The Bastion's eastern watchtower overlooked the Veiled Gardens like a sentinel carved from the stone itself. From its uppermost balcony, Captain Vaelor stood alone, arms folded behind his back, eyes narrowed as he watched the distant horizon where the city’s spires blurred into the twilight.

  Below, the leylines pulsed faintly—erratic now. Unnatural.

  He could feel it in his bones: the shift. The balance that once anchored Silvermoon was slipping. And still, the council delayed. Calthira whispered secrets behind closed doors. The Guardians followed uncertain orders. And now… now she had disappeared into the depths with him.

  Vaelor’s jaw clenched as he turned away from the view. Behind him, two trusted officers stood silently in the shadows of the tower—men who had served him long before politics fouled the city’s command structure.

  “They say the High Lady has invoked the Deepwatch,” one of them said quietly. “That she’s using the old wards.”

  Vaelor’s lip curled. “She acts like a queen, not a servant of the city. She seals records, conceals threats, shelters strangers in our sanctums… and all the while, the leylines rot beneath our feet.”

  “And the outsider?”

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Vaelor paced slowly across the room, boots ringing on the stone. “He should’ve never left his cell.”

  “He’s in the Archives now,” the other officer added. “With the commander.”

  At that, Vaelor stopped. His hand rested on the hilt of his blade. “She’s compromised.”

  One of the men hesitated. “She’s loyal to Silvermoon.”

  “No,” Vaelor said coldly. “She’s loyal to him.”

  He turned fully now, facing them.

  “I served in the outer wars,” he said, voice sharp and low. “I saw cities fall to cults like the Umbral Court—not because they were stronger. But because their enemies hesitated. Let rot spread through their foundations. By the time anyone acted, it was too late.”

  He approached the small side table and unfurled a map of Silvermoon, marked not with Guardian patrol routes, but with leyline anomalies, sewer paths, and unregistered access points into the city’s lower levels.

  “I’m done waiting for permission.”

  The two officers exchanged a glance.

  “You’re acting against the High Lady’s orders?”

  Vaelor looked them both in the eye. “No. I’m acting in the city’s defense. The Guardians have lost their way—caught in politics and shadows. It’s time someone remembered the true meaning of vigilance.”

  He pointed to the lower edge of the map—one of the old reliquary tunnels that bypassed the Veiled Gardens entirely.

  “We strike tonight. We cut through the last intact leyline channels. If the Court is hiding beneath the city, we’ll drag them into the light. And if the outsider stands in the way…”

  He didn’t finish the sentence.

  He didn’t have to.

  His men saluted quietly and slipped from the tower.

  Vaelor remained at the balcony a moment longer, watching the city breathe beneath him. Somewhere below, the rot festered. The power stirred.

  And Narianna… she had chosen her path.

  Now, he would choose his.