In the heart of Aurik, the stars were suffocated. The moon, once a guiding beacon for travelers, hung veiled and lifeless, as if something had smothered its light. The people stirred uneasily. Journeys halted. Hearts trembled.
Rumors spread like a contagion.
The streets flooded with anxious citizens, their panic heightened by the shocking murder of the Keeper of Korta and the death of the royal steward. The Royal Guard struggled to hold back the tide of people surging toward the palace gates, where the royal family and court remained cloistered.
A guard climbed a high platform, his voice straining over the din.
"There is no cause for alarm! The Royal Court assures you—this is a natural cosmic phenomenon! You are safe, so long as you remain calm and do not leave the city walls!"
A voice from the crowd snapped back, sharp and bitter.
"Safe? On what condition? Since when do we negotiate our safety?"
Murmurs rippled through the throng. Another voice rose above the whispers.
"They say the Luminous Tree Village has fallen to invaders! Is that why the sky has dimmed? Has the flow of natural magic been severed?"
The whispers grew louder, frantic and demanding.
"Why not send someone from the Mage Guild to investigate? You're just a royal guard—you know nothing of magic!"
The guard’s face flushed with anger. He stepped forward, hand on his hilt.
"Watch your tongue, you wretch! Do not belittle the Royal Guard of Aurik!"
A mocking laugh rang out from the shadows.
"Royal Guard? Don't make us laugh. You lost King Caesar!"
The guard drew his sword, stepping toward the speaker with fury in his eyes. But then, he froze. His blade lowered slowly to his side.
"Forgive me... Princess Kasrahh."
The crowd fell silent.
All eyes turned to her. Princess Kasrahh of Aurik stood beneath the fractured sky, her presence cutting through the chaos. But the gazes directed at her were cold, resentful, and filled with disdain.
Kasrahh raised her voice, trying to project strength.
"People of Aurik... the current situation—"
But they turned away.
One by one, the citizens showed her their backs. They dispersed into the gloom, leaving her standing alone in the square—a scene of quiet, stinging humiliation.
A nearby guard stepped forward, hesitant. "Your Highness... there's no need to—"
Kasrahh looked down, her voice barely audible. "It's fine... it's..."
She turned to walk back into the safety of the palace, but a shout stopped her.
"Your Highness! Look!"
The guard pointed skyward.
Kasrahh turned. High above, a green comet blazed across the heavens, its tail slicing through the blackened sky like a blade of emerald light. Her crimson eyes reflected the comet's eerie glow.
"A green comet..." she whispered. "A sky so dark it swallows the stars... Has the Luminous Tree truly fallen?"
A royal advisor stepped out from the shadows beside her, his tone smooth and dismissive.
"No, Your Highness. Nothing has happened. Silva is simply undergoing a transitional phase. We expect the stars to return... in two years."
Kasrahh stared at him, unconvinced.
"Very well..."
She returned to her chamber, the heavy doors closing out the noise of the city. She activated a sapphire scrying crystal, its light flickering as she scanned the latest reports from across the kingdom.
"So..." she mused, her brow furrowing. "That mad merchant Jabir made it back from the Valley of Wonders? My father vanished there... kidnapped... or worse. And yet this lunatic strolls out as if it were a garden path."
She glanced toward the balcony, watching the guards patrol the empty streets below.
"Who is stirring all this unrest? Should I investigate myself? No... my brother would be furious."
Her eyes narrowed as her thoughts shifted to the recent deaths.
"Delyn... dead. I never imagined his end would come like this. I thought he'd fall to assassins or extremists... but strangers? That is... unsettling."
Kasrahh rose and stepped onto her balcony. Below her, the vast city of Aurik shimmered—its walls and rooftops glowing faintly beneath Silva's broken sky.
She looked up at the green streak cutting through the darkness.
"This comet... Aurik... The last light left in Silva. The Luminous Tree... Is it truly gone?"
Aurik Palace - The Night of the Green Comet
A sharp rap on the heavy oak door broke the silence of the chamber.
Kasrahh rose from her chair, hesitated for a heartbeat, and then pulled the door open.
"Asser! Brother—ah, I mean... Your Majesty."
Prince Asser, Commander of Aurik's forces and rightful heir to King Caesar, stepped inside. The weight of his armor seemed to follow him into the room as he took a seat, his posture rigid.
