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

28.

Makaela and the group of magicians made their way outside of the meeting hall. They stood beneath the shadows of the iron statues around them with their faces pointed at the forest ahead.

Fires crackling and people shouting in the distance hit her ears. Fear squeezed her heart, nearly dropping her to her knees. The Order of the Black Lotus had breached Hodvekt. But that shouldn't have been possible. Not only should it have been impossible, but it shouldn't have even been attempted.

Thorian wasn't stupid enough to attack House Brynjir at their capital.

Her eyes widened.

It wasn't stupidity. Not at all. It was desperation-the same desperation that inspired his attack on her first home. The same desperation he used to murder her parents.

Her hands shook at her sides. She balled them into fists. It was the only way to get them to stop.

Achilles stepped in front of the group with his sword tightly in his group. Despite it being designed for two hands, he held it comfortably in one. He stood tall, eyes narrowed toward the treeline ahead.

Seconds later, they arrived.

Rising from the shadows created by the pine trees were five masked Shades. Their robes blended in with the darkness behind them. The afternoon sun above glinted off their silver masks. Igor and Ulrich were among them. She didn't recognize the two masks on either side of them.

She did, however, know the identity of the Shade leading them.

He wore a jackal's face. A silver braid spilled down the shoulder of his robe. Bluish-white skin emerged from the sleeves of his uniform. Even from where she stood, Makaela could see the purple mark burning in his hand.

Thorian Tedorof. The Black Lotus.

A powerful breeze ripped through the forest. Leaves rustled in the wind and birds flocked to the mountains in the distance for safety. Dark clouds gathered above their heads, swirling and folding into each other as the Shades stalked forward. The light had been stolen, strangled by the inescapable darkness brought by the tempest forming above. Rain started to fall. The cold droplets felt like acid on Makaela's dark skin.

Her father always told her rain knew the best time to fall.

Thorian stepped forward, dropping his hood. He pushed his silver braid to his back before bringing a hand to his mask. It vanished, revealing his pale face. The veiny, black lines starting from his clavicle had spread to just beneath his jaw.

Makaela took a shaky step backward. Her blood curdled. Air quickly vanished from her lungs; her bottom lip trembled at the very sight of his ghoulish face. She felt the same way she did that night he arrived at her home all those years ago.

The dread and confusion and anger she felt resurfaced, an amalgamation of emotions rising in her chest.

No...no...not again. Please not again.

Beside her, Sebastian took her hand. He kept his eyes on his father. She could practically see the hate rolling off his shoulders.

Achilles took a few steps forward.

Thorian clasped his bony hands across his midsection. "Ah, Achilles. It's nice to see you again. It's been far too long."

"Not long enough."

The corners of his mouth twitched downward into a frown. Clicking his tongue, he began pacing in front of the dark magicians behind him. They stared ahead, unmoving like statues in the howling wind.