The Black Lotus | Vol.1, The Eldenarian Artifacts ✓

7.

Makaela awoke in a dark corridor.

Torches burned on the stone walls, cascading their flickering, reddish-orange light across the stone ground. At the end of the hallway, there was a purple curtain. Three hooded figures stood in front of it, speaking in hushed tones with their heads facing away from her.

The last thing she remembered was falling asleep holding her father's spell book. A scowl gripped her lips. She was supposed to be packing. They were leaving the chateau soon. Running away again from the Order of the Black Lotus.

None of that mattered at the moment, though, for she was elsewhere now.

She peered at the three people on the other end of the hallway. Her eyes narrowed.

This is a dream.

She was no stranger to vivid dreams. They often felt so real she couldn't tell them apart from reality. Countless nights were spent waking up screaming from them, terrified of the visions filling her mind. It sometimes took her minutes to realize she was awake again.

She could already tell this was another one of those dreams.

Her eyes settled on the trio ahead of her. They hadn't noticed her yet. Strange. She wasn't even hiding.

Blinking rapidly, she approached them.

"Where is he?" one of the figures asked. His voice was gruff and coated in a German accent. A silver vulture mask covered his face. "It's almost time to leave."

Makaela sneered.

A Shade.

They all were.

"He went to look for the little prince," another answered. This one was a woman with a rabbit's face covering her own. "The Obscurio is gone. He thinks he took it."

The third Shade, donning the face of an owl, scoffed. "He wouldn't. He's not that bold. Or stupid."

"Who knows what he's capable of. You've seen how he gets during training. Perhaps the stress finally got to him."

"Thorian's going to kill him if he took the ring."

Makaela was standing right in front of them now. They still hadn't seen her.

She was starting to think this wasn't a normal dream.

Usually, they were just a collection of images. A bright sun. A shadowy figure in a dark graveyard. Fangs ripping open bleeding flesh. But never had she been placed into a scene like this. She was observing an entire conversation between Shades.

Something told her this was actually happening, and she was just listening in.

Despite all the questions swirling around inside her head, she kept her attention on the three Shades speaking before her. As they continued to speculate, a loud pop sounded on the other end of the hallway.

Makaela and the three Shades spun around simultaneously.

Black smoke swirled across the stone bricks. The torches flickered and swayed, their flames nearly extinguishing from the sudden burst of cold that entered the corridor. The smoke dissipated, revealing a tall, spindly man. The silver jackal mask covering his face conformed to the sharp angles of his head. A platinum-colored braid fell across his shoulder. Bony, ringless fingers were clasped together across his midsection.

The trio of Shades dropped down to one knee, lowering their heads in submission. He regarded them with a curt nod.

Makaela's lip curled at the sight of him.