The staircase led to an underground chamber in which a large metal gate stood. It showed a gigantic symbol surrounded by a double rectangular frame.
The symbol itself showed a vertically aligned sword, which formed the backbone of the symbol. The blade ended at the bottom in a small flame shape. Directly above the crossguard was a square with an inverted cross in it. A stylized flame emerged from the sword and the top element was a single, horizontal eye in a diamond. This was reminiscent of the "all-seeing eye", a symbol of knowledge, surveillance, truth and enlightenment.
With a sense of grim determination, Elrond Thane pulled out a key, its shape uncannily similar to the eye in the symbol. He inserted it into the lock with a quiet click, the key turning with surprising ease, and pushed the gates open. The hinges didn't so much as groan, which was surprising given the gate's size.
Beyond the gates, the underground chamber was a stark contrast to the cluttered shop above. The air was cool and dry, the walls lined with smooth, dark stone that gleamed with the reflected light of the torches that burned with an eerie blue-green flame. The floor was a mosaic of polished obsidian, with intricate pattern.
"Well, well," the figure said in a gruff voice that seemed to rumble from the very depths of the earth. "Elrond Thane himself is visiting us. What brings us this honor? A new mission, perhaps?"
Elrond nodded, the candlelight glittering on his glasses. "You guessed right, Dagrin. But it isn't meant for you." He added. "I'm looking for Serenya, have you seen her?"
Dagrin stepped closer, his boots echoing on the cold stone floor. "That bitch? She was here earlier, but no idea where she disappeared to." He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Why does she get all the jobs? Probably because she's so attractive... I hate her for that. Although I have to admit that I've had my thoughts about her too, if you know what I mean."
Elrond's eyes narrowed at the disrespectful tone. "Watch your tongue. Serenya is an asset for all of us." He paused, his hand caressing the hilt of the knife concealed beneath his cloak.
"Watch your tongue?" Dagrin's expression suddenly became more serious. "Don't forget your place Elrond... you are a simple messenger that can lose his life without a second thought if he isn't aware of the way he speaks to certain people..."
"I am aware of my place, Dagrin," he said, his voice as cold as the stone beneath their feet. "But I will remind you of yours. I am a messenger yes, but commissioned by the Council to keep in touch with you Hunters. And you don't want the Council as an enemy... do you?"
The red-haired man took a step back, the fire in his eyes fading slightly. "Oh, fuck you and your Council," he muttered, averting his eyes.
As Dagrin disappeared into the shadows, Elrond felt a strange, almost imperceptible shift in the darkness beside him. It was as if the very fabric of the night had thickened and coalesced into a new form, a living shadow that was suddenly not just a part of the room. A hand, slender and cold, emerged from the inky blackness and rested lightly on his shoulder.
"Interesting conversation," said a voice, soft and feminine, with a hint of amusement. A woman stepped out of the shadows, her eyes sparkling a mischievous violet-silver. Her skin was as pale as moonlight on fresh snow, and her jet-black hair flowed wildly down her back in an almost supernatural abundance.
She wore a tight-fitting black corset of woven black leather. On top of this was a multi-layered, asymmetrical coat skirt made of semi-transparent silk fabric with long, tight-fitting sleeves that ended at the wrists in dusky 'mage flowers'. In addition, skin-tight leggings made of shimmering fabric, almost like liquid obsidian with filigree runes at the base of the thighs.
Her boots were knee-high, made of the finest leather, and were laced up the front with silver laces. Each boot had a silver buckle with a rune that matched the ones on her sleeves.
A tattoo pulsed slightly in black-violet on the back of her shoulder before it faded. It showed a black, spiral-shaped sigil with a closed circle in the center, framed by three inward-curving lines. It was surrounded by runes in a forgotten language.
"Serenya," Elrond said with a sigh of relief. "I've been looking for you. I have a job for you here. It involves a creature that is haunting the city. The client is a man by the name of Aleron Vex, a high-ranking figure in the world of politics."
Her eyes gleamed with interest. "Vex, you say? He's a slippery one." Her voice was like a silken thread weaving through the darkness, hinting at a mind that was as sharp as the dagger sheathed at her side.
"Exactly the same," Elrond confirmed. "This letter has the details." He pulled out a cream-colored envelope, sealed with a crimson wax stamp.
Serenya took it, and her long, slender fingers broke the seal with a delicate snap. She read the contents, her eyes sweeping over the neat writing, and a smile curved her lips. "Ah, interesting," she murmured. "Tell him I accept the assignment and that I'll visit him tomorrow!"
With a flourish of her coat, she vanished into the shadows, leaving Elrond to contemplate the gravity of what had just transpired.
....
October 13, 1879 - 11:20 am. Blackmere Heights.
Serenya stood in front of Aleron Vex's estate. She used the door knocker, which had the shape of a growling gargoyle.
The door was opened by a servant, a mute man with a blind eye. His skin was as pale as a corpse, and his one seeing eye darted around nervously. The eye was milky white, a stark contrast to the darkness of his pupil-less socket. His attire was simple, yet it bore the same air of opulence that seemed to cling to the very stones of the house.
"I am Serenya," she said, her voice smooth. "I have an appointment with Aleron Vex."
The servant nodded and beckoned her inside. His movements were stiff, as if he were a marionette controlled by an unseen hand.
They traversed the winding corridors, the walls lined with tapestries that whispered of battles and romances long lost. The floor was a checkerboard of black and white marble, the squares so large they seemed to stretch on forever like the tiles of a chessboard played by gods. The air grew colder as they approached the room, the scent of lemon smoke and alchemical ink growing stronger.
When they arrived, Aleron Vex was already waiting, ensconced in a high-backed chair. He was dressed in a purple velvet robe that clung to his body like a second skin, the color a stark contrast to the starkness of his surroundings. His smile was polite, but the edges were as sharp as a sharpened blade, hinting at the power that lay beneath the veneer of courtesy.
"Serenya Voss," he said, his voice like honey over gravel. "I'm delighted that you've come. As you know, your reputation precedes you."
Serenya stepped into the room, the heavy door clicking shut behind her. She surveyed the opulent study, her gaze lingering on the shelves of ancient tomes and the intricate crystal decanter filled with a deep amber liquid that glinted in the candlelight. "And I, Mr. Vex, am well aware of the urgency of this matter," she replied.
A brief smile flitted across Aleron's face, his eyes never leaving hers. Then he turned to the table adorned with crystal balls. His hand hovered over the darkened glass of water before he reached for a withered orchid, the petals curling like the pages of an ancient scroll.
"He seems to have a deep interest in mysticism and alchemy... Unusual for someone of his standing." She thought to herself as she continued to watch him.