"I’ve told you before—you may call me by name," he said, his voice low. "Titles do not matter in this room."
Kasrahh flushed, looking down at her hands.
"I... I’m sorry."
A strange, heavy silence settled between them, filled with the things they were too afraid to say.
Asser finally broke it, his tone softer. "Hmm. How are you? Is something troubling you?"
Kasrahh exhaled slowly, trying to steady her nerves.
"Nothing urgent... but there is something I need to speak with you about."
"I’m listening."
She hesitated, searching for the right words.
"There is something strange happening in the Royal Court. I am not saying they are lying or deceiving us, but... something in my heart tells me—"
Asser interrupted, his tone instantly hardening.
"Kasrahh... Sister. It is dangerous to lead with your heart. Leadership and politics require a thinking mind, not a beating one. We cannot accuse the Court based on feelings alone."
Kasrahh fidgeted, her fingers twisting the fabric of her dress.
"No, no—I am not accusing anyone directly. I just... I don’t feel safe around them."
"What exactly are you implying?"
She shifted the subject, her tension visible.
"The Luminous Tree... it has fallen. I am certain of it, Asser."
He sighed, leaning back with a look of unimpressed fatigue.
"Have you taken ill, Kasrahh?"
"You must listen to me! I feel it—deep inside."
"I have warned you about letting emotions cloud your judgment," Asser said, his patience thinning. "The advisors may be flawed, but they speak from decades of experience."
Kasrahh’s voice rose, trembling with frustration.
"Do you truly believe Silva is undergoing a 'cosmic phase' that will end in two years? How do they know that? And what if they are wrong? What if the sky remains dark because of something we failed to act on? What then?"
Asser stood up, his shadow stretching across the floor.
"You are spiraling again, Kasrahh. I came to visit, not to entertain your theories."
"Why not let the Mage Guild investigate?" she pressed, desperate to reach him. "Why not restore their place in the Court? They were once trusted—Father trusted them!"
Asser’s face went cold. The air in the room seemed to drop in temperature.
"Enough, Kasrahh. You know they were the reason Father vanished. We still don’t know what happened to him."
His fists clenched at his sides, the leather of his gloves creaking.
Kasrahh’s voice cracked, tears stinging her eyes.
"That is impossible. The Guild and Father were close. They refused to send him away for treatment—they crafted a spell meant to him!"
Asser cut her off, his voice like a whip.
"I don’t care about their 'close ties.' All I know is they failed him. And now, they reap what they sow."
"Brother, please—"
"That is enough, Kasrahh!"
He turned and stormed out, the door slamming shut behind him. The echo rang through the stone walls.
Kasrahh stood alone in the quiet chamber, the silence returning tenfold.
She stepped onto the balcony, the cold wind biting at her skin. Her eyes were heavy with doubt.
"Maybe he is right..." she whispered to the darkness. "Maybe I am too emotional..."
She looked up.
The green comet blazed across Silva’s dark sky, its tail slicing through the heavens like a divine wound, bleeding light into the void.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
"Tomorrow... I will invite Jabir to dinner," she decided, her voice trembling. "I need a distraction. Before I ruin my brother’s name completely."
Back in Time - Beneath Aurik's Crumbling Veins
In the heart of Aurik, the shadows were deep and restless.
Sylvance moved like a phantom through the alleyways, her boots making no sound against the cobblestones. She was hunting for Jabir, and her path led to the one place no citizen dared to tread: the forbidden tunnels of Korta.
A shout shattered her stealth.
"You there! Girl—halt! What are those weapons?!"
A Royal Guard had spotted the glint of her bow. Behind him, two more armored figures emerged from the gloom, their hands going to their hilts.
Sylvance cursed under her breath. She didn't argue. She bolted.
Her breath came in sharp, shallow bursts as she ducked into a narrow side street, pressing her back against the cold stone of a merchant’s shop. Above her, Silva’s fractured sky looked down like a broken eye—the stars dimmed, the green comet casting a sickly pallor over the city.
"The tunnels..." she whispered to herself, checking her bearings. "Where do they lead?"
She steeled herself. "I can do this."
She pushed off the wall and sprinted toward the tunnel entrance—only to find her path blocked by a lone sentry.
"Halt!"
