The Crimson Legacy (In Progress)

Chapter 7: Picking up the pieces

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Far away, in the heart of the Shadow Coven's stronghold, the room was dark, lit only by the soft, flickering light of a dying torch. Shadows stretched across the stone walls, their forms twisting and shifting as though alive.

The air was heavy with the weight of secrets, and in the middle of the room sat the leader, his eyes fixed on the raven perched at the edge of the table.

The bird was still, its black feathers gleaming in the dim light. Tied to its leg was a scroll, tightly bound with a dark ribbon.

The leader's cold gaze lingered on the raven for a moment longer before he reached out, untying the parchment from the bird's leg. He unrolled the letter, his expression unreadable.

His eyes scanned the letter, but as he read further, his brow furrowed.

Frostheart is dead. 

The words hit him like a blow, the details of the battle carefully written by one of his trusted eyes—the scout who had witnessed the fight between Frostheart and Shade. The description was thorough, every blow recounted with precision.

The leader's eyes narrowed as he read about the final moments—the raw, terrifying power that Clara had unleashed. The way she had torn Frostheart apart, piece by piece, with an ability that had long been thought extinct. His fingers tightened around the edges of the letter, the faintest hint of shock flickering across his usually stoic expression.

"That form..." he muttered under his breath, his mind racing. Impossible.

He had heard whispers of such power in the distant past, a strength long thought lost to history. The Shadow Coven had hunted for it once, searching for any remnants of the bloodline that could wield such devastating magic. But every trace had disappeared—until now.

As the leader sat back in his chair, his eyes darkened with thought. He had sent Frostheart, one of the most powerful Cryokinetic warriors, confident that even Shade would fall before him.

But not only had she survived, she had displayed something more—something far beyond any reports he had received of her.

"Shade..." he murmured, the weight of the name heavy on his lips. "What secrets are you hiding?"

The implications of what he had read were staggering. If what the letter said was true, then Clara was more dangerous than he had ever anticipated. And that made her a threat unlike any other.

The leader's hand gripped the armrest of his chair as his mind whirred. They had underestimated her. Badly.

His eyes flicked back to the letter. The final lines, penned by the scout, reassured him that the Tome of Eldrid was still being tracked. The scout had not lost sight of it, and it was only a matter of time before the coveted artifact fell into their hands.

The letter concluded with a simple promise: The Tome will be ours soon.

The leader leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming rhythmically on the armrest.
 

Frostheart's death was a setback—a costly one—but it wasn't the end of their plans. Clara had exposed something powerful within her, something the Coven needed to understand. She was more than just an obstacle now. She was the key.

A slow, dark smile curled across his lips.

"Very well, Shade," he whispered to the empty room, his voice filled with cold satisfaction. "You've given us more than we could have hoped for. But the game has just begun."