Night descended over the palace like a silent predator. The once-golden corridors now glowed faintly blue under the light of the floating crystal lamps, their shimmer reflected in the polished floors that hid more secrets than reflections.
Arka and Lysander stood within the lower sanctum, where the burned mark of the Abyssal Beast King still pulsed faintly on the cracked marble. The scent of char and spirit residue lingered too deliberate to be chaos, too precise to be random.
Lysander crouched near the edge of the sigil, his gloved fingers tracing the perimeter without touching it. "The energy is still warm," he said quietly. "Whoever did this was here no more than an hour ago."
Arka's gaze swept the walls, senses sharp, instincts restless. "And they knew exactly where to strike. The sigil chambers are sealed by celestial runes only someone inside the palace could bypass them."
Lysander glanced up, golden eyes narrowing. "You're saying it's an inside job?"
Arka nodded slowly. "I'm saying it's someone with access, authority, and knowledge of the trials' aftermath."
Silence hung heavy between them until a faint echo reached their ears. A soft, dragging sound from one of the side corridors.
Arka motioned for quiet, stepping forward. The faint silver glow of his eyes cut through the dim hall as they followed the noise. It led to a narrow service passage hidden behind a tapestry, one that few outside the royal guard even knew existed.
There, lying against the wall, was a palace servant. Young. Terrified. His uniform was torn, and a thin line of black energy pulsed from his chest, slowly fading.
Lysander knelt beside him, pressing a hand over the wound, channeling gentle warmth. "Who did this?"
The boy's eyes fluttered. His voice came out in broken gasps. "Not… human. A beast cloaked… in shadow. But… not alone."
Arka leaned closer. "Not alone?"
The boy's trembling hand lifted weakly, pointing at something on the floor. A small piece of cloth embroidered with a golden serpent.
Lysander's expression darkened. "That crest… belongs to the Council of Dawn."
Arka frowned. "Aren't they supposed to protect the empire from dark entities?"
"They are," Lysander said quietly. "Which means either someone's betraying their oath…" He looked at the mark again, his jaw tightening. "…or the Council itself is no longer what it seems."
The servant coughed, voice trembling. "He said… the Abyss… has chosen its vessel…"
The boy's eyes glazed over, and the faint silver light around his body flickered out.
Arka closed the servant's eyes with a quiet sigh. "The Abyss has chosen its vessel." He stood, his silver aura flaring faintly. "Then it's only a matter of time before that vessel comes for us."
Lysander looked at him, his voice low but steady. "If that's true, then this is more than politics. Someone's summoning an ancient power something the Astral Trials were meant to keep sealed."
Arka met his gaze. "And if it's connected to the Star Wolf lineage, they'll come for me first."
Lysander's expression softened for a heartbeat. "Then they'll have to go through me."
Their eyes met silver and gold, standing side by side beneath the glow of flickering light.
Outside, thunder rolled across the night sky.
Somewhere deep beneath the palace, something stirred ancient, hungry, and patient.
The Abyss was no longer whispering.
It was calling.