The Blood Moon—huge and glowing red—rose slowly above Vindhor's crimson rooftops. Its crimson light filtered through a thick mist, turning every wall, every column, every shop into a spectral silhouette. Kaelen Veyr, his cloak wet with dew, stepped onto the palace's north terrace and gazed over the city—dozing, yet taut with tension. Lanterns flickered in the fog, tracing circles of gold and shadow across the damp cobblestones.
A frigid wind blew from the north. Kaelen tightened his cloak around his shoulders and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the distant calls of owls and the flutter of banners remind him that the night itself was alive—and dangerous.
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I. The Spy's Unease
At the top of the tallest watchtower, Ceylen Arveth paced the crenellations, scanning the plain below. His boots clattered on the wooden floorboards, rousing the sentries on duty. When he joined Kaelen on the terrace, his face bore deep concern.
— My king, he murmured, our scouts intercepted a coded message:
> "Tonight, the moon will redden our blades and open a glass gate."
Kaelen fixed the spy with a sharp glance.
— A new stratagem? he asked quietly.
— More than an assault, Sire, Ceylen explained, slipping the parchment under a torch's glow.
> They speak of the "Mirror of Destiny"—a legendary artifact that can create a magical portal between realms. If they activate it beneath the Blood Moon, they will walk into Vindhor without crossing its walls.
A shiver ran down Kaelen's spine. He turned to Lys, already fastening her Purifier's Dagger to her belt:
— Ready the guard, Lys. Muster your purification patrols: every mirror must be sealed before midnight.
— At once, Sire, she replied, dashing off.
Kaelen nodded and placed a hand on Ceylen's shoulder:
— You will coordinate our internal security. Alert the Glassworks artisans: every repaired mirror must receive a secondary ward.
Ceylen bowed and melted back into the staircase's shadow.
---
II. Signs of Conspiracy
Kaelen hurried down to the merchant quarter. The air still held the scent of spices and sun-warmed tiles, but a low unease gripped the alleyways: the Blood Moon's light danced through every shop window, casting wavering reflections on the stone.
Before the Glassworks' facade, Kaelen stopped short. A mirror inset in the wall—recently purified—was now split down its center, shards of glass threatening to spill free. The artisans huddled behind carts, faces frozen in terror.
Maelis, already there, held up a purification talisman.
— They have breached our defenses, Sire, she whispered.
> They're testing the wards' resilience before striking heavier blows.
The Glass-Spring priestess Psamis advanced, laying her sacramental talisman against the cracked frame. Her voice echoed like the sea:
> "Pure waters, cleanse the corruption;
mend the fracture, seal the vision."
A cool breath swept the street: glass shards mingled with a shimmering mist. In an instant, the crack vanished as though the mirror had never been broken. Kaelen felt determination surge:
— Let the Chamber try again: every breach—no matter how wide—will be sealed before dawn.
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III. The Silent Assault
Past midnight, Lys slipped through the city with the Shadow Guard to the clandestine luthiers' workshop, hidden beneath a false wooden storefront. Kaelen, the Blood Moon's shadows etched on his features, pushed open the door cautiously.
Inside, a lone enchanted lantern flickered. Five hooded saboteurs surrounded a large standing mirror on a marble pedestal. Its surface rippled like storm-tossed water.
Lys whispered her orders:
— Lysia and two guards at the entrance. You, Sire, move ahead. I'll cover your right flank, Telron your left.
In hushed silence, Kaelen stepped forward. The saboteurs brandished daggers laced with black powder. In a flash, Lys leapt, her Purifier's Dagger hissing as it severed the first blade. Kaelen drew the Purifier's Blade, which glimmered with soft light, driving back the shadowy haze.
With a precise strike, Kaelen smashed the pedestal: the mirror hummed, swallowing the room in a dark wave before shattering into enchanted fragments. The haze vanished under the priests' chants as reinforcements arrived. The saboteurs, disoriented, were subdued in moments.
Kaelen, panting, gathered a shard of glass:
— Every fragment removed from the city, Lys.
— I'll see to it, she answered, collecting the pieces in a sacred satchel.
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IV. The Heart of the Conspiracy
On their way back, Maelis pointed out a silver-inked note scrawled beneath a stone bench:
> "Under the Red Moon, the Seven converge.
The Mirror of Destiny will open its gates.
He who gazes upon it shall know his fate… but the world will die without its light."
Kaelen studied the note, brow creased in worry.