Sylvance didn't slow down. She drew her bow in a fluid motion, nocking an arrow that hummed with violet energy. She fired not at the man, but at the stone beneath his feet.
"Sorceress!" he cried, raising his shield.
The arrow erupted into a cloud of thick, violet smoke, engulfing him instantly.
"No..." the guard mumbled, his eyes rolling back. "She’s... one of them..."
His voice faded into a slur as he collapsed, succumbing to the enchanted sleep.
Sylvance stepped over his slumbering form, her expression grim.
"Rest. Sleep. And be quiet," she murmured. Then she paused. "'One of them'? Who does he think I am?"
She vanished into the subterranean mist just as the pursuing guards rounded the corner, surrounding their unconscious comrade in confusion.
The air down here was heavy with the smell of damp earth and old iron.
Jabir grabbed Fuad’s arm, his grip surprisingly strong for a merchant.
"Listen, boy..." Jabir’s voice was a harsh whisper. "I don’t know what is happening to this world. But I feel something dangerous stirring in the dark. That child—they are the missing link in a much larger plan. There is so much we need to fix... if we want to survive the night."
Fuad met the older man's gaze, his eyes unblinking and hard.
"I don’t care about plans," Fuad said. "I’ll protect the child. He’s innocent. He doesn’t deserve any of this."
Jabir nodded slowly, releasing him.
"He is innocent, yes... but strong. I don’t think they have broken him yet. I think he is resisting. Waiting for us... or waiting for the right moment."
Suddenly, a scream echoed from the darkness ahead, followed by the wet sound of steel cutting flesh.
Jabir’s hired men drew their weapons, their hands shaking. Kras, Jabir’s second-in-command, unsheathed his blade with a metallic rasp. Fuad gripped his dagger——the blade shimmering faintly in the torchlight.
Jabir muttered, "Looks like they’ve arrived..."
Blood pooled from the connecting corridor. Two figures stepped into the dim light. They were cloaked in black robes that seemed to absorb the shadows, their swords dripping with fresh crimson.
Jabir’s voice dropped to a terrified murmur.
"Damn... I have never seen anything like this. Not even in the Valley of Wonders."
Kras went pale, stepping back. "It’s them. The ones who killed Delyn. Same robes. Same silence."
Behind them, Jabir’s hired guards began to break formation, retreating into the shadows. Only Fuad, Jabir, Kras, and two loyal mercenaries held their ground.
Fuad tightened his grip on his dagger, flashing a jagged grin at the merchant.
"I hope you’ve got enough gold, you greedy old badger... because we’re about to earn it."
Jabir let out a bark of laughter, sharp and devoid of humor.
"Ha! That’s rich, boy. We are staring death in the face—and you are cracking jokes. I like that. Keep going."
Kras snapped at them, sweat beading on his brow.
"Focus, both of you! Or we’ll die laughing!"
Sylvance reached the threshold where the tunnels widened into the underground network.
Two guards stood motionless at the archway.
But something was wrong.
Their eyes didn’t scan the room; they stared fixedly ahead, unblinking. Their posture wasn’t defensive—it was predatory, like coiled vipers waiting to strike.
Sylvance’s instincts flared like a warning bell.
She leapt back just as they moved.
They lunged with unnatural speed, their movements jerky and puppet-like. Sylvance dodged with fluid grace, sliding across the damp floor. She unsheathed her short blade with one hand and drew her bow with the other.
She nocked a glowing violet arrow and aimed at the creature masquerading as a man.
"So it’s you..." she hissed. "The ones the guards are hunting. The ones spreading fear through the city. The ones who took the child..."
Her arrow pulsed with violet light, illuminating the darkness of the catacombs.
The war beneath Aurik had begun.
Sylvance’s blades rang out against the steel of the Black Order, sparks showering the damp darkness of the tunnel entrance. She was fast, but they were unshakeable.
One of the cloaked figures blocked her strike with an eerie, practiced calm, locking blades with her.
"What are you doing here, little sprite?" his voice grated from beneath his hood. "Has no one told you what happened to your precious village?"
The second figure circled her, sneering.
"So she is one of the ones... A magical insect from the Tree Village." He chuckled darkly. "Your kind has caused trouble across Silva for too long. It was wise of us to finally invade and prune that overgrown weed you call a god."
Sylvance’s eyes flared, her pupils contracting. She shoved the first attacker back, creating space.
