader continued, his smirk never fading.


"I want to know everything. Every step she takes, every word she speaks. But do not reveal yourself. She must not know we're watching. Let her think she's ahead of us." He paused, his voice dropping into a near whisper. "I want her to lead us to the Tome, and when she does.." He paused and left an evil smirk. "Give me her head."

Before their conversation ends, the leader leans in again as he was forgetting something to add. He whispered something important to the man, and finally turning his back.

The figure nodded again, slipping the letter into his belt before turning to leave.

The leader watched as his subordinate vanished into the shadows, his smirk replaced with a cold, calculating expression. Clara—Shade—thought she was chasing something elusive. What she didn't know was that she was the one being hunted. Soon enough, the Tome would be his, and with it, the power that had eluded him for so long.

The raven fluttered its wings and cawed again. The man returned to his seat by the fire, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the stone as he stared into the glowing embers.

"Soon," he whispered. "Very soon."

—

The night in Eldrid was cool, the remnants of a recent rain glistening on the slick cobblestones. Clara moved through the narrow alleys with quiet precision, her cloak trailing behind her, the edges damp from the rain. Her silver hair, mostly hidden beneath her hood, caught the dim light of distant lanterns as she made her way deeper into the heart of the city. 

 The Tome of Eldrid was within reach, and Clara could feel its pull deep in her bones. It hummed with ancient power, an undeniable force that whispered promises of answers—answers she had been chasing for years.

By her side, Zephyr walked in near silence, his steps light and deliberate, though his presence was far less subdued. His eyes gleamed with a mix of excitement and focus, and Clara knew his mind was already racing ahead, plotting their next move.



"We're almost there," Clara murmured, her scarlet eyes scanning the darkened street ahead. Her every movement was fluid, her steps light but deliberate. She moved with the precision of a predator, her senses sharp and alert to the smallest sound or shift in the air.

Zephyr nodded, his focus split between their surroundings and the plan forming in his mind. The guards were everywhere, stationed around the building that housed the Tome. They had to get past them without drawing attention, and that was where his deceptive powers came into play.

"There are too many," Zephyr whispered, his eyes flicking toward the entrance where two guards stood on alert. He could feel more lurking in the shadows nearby. "But I can handle this."



Clara gave him a sharp glance.

Zephyr smirked, his confidence returning. "Watch."

He stepped forward, his fingers twitching slightly, and the air around them rippled. Clara felt the faint shift in energy as Zephyr's power took hold, bending reality like clay in his hands. The guards stood unaware, their eyes scanning the empty street ahead, oblivious to the illusion weaving itself into place.

Clara watched as two figures—perfect replicas of herself and Zephyr—emerged from the shadows. They moved swiftly, just as she and Zephyr had, their forms indistinguishable from the originals. The clones ran out into the open, making no effort to conceal themselves.

Immediately, the guards shouted, their eyes widening as they caught sight of the doppelgängers.

"Go after them!" one guard bellowed, drawing his sword as he sprinted after the fleeing clones. The others followed suit, their boots pounding against the cobblestones as they charged down the street, leaving the entrance unguarded.

Clara's lips pressed into a thin, unimpressed line. She watched as the guards, duped by Zephyr's illusion, sprinted after the doppelgangers without hesitation.

His trick had worked, but she couldn't help but find it a lousy solution—messy, reliant on false images instead of clean execution. Still, it was effective, and they needed it to move forward.

"Impressive," she whispered, though her tone was flat, as if stating a fact more than offering praise.

Zephyr chuckled, though her lack of enthusiasm clearly didn't escape him. "Not your style, I know, but it's better than a trail of bodies. For now."

Clara's gaze flicked back to the alley ahead. She wasn't interested in bickering over methods. As long as they reached the Tome, she didn't care how they got there.

They made their way toward the hidden entrance, slipping through the shadows like wraiths. Clara's every step was purposeful, her hand resting on the hilt of her dagger, ready to strike at the slightest hint of danger. Zephyr kept his eyes and ears trained on the streets behind them, listening for any sign of pursuit.

As they reached the darkened door that led into the heart of the building, Zephyr worked quickly to unlock it, his adept fingers moving over the mechanism. Clara kept watch, her senses keen, but the guards had taken the bait, their pursuit of the illusions echoing in the distance.

The door clicked open, and they slipped inside.


The room they entered was cold and silent, the faint scent of damp stone lingering in the air. It was pitch-black, but Clara's instincts guided her steps. Zephyr followed close behind, his breathing barely audible. The Tome was near, its power humming just beneath the surface. Clara could feel it pulling at her, urging her deeper into the building's labyrinthine halls.

But Clara's senses felt something off.

They moved swiftly through the narrow passageways, their footsteps nearly soundless. Clara's dagger remained poised in her hand, ready for the first sign of danger. Zephyr's eyes flicked around the dark corners, his power ready to weave illusions if needed.

Then, without warning, the lights blazed to life.

Clara froze, her instincts screaming danger. Zephyr's breath hitched as they looked around, their eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness.

They were surrounded.