— This is no mere attack; it's a ritual, he stated.
> They aim to awaken the Mirror of Destiny—the ultimate relic of the ancient empires.
Lys placed a hand on his shoulder:
— If the Chamber succeeds, they will cross our walls without a single siege. Sire.
> We must find this mirror before midnight.
Maelis nodded:
— An old imperial treatise in the royal library mentions crypts beneath the Black Citadel where three sacred mirrors were once sealed. One may be the Mirror of Destiny.
Kaelen adjusted his crown:
— Then we ride tonight. Lys and I, with a small detachment.
> Maelis, you will oversee Vindhor's defense—the Blood Moon won't last forever.
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V. The Hunt for the Mirror
Under cover of darkness, Kaelen, Lys, and six Shadow Guard riders left Vindhor through the north gate. They traversed the dim valley, each hoofbeat raising a swirl of red dust. The Blood Moon's uncertain light unveiled fleeting shapes in the thickets.
Suddenly, Ceylen's voice came from behind them:
> "Lord Garhald was complicit in the Chamber's devotions. But I intercepted a report: they will rendezvous tonight beneath the Black Citadel."
Kaelen halted, hand on his blade's hilt:
— Very well. We'll bypass the patrols and enter through the tunnels.
> Lys, guide us to the hidden crypt entrance.
Lys nodded. They took a paved path winding up to Dornhal's ruined fortress. Tall cracked walls bore obsidian rune scars—remnants of an ancient siege.
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VI. Infiltrating the Black Citadel
At the fortress's base, Lys triggered a camouflaged mechanism: a relief pivoted to reveal a secret doorway. They descended a spiral staircase, each step creaking with age. Their torches cast flickering light on faded inscriptions—prayers to vanished gods, curses against traitors.
At the bottom, a circular crypt awaited. Black marble pillars supported a soot-darkened dome. In the center, on a smoked-glass pedestal, stood the Mirror of Destiny: a great opaque crystal ring framed in carved silver. Its surface pulsed, reflecting a wavering light as though a heartbeat lay beneath.
Kaelen stepped forward, Purifier's Blade raised:
— By the Black Crown and Vindhor's light, I seal you!
From behind the mirror, a hooded figure emerged: the Voice of the Seventh, guardian of the Mirrors' secrets.
— You're too late, king. The convergence has begun.
She raised her hands, summoning violet smoke. Kaelen struck the mirror's base: the crystal rang like struck glass, the dark wave shattering against his blade. Lys loosed arrows of light that pierced the runic haze.
The mirror cracked, releasing a roar of a thousand ancient voices. The Voice screamed as the purifying light engulfed her, and staggered. Kaelen leapt forward and drove his blade's tip into the crystal. A shrill cry split the air as the Mirror of Destiny shattered in a cascade of iridescent shards, dispersing into stardust.
The crypt fell silent. The Voice collapsed, her mantle dissolving. Lys cut down the final fragments:
— There will be no portal tonight.
Kaelen, still breathless, brushed stardust from his blade:
— Let every shattered reflection stand as a warning:
> As long as the light holds, the shadow shall not pass.
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VII. The Dawn Return
At the crypt's entrance, the guard waited as the moon dipped below the horizon. Kaelen, Lys, and Ceylen ascended the staircase, carrying the shattered mirror fragments in a sacred chest.
When Vindhor reappeared, the dawning sky blazed gold and purple. The city held its breath. Kaelen found Maelis in the square; she brandished a parchment from Belroth:
> "To King Kaelen Veyr, noble Guardian of Light—
We interrupted a similar rite on our lands and reinforced our magic walls.
Tomorrow we shall send master wardens to seal every reflection,
so no ritual may again slip through.
— Signed, High Priest Tharan of Belroth."
Kaelen broke the seal, letting the words drift in the morning wind:
— The alliance grows, he said.
— And the shadow recedes, Maelis replied.
Lys stepped forward, silver dagger resting on her shoulder:
> "You have sealed the glass gate, Sire."
— "And turned back the Night," added Ceylen, eyes bright.
Kaelen gazed at the now-safe city walls, lined with purified mirrors:
> "Thus, upon Vindhor's stones, a promise was sealed:
That the ring of shadows would know neither key nor passage,
so long as the light of united realms shone beneath the moon."
Under the first caw of morning ravens, Vindhor found its peace. Yet Kaelen knew that, though broken, the Mirror of Destiny would one day rise again. For now, he savored his victory… until the next dawn.
To be continued…