Chaos reigned in the Imperial Ballroom. Alaric, his face a mask of scarlet fury, bellowed orders to his palace guards, their armor clanking as they fanned out, searching for the disembodied voice. Elowen, usually so composed, looked genuinely distressed, her perfect facade crumbling under the weight of the accusations. Duke Theron, pale and rigid, stared at Alaric with a dawning horror that cemented my success.
My hiding spot on the musicians' balcony was excellent, providing both concealment and a perfect vantage point. But as guards began to ascend the winding stairs towards the upper levels, their heavy boots thudding closer, I knew my time was running out. I had to escape.
I slipped off the balcony, using a less-frequented service stairwell, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. My simple servant's uniform, combined with the innate stealth of my "Ghost in the Manor" skill, allowed me to melt into the shadows. The palace, usually a place of rigid order, was now a labyrinth of panicked servants and frantic guards.
I moved with a desperate urgency, trying to remember the complex map Cassian had shown me. My goal was the series of hidden passages that led to the outer palace walls, where Cassian's agents were likely waiting. But the sheer number of guards, suddenly everywhere, made every turn a risk.
"Check every alcove! Every service hatch!" I heard a captain shout, his voice echoing down a marble corridor. "The Prince wants that seditionist found!"
My luck held for a few minutes, but then, as I rounded a corner into a dimly lit gallery of ancestral portraits, two guards, their faces grim, were already there, sweeping the area. They saw me, a fleeting shadow, and their eyes narrowed.
"There! The servant!" one yelled, pointing. "Stop!"
I didn't stop. I broke into a full sprint, my feet flying over the polished marble floor. They were fast, trained, and quickly gaining on me. My "Shadow-silk Robes," still in my satchel, would have helped, but I couldn't risk revealing them here.
I ducked into a narrow, winding corridor, hoping to lose them in the labyrinthine servants' quarters. But the guards were relentless, their heavy boots clanking closer and closer. I could feel their presence at my back, hear their harsh breaths.
"Cornered her!" one of them bellowed, his voice filled with grim satisfaction.
I found myself in a dead end—a small, disused storeroom, filled with dusty tapestries and broken furniture. No other exit. The two guards, swords drawn, blocked the only way out. Their faces were grim, determined.
"No escape, girl," one grunted, raising his sword. "The Prince wants answers. You won't be walking out of here alive."
My mind screamed. This was it. The direct confrontation. My skills were for stealth and disruption, not open combat. My "Primal Roar" might daze them, but it wouldn't get me past two armed, determined guards in a confined space. This was a trap.
Just as the first guard lunged, his sword glinting dangerously, a profound, chilling darkness swept through the storeroom. It wasn't the natural shadow of the room; it was a living, breathing void that swallowed the dim light, chilling the very air.
The guards froze, their eyes widening in primal fear. Their swords wavered.
From the deepest part of that encroaching darkness, a voice, low and resonant, yet undeniably filled with a raw, terrifying power, echoed. It was Duke Cassian's voice, but distorted, deepened, imbued with something ancient and utterly formidable.
"Foolish worms," the voice rumbled, the air vibrating with its unspoken threat. "Did you truly believe Seraphine Valtara would be so easily contained?"
One of the guards, paralyzed by fear, dropped his sword with a clatter. The other tried to stammer, "Who... who are you?!"
A figure coalesced from the darkness, immense and imposing. It was Cassian, but not as I knew him. His form seemed to shimmer, his silhouette larger, his silver eyes blazing with an inner, arcane light that cut through the gloom. Shadows writhed around him like living extensions of his will, coiling, stretching, pressing in on the terrified guards.
"I am the keeper of shadows," Cassian declared, his voice now a chilling whisper that promised oblivion. "And this ghost belongs to me."
He raised a hand, and the shadows obeyed, lashing out like spectral whips. They didn't physically strike, but they tore at the guards' minds, twisting their perception, feeding their deepest fears. The guards screamed, not from pain, but from sheer, mind-breaking terror. They clawed at their own faces, their eyes rolling back, their bodies convulsing in silent agony.
In a matter of seconds, they collapsed, twitching, whimpering messes, completely incapacitated. Their swords lay discarded on the floor. Cassian, his form now settling back into its usual, composed elegance, stepped out of the swirling darkness, which receded instantly, leaving the storeroom almost unnaturally bright.
He looked down at the quivering guards, then turned his silver eyes to me, a faint, almost apologetic half-smile on his lips. "Apologies, Seraphine. It seems my little ghost required a more... visible escort."
[SYSTEM ALERT]
Cassian's Dark Power Revealed!
Relationship Meter: Duke Cassian - Loyalty Cemented (Massive Increase).
New Skill Unlocked: "Shadow's Embrace" (Passive: Minor stealth boost when near Cassian; Active: Cassian can temporarily incapacitate foes, High Mana Cost for Cassian).
Quest "Unmask the Prince" - Success! (Escaped Capture).
I stared at him, my mouth agape. The "Duke of Shadows" wasn't just a title; it was a literal description. He hadn't just used magic; he had commanded shadows, manifested pure fear. This was far beyond what the novel had hinted at for any of its male leads, even the 'dark' ones. This was something ancient, something terrifying, and utterly magnificent.
"You..." I finally managed, my voice a little shaky. "You truly are the Duke of Shadows."
He merely chuckled, a low, rich sound. "I find it useful to live up to one's reputation, Seraphine. Now," he gestured to the incapacitated guards, "we should move quickly. This display of power will not go unnoticed for long. The palace will be swarming within minutes."
He took my arm, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the immense power I had just witnessed. He led me past the quivering guards, towards a section of the storeroom wall I hadn't noticed before. He pressed a hidden mechanism, and a heavy stone slab slid aside, revealing a dark, narrow tunnel.
"This way," he murmured, pulling me into the darkness. "To Viremont. And to the next chapter of our story."