"What are you talking about, you monsters?!"
The first assassin laughed, a dry, rasping sound.
"We’ll tell you before we gut you... Or perhaps we’ll let you run home—if there is any of it left standing."
Sylvance raised her bow, her hands trembling with adrenaline. A radiant arrow materialized in her grip, shedding a golden light that pushed back the shadows.
"Oh no," the second mocked, feigning terror. "We’ve angered the forest fairy."
The first stepped forward, his voice dropping to a cruel whisper.
"While you waste time playing hero in these rotting sewers, our battalions act. Dark flames are devouring your people right now. Your tree is ash, girl."
Sylvance stumbled back as if struck. The bow lowered slightly.
Her mind reeled. The darkness of the tunnel seemed to close in, suffocating her.
But then... she remembered.
Her grandmother’s voice echoed in the silence of her mind, clear as a bell:
She felt the phantom warmth of her grandmother’s embrace.
Then, the memory shifted. The crackle of a campfire. The smell of roasted meat. Jabir’s boisterous laughter ringing out under the stars.
She saw Jawaher smiling at her beneath Silva’s vast, starry sky.
The memories flooded her—Jabir and Jawaher arguing with assassins to free the villagers. The cheers of the people as she returned with the hostages. The awe in a child’s eyes.
SHINK.
Reality snapped back with the bite of cold steel.
One of the assassins had capitalized on her hesitation, his blade slicing across her side. Sylvance gasped, blocking the follow-up strike, but the force threw her against the rough stone wall.
She slid down, blood dripping from her lip. The metallic taste mixed with the salt of her tears.
She looked up. The fear was gone.
"I will kill you..." she whispered, her voice vibrating with power. "And I will cleanse you... just as our ancestors once did."
WHOOSH.
Her eyes ignited with blinding golden light. Her body shimmered, encased in a radiant aura that made the damp air of the tunnel hiss.
She stood, drawing her bow. The string hummed with tension. A yellow arrow materialized, surging with wind and fury.
"Watch me, Grandmother."
The tunnel entrance exploded with light.
The assassins lunged.
The first leapt toward her, blade raised. Sylvance didn't blink. She fired.
He twisted in mid-air, barely dodging the shaft of light.
The second moved to block her next shot, raising a magical barrier. But Sylvance was already moving. She fired a second arrow—not at him, but his guard. The golden bolt punched through his chest plate like paper.
He collapsed without a sound.
Sylvance engaged the third figure—the leader—in a blur of motion. She discarded the bow for a split second, drawing her short swords to parry a flurry of strikes.
He was fast. Too fast.
His blade bit into her shoulder.
Sylvance staggered, biting back a scream. She rolled away, creating distance, and summoned her bow again. Two crimson arrows materialized instantly—fire magic.
She fired.
He dodged the first with a supernatural blur.
The second struck his thigh.
FWOOSH.
His leg ignited. But the man didn't scream. He looked down at the flames, reached down, and ripped the arrow from his flesh. He crushed the burning shaft beneath his boot, extinguishing the magic.
"Interesting," he said coldly.
A terrifying black aura erupted from his body, swirling toward Sylvance like living smoke.
She fired again—three arrows in rapid succession.
He dodged the first. Slapped the second aside.
The third flew straight for his head.
He caught the arrow mid-air, inches from his eye. The magic sizzled against his gloved hand as he twisted the shaft and hurled it to the ground.
Sylvance didn't flinch. She steadied her bow. She tied the string back to her ear, the golden light intensifying until it was painful to look at.
She took a deep breath, centering her soul amidst the chaos.
"Watch me, Grandmother..."
·
Here is the polished version of the chapter. I have focused on the contrast between Jabir’s flamboyant combat style and the grim reality of the Necromancer, while keeping the banter sharp and the action fast-paced.
Jabir leveled his weapon—a strange, exquisite device that looked like a cross between a crossbow and a scepter. Crafted from rare mahogany and inlaid with mana-infused diamonds, it hummed with stored energy.
"I’ll cover you."
Fuad didn't hesitate. His dagger, , hissed as a coating of viridian poison seeped from the steel. He charged, launching himself at the nearest cloaked figure.
Steel met shadow. The opponent was unnaturally fast, parrying Fuad’s strikes with terrifying precision.
