ECLIPSED

CHAPTER 21

The Kingdom of Myranis was known far and wide not for its wealth in gold, but for something far more coveted, its seasonings. Traders from distant lands came to Myranis to obtain its rare spices, herbs, and aromatic blends, prized for their ability to transform even the most basic meals into feasts fit for royalty. Fields of fragrant basil, lavender, peppercorn, and star anise blanketed the countryside, filling the air with their heady scents.

Yet, as beautiful as Myranis was on the surface, darkness thrived deep within its heart. Beneath the bustling markets, hidden in alleys and the shadowy cracks between streets, were those who craved more than spices they craved power, control, and dominance.

This was the realm of an organization known only in whispers: The Claw. For decades, they had quietly orchestrated thefts and raids, targeting the elven borders and stirring the fires of tension between humans and elves. Some said they sought revenge for old grudges. Others claimed it was greed. But only a few knew the truth. The Claw existed to seize power, and their leader, the man known only as The Hollow Fang, was determined to see the elves brought low.

The Hollow Fang sat at the head of a dimly lit room, surrounded by men draped in black cloaks. A single candle flickered on the table, casting shifting shadows across the cracked walls. The scent of stale wine and dust filled the air.

The man lounged in a high-backed chair, one leg draped lazily over the armrest. His dark eyes gleamed beneath his hood, sharp as the blade concealed at his side. A scar ran across his lips, giving his smile a cruel twist. On the table before him was a map of the elven borders, marked with notes and symbols that only he could decipher.

He raised a half-empty bottle of wine to his lips, savoring the sharp taste. Around him, his men stood silent and tense, knowing the penalty for failure. One of the bottles on the floor was still smeared with blood from the last servant who had displeased him.

A pair of assassins knelt before him, their cloaks damp with sweat and soot. Their heads were bowed low, too terrified to meet his gaze.

"You failed," the Hollow Fang said softly, his voice smooth yet dangerous, like silk wrapped around steel.

The room seemed to grow colder with those two words.

The lead assassin shifted nervously on his knees. "W-we had the perfect shot, my lord," he stammered. "The tent was surrounded. But... but we didn't expect him to be there."

"Who?" The Hollow Fang asked, voice deceptively calm. He leaned forward just slightly, fingers drumming on the bottle in his hand.

The assassin swallowed hard. "Azrath," he whispered.

At that name, the Hollow Fang's expression darkened. His fingers clenched around the wine bottle. Then, in a sudden motion, he hurled it across the room. It shattered against the wall and a shard struck one of the servants, cutting deep into his cheek. The man yelped in pain, falling to the floor as blood trickled down his face.

"Azrath..." The Fang muttered under his breath, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his scarred lips.

The other men shifted uncomfortably, their eyes cast downward, dreading what might come next.

"I knew he would interfere sooner or later," the Hollow Fang mused, more to himself than to the men around him. "That damned elf." He reached for another bottle of wine, pulling the cork out with his teeth. "Just like his father... always in the way."

One of the assassins glanced nervously at him. "You—You knew his father, my lord?"

The Hollow Fang chuckled, a sound devoid of humor. "Knew him? I killed him." He leaned back, taking a long sip of wine, savoring the memory like a fine vintage. "Right there on the battlefield. I still remember the way his blood felt, warm on my hands." His eyes gleamed with sadistic satisfaction. "And now his son thinks he can stop me?" He shook his head, smirking. "He has no idea what's coming."

The assassins lowered their heads even further, as if hoping to melt into the floor.

After a moment of silence, the Hollow Fang stood and turned toward the large map on the wall, tracing the borders with a gloved finger. "They'll try to unite now, Elves and humans, working together." His lip curled in disgust. "How quaint."

He set his wine down with a deliberate clink. "We won't give them the chance."

He turned back to the assassins, his eyes burning with cold malice. "Double the men at every crossing. I want eyes on every path, every village, every tree between here and the borderlands. If anyone tries to move against us, I want to know before they draw their first breath."

The lead assassin nodded hastily. "Yes, my lord. It will be done."

"And send word to the Council," the Hollow Fang added, his voice like a serpent's hiss. "Remind them where their loyalties lie and what happens if they fail me."

The room fell silent as the assassins scrambled to their feet and hurried to obey. The Hollow Fang returned to his chair, pouring himself another glass of wine.

"Fools," he muttered to himself. "All of them."

He stared into the crimson liquid, his thoughts swirling like a storm. He had waited too long, sacrificed too much, to let peace ruin his plans now. This was the moment he had been preparing for the moment to seize control, once and for all.

TheHollow Fang lifted the glass to his lips, savoring the bitter taste of power. "Letthe games begin."