Vessel of shadows

Chapter 2: Cracks Appear

Tullek sat in the dimly lit bar of Brambleshade, his large hand wrapped around the cool, slick surface of a mug filled with bitter ale. The low murmur of the bar surrounded him—the laughter and chatter of fellow Beastkin blending into the steady hum of a town alive with newfound freedom. The scent of spiced meat and sour alcohol hung in the air, mingling with the familiar tang of sweat from the soldiers who filled the room.

He took a slow, deliberate swig, the cold liquid burning slightly as it slid down his throat. But no amount of ale could wash away the frustration twisting inside him.

Nineteen years. Nineteen long years since the Dark Massacre of Brambleshade—the day Lukander's reign had truly begun. The irony gnawed at him. Once a symbol of human dominance, the town was now the only Beastkin-run stronghold in all of Terrakos, a fortress of 100,000 Beastkin soldiers and 300,000 non-combatants. Untouchable—or so they said.

Yet, despite the victory, Tullek's patience was wearing thin. The very man who had made all of this possible—Lukander—was now threatening to tear it apart. Lukander had gone too far. The latest slaughter haunted Tullek: Lukander had snuck into a town at random, wreaking havoc on men, women, and children alike. The blood of both the guilty and innocent had soaked the floors, with no survivors left behind.

Tullek slammed his mug onto the table, the dull thud echoing his frustration. The auction house had been notorious for selling Beastkin, but even that didn't justify Lukander's brutality. This wasn't an isolated incident, either—Lukander had been rampaging through towns without any regard for guilt or innocence. Tullek shut his eyes, but the memory of their last argument loomed like a storm cloud, dark and unyielding.

Memory Flashback: The Confrontation with Lukander

In the aftermath of the auction massacre, Lukander had stood tall in the torchlight, blood streaking his armor, his expression eerily serene. That cold grin—so unlike the man Tullek once knew—stirred a deep anger in him.

"Lukander, not everyone there was an enemy," Tullek had bellowed, the scent of iron thick in the air. "Some treated their slaves with dignity, yet you butchered them all!"

Lukander hadn't flinched. His once fiery eyes were now cold, distant. "It's a statement," he said calmly. "I want them to fear me. If a few innocents die, so be it."

Tullek's rage boiled over. He grabbed Lukander's shoulders, his voice cracking. "Children died by your hand! Do you even understand that? Your violence isolates us further! Who will stand with us now, when you're out there like a rabid beast, killing indiscriminately?"

For a moment, Tullek had hoped his words might reach him. But Lukander only laughed—a hollow, bitter sound.

"I'm not in the mood to argue, Tullek," Lukander had said, turning his back and walking away, his boots echoing heavily on the stone floor.

Tullek had stood there, fists clenched, heart pounding, staring after the man who had once been his closest friend—and was now his greatest liability.

Return to Present: Brambleshade Tavern

The memory left a bitter taste in Tullek's mouth, harsher than the ale. He downed the last of it in one gulp, the cold liquid doing little to cool the frustration burning in his chest.

How had it come to this?

Lukander was spiraling. And with the other leaders unwilling to act, it was Tullek's job to manage the fallout.

He stared into the bottom of his empty mug, watching the last drops of ale swirl slowly around the rim. The low buzz of the tavern blurred into the background as his mind drifted, drawn back to the conversation that had changed everything—the one that had set him on the path he now walked. It had been in Duke Eloyd's cellar, months ago. That fateful meeting, when a dangerous plan was laid before him: Project Dawn.