Heir of Cinders [FADING EMBERS #1] - ON HOLD

26.2 - A Subtle Crescendo

The fragrance of fresh flowers and putrid odor of rotting flesh intermingled in the air, slinking through the twin holes cut out in Feal's mask and into his nostrils. The lingering stench reminded him of a run-down funeral home, conjuring with it a number of unpleasant memories he would rather not recall..

Senator Forseti was lying on a canopied bed surrounded by a bouquet of pristine white flowers, their beauty failing to mask the horrid sight. Describing Forseti as sickly was certainly an understatement. Fealtanis began to wonder if he had come all the way here for naught, for his target already seemed to resemble a corpse. The hyrrean's skin was blackened, patches of unhealed wounds peeling away on his stubby forearm. A long tube was attached to the base of his throat, connecting it to a piece of bronze medical equipment.

Feal's ears picked up the sound of his short, ragged breathing, which was almost akin to a broken whistle — a telltale sign that his target was still, in fact, alive.

"The Black Rot. A fitting end to a rotten man like him," Magni whispered behind him, covering his nose from the awful stench. "Once the decay and rot spread to the lungs—"

"Then, you might as well pray to a deity of your choosing."

Feal's body jolted in surprise as he whipped his head towards the source of the noise, mentally cursing himself for his negligence. His eyes fell upon an old hyrrean sitting on a rather tall chair in one of the darkest corners of the room. A braided, greying beard covered his body, as if that had concealed his presence in the room. The stranger smiled, placidly, revealing a set of missing teeth.

"It's surprising, isn't it? That he managed to live with his body slowly rotting away."

The yildean instinctively unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the source of the voice. His golden eyes glimmered in the candlelight, the wrinkles around them deepening with amusement. He laughed. "Is this how youngsters like you treat your elders nowadays?"

The masked man narrowed his eyes, unsure what to make of the hyrrean's strangely calm demeanor towards them. Was he daft?

Either way, he was a witness and witnesses had to be dealt with, no matter how unfortunate it might be. Fealtanis did not relish in the thought of what he had to do next. The poor soul had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like all the others who had fallen that night.

Wordlessly, he raised his blade, preparing himself to cut down the old man.

The old man only just realized the malicious intention that the masked figure had. His eyes were flooded with terror and his toothy grin vanished behind his beard. "No, wait, you can't just—"

"Fealtanis, wait." Magni pulled the edge of his cloak. "I don't think we should kill him."

"Listen to your friend here. I'm just a humble caretaker of the dying senator over there," the old man said as he nervously chuckled. "Besides, I've been expecting you, and this is the greeting I get?"

"What do you mean 'waiting for me'?"

Feal moved closer towards the bearded man, the tip of his blade almost brushing against his throat. His mind raced.

This is a trap, he thought. How could he have been so stupid? There was something definitely wrong with the lack of guards, the eerie stillness of the mansion, this man who seemed able to conceal his presence from his finely-tuned senses... that accursed pale woman.

Why did he let her get to him once more? He could have seen all of this coming, could have prevented it.

The old man raised both of his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Will you please get your sword away from my throat?"