"Fuad, don't be reckless!" Kras roared, stepping in to deflect a blow meant for the boy’s neck. "Delyn died for you. Your life has value now! If you fall here—I’ll drag you back from hell just to make you regret it!"
Behind them, Jabir’s hired blades surged forward. The clash was brutal. Sparks flew as heavy steel battered against the dark enchantments of the Black Order.
Kras spared a glance, stunned by the mercenaries' discipline. They moved in perfect phalanx formation.
"I didn't know you could hire men like this," Kras grunted, parrying a thrust.
Jabir grinned, sighting down the barrel of his weapon.
"Money buys anything, my friend. These men were Royal Guards to King Caesar himself. They left the service when the kingdom fell... Now they trade their honor for my coin."
Kras gritted his teeth and charged back into the fray, his blade flashing in the torchlight.
But the tide was turning.
One of the five cloaked figures stood motionless in the center of the chaos. He raised a hand, and a black aura pulsed outward like a shockwave. The temperature in the tunnel plummeted.
Agonized wails echoed off the stone walls—spirits begging for release. Dark, shapeless forms began to claw their way up from the floor, solidifying into jagged shadows.
Jabir cursed, his playful demeanor slipping.
"Necromancer?!"
He reached into a pouch, pulled out a ruby, and slammed it into the mechanism of his weapon.
A burst of concentrated fire erupted from the barrel. It struck the advancing shadows, but they didn't dissipate. They merely reformed, advancing relentlessly toward Fuad and Kras.
Fuad scrambled back, dodging a spectral claw.
"Jabir! Damn you!" the boy shouted. "Your desert tales were lies! You said you were invincible!"
"These things can’t be killed with steel!" Kras shouted, slashing uselessly at a shadow. "We need magic—or a mage! I shouldn’t have let the old sorcerer leave..."
"Patience!" Jabir snapped.
He ejected the ruby and slotted a topaz into the chamber. The weapon hummed with a high-pitched whine. He pulled the trigger.
A chain of lightning arced through the tunnel. The shadows screamed, recoiling as the electricity disrupted their forms.
"Listen, boys!" Jabir yelled over the thunder. "You’ve got time to learn! Watch the Great Merchant Jabir in action!"
A projectile of bone flew past his head, snipping a lock of his hair. Jabir ducked smoothly, firing a return shot.
Fuad smirked, breathless. "The 'Great Merchant' nearly died to a novice necromancer."
Jabir growled, reloading.
"Bring me cake and wine when this is over—my mood is thoroughly ruined."
Suddenly, a white aura flared around Jabir. Golden light surged from his body, shifting the wind in the stagnant tunnel.
Kras and Fuad felt their hearts race—not from fear, but from the sheer pressure of his mana.
Fuad whispered, eyes wide. "So this is how Jamih’s son died... No wonder Jamih feared facing Jabir without backup."
Further up the tunnel, the mercenaries were struggling. They had engaged a single enemy who moved like smoke—dodging every blow, leaping off walls, spinning through their guard without a scratch.
"He’s immortal!" one mercenary gasped, clutching a shattered arm. "We need something else!"
The enemy struck again, bone crunching under his palm strike.
"You were expensive—fight like it!" Jabir barked from the backline.
"You didn't say we’d face necromancers and monsters in cloaks!" the mercenary shouted back, panic rising. "I’m used to beasts from the Valley of Wonders—not this!"
Jabir laughed, the sound echoing strangely in the golden light.
"You are with Jabir now! Expect the unexpected!"
"You said we’d rescue a child!" another guard yelled, deflecting a lethal strike. "We thought we’d fight kidnappers—not the Black Order!"
Kras laughed nervously, wiping blood from his brow. "And yet here you are—fighting beside us. Fate is a cruel mistress, Royal Guard."
"This isn't fate! This is madness!"
But amidst the shouting, one word cut through the noise.
The Necromancer froze. His head snapped toward the mercenaries.
He turned to a coalescing shadow on the floor.
"Go. Tell them. The child is the target. Now."
The shadow dissolved into the stone, racing toward the surface.
Jabir lowered his weapon slightly, his eyes narrowing as he realized his mistake.
"Well then..." he muttered, gripping the diamond-inlaid handle tighter. "It seems I’ve just become the primary target."
what is the most interesting part?