The Crescent Tavern wasn't what Caelan expected.
From the outside, it looked like any other drinking establishment in the eastern district—weathered wood, dim lanterns, the smell of cheap ale drifting through open windows.
But as the innkeeper led him through a hidden door behind the kitchen, Caelan entered a different world entirely.
The meeting room was empty save for shadows and the scent of memory—magic designed to forget.
Caelan recognised the distinctive smell from his studies of Nullcraft—a subtle mixture of herbs and minerals that, when burned, created vapours that could cloud specific memories.
Not enough to make one forget an entire meeting, but enough to blur details like faces and exact words.
Smart.
The Whisper protected herself not by threatening those who might reveal her secrets, but by ensuring they couldn't remember enough to be dangerous.
"Wait here," the innkeeper said gruffly.
"Touch nothing. She'll know."
When the door closed behind him, Caelan examined the room without actually moving from his position.
A simple table occupied the centre, with two chairs on opposite sides.
No windows, only a single lantern casting light across polished wood.
The walls held no decorations except for a strange symbol painted above the door—a crescent moon pierced by what looked like a dagger.
The air felt thick, almost alive with magic.
Different from the raw power he'd sensed at the Moonlit Crescent temple, more controlled, more purposeful.
He didn't have to wait long.
The lantern flickered, shadows deepened, and suddenly the Whisper sat in the chair opposite him, though he hadn't seen a door open or heard footsteps.
"You came," the Whisper said, voice still that strange blend of masculine and feminine tones speaking in perfect unison.
"Good."
Up close, the shifting shadows that concealed the Whisper's face seemed to move with purpose, forming and reforming patterns that almost resembled expressions.
The effect was unsettling, inhuman.
"Your invitation was difficult to refuse," Caelan replied, taking the seat across from her.
"Though I'm curious why the overseer of the Shrouded Bazaar would take interest in a minor noble from a fallen house."
"Minor?"
The shadows rippled in what might have been amusement.
"House Albrecht once stood among the seven great families of Velderra. It's fall was recent, its power merely dormant, not destroyed."
"You know much about my family."
"I know much about many things. The curse of House Albrecht. The pact with the Black Seraph. The gradual fading of shadow magic through your bloodline."
The Whisper leaned forward slightly.
"And the unexpected awakening of abilities in the last Albrecht heir—abilities that shouldn't exist."
The directness caught Caelan off guard. He kept his expression neutral, even as his mind raced through potential responses.
"You believe the rumours, then? That I'm something more than I appear?"
"I deal in facts, not rumours. And the facts are these: a sickly noble with no combat training eliminates sixteen trained killers without leaving evidence.
The same noble begins practising ancient Nullcraft techniques that even most scholars have forgotten.
And then there's your... distinctive way of moving. Like someone whose body hasn't quite caught up to what the mind knows."
The assessment was uncomfortably accurate. Still, Caelan revealed nothing.
"If you know so much, why this meeting?
Why not simply sell this information to House Fenn?
I imagine they'd pay handsomely."
"The Whisper serves no house, no king, no god."
The shadows swirled faster around the face.
"Only balance. And currently, the scales tip too far in certain directions."
From beneath the table, the Whisper produced a small wooden box, placing it carefully between them.
"I have information that may interest you. About the Albrecht curse, and the Eclipsed Order's recent activities."
"And your price?" Caelan asked, making no move toward the box.
"A task. One that serves both your interests and mine."
"What kind of task?"
"An elimination. Cordus Thane, a merchant in the capital who deals in rare artefacts and information.
Publicly, he serves many noble houses. Privately, he reports directly to Lord Vaeron Fenn, providing intelligence on potential rivals and opportunities for expansion."
Caelan considered this. Assassination was familiar territory for Marcus Chen, but taking such a contract carried risks beyond the physical.
It would cement his status as a killer for hire, potentially undermining House Albrecht's legitimacy if discovered.
"Why not use your own resources?
The Bazaar seems well-stocked with professionals."
"Because of what Thane is."
The Whisper's voice lowered.
"He's not merely a spy—he's a member of the Eclipsed Order, and magically protected. Conventional assassins have tried and failed. Three, to be precise."
"And you think I would succeed where others failed?"
"You possess Nullcraft knowledge. And something else—a perspective they don't anticipate."
The conversation was verging dangerously close to explicit acknowledgement of Caelan's true nature.
He redirected.
"Why target this particular merchant?
The Order has many members, as does House Fenn's spy network."
"Because Thane has been compiling information on you, Lord Albrecht. Or should I say, on the 'Raven's Ghost', He's close to making connections that would prove... inconvenient for both of us."
Caelan leaned back slightly.
"Both of us?"
The shadows concealing the Whisper's face parted just enough to reveal a smile—sharp, dangerous.
"Did you think you were the only one with secrets, young lord?
This world is full of anomalies. Some are born here, others... arrive unexpectedly."
The implication hung between them, neither confirming nor denying but suggesting a shared understanding that went beyond words.
"What information do you offer in exchange for this task?"
Caelan asked, deciding to move the conversation forward.
The Whisper pushed the wooden box toward him.
"Open it."
Inside, Caelan found a small crystal sphere, clear as water but with swirling mist trapped within.
"A memory crystal," the Whisper explained.
"It contains details of Thane's routines, guards, and magical protections.
More importantly, it holds information on House Fenn's financial operations—information that could prove useful when Lord Vaeron comes to collect his tribute."
Caelan picked up the crystal carefully. Even through his gloves, he could feel its strange energy pulsing against his skin.
"How do I access what's inside?"
"Hold it to your forehead and concentrate. The memories will flow into your mind as if they were your own. Be warned—the experience is disorienting the first time."
"And regarding the Albrecht curse?" Caelan prompted, recognising that the crystal contained only half of what had been promised.
The Whisper made a small gesture with one hand, and the air between them seemed to thicken, sounds from outside the room fading to absolute silence.
"What I tell you now never leaves this room. The memory vapours ensure you'll remember the information but not its source."
Caelan nodded his understanding.
"The curse of House Albrecht is not what you think," the Whisper began.
"Your ancestor Morvian didn't make a pact with the Black Seraph—he trapped it.
Contained a fragment of its essence within your bloodline, binding it with shadow magic so it could never fully manifest in this world."
This contradicted much of what Caelan had learned from Morvian's journal.
"The texts describe a covenant, power granted in exchange for service."
"Half-truths, written to mislead anyone who might seek to free the Seraph. Morvian knew the truth was too dangerous to record explicitly. The shadow magic in your bloodline isn't a gift—it's a cage, containing an entity that would destroy this world if released."
"Then why has it faded over generations?
If this magic was so important—"
"Because containing the Seraph extracts a price. Each generation, the magic weakens those who carry it.
Some Albrechts could channel it effectively, becoming powerful shadow mages. Others, like you, showed little or no magical ability—a sign that your body was rejecting the Seraph's essence."
Caelan thought of his sickly childhood, the constant illnesses that had plagued Caelan Albrecht's life.
Had they been caused not by natural weakness but by this magical burden?
"If what you say is true, then the Eclipsed Order—"
"Doesn't seek to prevent the Seraph's return, but to ensure it," the Whisper confirmed.
"They believe its manifestation will usher in an age of darkness they can rule. And recently, they've noticed changes in the magic surrounding House Albrecht. Something has disrupted the pattern that's held for centuries."
Something like a soul from another world taking over Caelan Albrecht's body, perhaps.
Caelan kept that thought to himself.
"How do you know all this?"
The shadows around the Whisper's face seemed to deepen.
"Let's just say I've had many years to study this world's hidden truths. More than should be possible for someone of my apparent age."
Another hint that the Whisper might be like him—a transmigrator, or something equally out of place in this medieval fantasy world.
"And Cordus Thane? What's his role in all this?"
"He's gathering artefacts and information that could help the Order break the binding.
Including details about you and your recent activities. You've drawn their attention, Lord Albrecht.
The display at Blackthorn Keep, while impressive, was also noticed by those who understand what it might signify."
Caelan considered his options carefully.
Accepting this contract would make him a hired assassin—something Marcus Chen had been, but a role that complicated Caelan Albrecht's position as a noble. Refusing might make an enemy of the Whisper and leave this threat intact.
"If I accept, I'd need specifics. Location, timing, evidence of completion."
"All contained within the memory crystal," the Whisper assured him.
"Along with something extra—financial records showing Lord Vaeron's hidden debts to foreign powers. Leverage that might prove useful when he demands his tribute."
"And after the task is complete?
What then?"
"Then we have a more interesting conversation about who and what we are."
The Whisper's voice shifted, the multiple tones separating briefly to reveal a single feminine voice beneath the magical disguise.
"You know?" he asked simply.
"I suspected at the Bazaar. Korrin confirmed it."
The Whisper's voice returned to its magically blended state.
"He has an eye for others like us."
"Like us," Caelan repeated carefully.
"So you're from—"
"That conversation comes after you complete the task," the Whisper interrupted.
"Thane must be eliminated before the royal conclave. He plans to meet with Lord Vaeron there to share his findings about you."
"Two weeks," Caelan noted.
"Not much time for planning and execution."
"Which is why you should decide quickly."
The Whisper rose, the shadows around her seeming to grow and expand.
"The memory crystal contains everything you need. Thane's residence in the capital, his security measures, his daily routines."
Caelan pocketed the crystal, his mind already calculating approaches and contingencies.
"I'll consider your offer."
"Do more than consider, young raven. The pieces are moving faster than you realise."
The Whisper moved toward the door, the shadows flowing with her.
"Be careful. The Black Seraph's disciples have noticed your awakening. They're watching, waiting to see what you'll become."
As Caelan stood to leave, a final warning stopped him at the threshold.
"One last thing, Lord Albrecht. The memory crystal contains information beyond what we've discussed—details about a network of tunnels beneath the capital, access points to noble houses and government buildings, escape routes few know exist. Consider it a bonus for accepting the contract."
"Why provide this additional information?"
The Whisper's shadowed form seemed to ripple with something like amusement.
"Let's call it an investment in a promising future. This world is changing, Lord Albrecht. Those of us who came from elsewhere understand that better than most."
With those cryptic words, the shadows engulfed the Whisper completely, and when they receded, the figure was gone—vanished as mysteriously as she had appeared.
Caelan left the Crescent Tavern through the main room, hood pulled low to avoid recognition.
The memory crystal felt heavy in his pocket, its possibilities and dangers weighing on his mind.
An assassination contract.
Revelations about the Albrecht curse.
And somewhere in the capital, a merchant gathered information that could expose him while working to free an entity that had been bound within his bloodline for centuries.
The pieces of the game had multiplied exponentially, and Caelan was no longer certain which board he was playing on.