Far beyond the borders of my growing village, nestled within the dense silverwood forests of the northern region, sat an estate carved into the side of an obsidian mountain. The air there was colder, the land darker, and its owner colder still—Duke Vaelreth Alrinar, a highborn elf and one of the most dangerous nobles in the kingdom. A duke not only feared for his mastery of ancient dark magic—but whispered to be a contender for the throne itself.
Tonight, inside his arcane sanctum, lit only by floating orbs of green fire and lined with spellbound tomes, Duke Vaelreth stood unmoving.
His eyes, long and sharp like all his kin, glowed a sickly grey. In his hands, a black mirror pulsed faintly, revealing a blurred image—my land.
The glow of the divine garden. The purple mana in the air. The unusual advancements of construction, commerce, and agriculture, all in record time.
He sneered.
"The pulse has grown stronger," he muttered. "It is no longer random... it's centered. Someone is feeding it. Someone unnatural."
Behind him, his servant, cloaked in tattered robes, bowed deeply. "The spy confirms it, my lord. The magic in that land is unnatural... powerful."
Vaelreth's lips thinned. "And yet the crown has done nothing."
"No, my lord. But they watch closely. Still... the spy has sent a name."
The duke raised a brow. "Speak it."
"Dirk Robinson. A foreigner. A low noble by decree only."
There was a silence, deep and heavy. The floating fire dimmed slightly.
"Hmm..." Vaelreth murmured. "A name born from nothing. But rising too fast. Too bold. Too... confident."
He turned sharply, cape swishing behind him, and strode to a long crystal embedded in the wall—a communication obelisk. With a flick of his wrist, runes etched into the stone came to life.
"You've done well, Karl," he said into the glowing surface.
The image of Karl appeared—Kael's mirror image, except thinner, paler, and wearing a constant haunted look.
"My lord..." Karl bowed low, his voice tight with guilt and weariness. "There's something you must know."
"Speak."
Karl hesitated, eyes shifting. "I believe... the power does not come from the Divine Tree alone. It's tied to him. To Dirk. The purple magic—it answers to him. Not the tree. Not the land. Him."
Duke Vaelreth's expression didn't shift, but something cold passed through his eyes. "You're sure?"
Karl nodded once. "I've watched him. His weapon glows with it. Even the villagers have begun to gain strength just by being near his estate. The Divine Tree thrives unnaturally fast. I fear he's... something else."
"And what of your brother?"
"...He knows nothing."
Vaelreth stared at him for a long moment, then gave a slow, grim smile. "Good. Maintain the illusion. Report back when he shows more signs. And remember—your family's safety depends on your loyalty."
Karl lowered his head, voice a whisper. "I understand."
The image faded.
Meanwhile, back in my village, I stood outside the garden wall, watching the night sky with Kael beside me. He was sipping warm cider, content, unaware of the storm his twin brother was feeding.
"You've done well, Lord Dirk," he said, voice casual but sincere. "Didn't think I'd see the day nobles would come here asking to rent stalls."
I gave him a tired grin. "I didn't think I'd see the day we'd have nobles buying bread from Ella."
We both chuckled.
But I couldn't shake the strange sense of unease in my chest.
As if... someone, somewhere, was watching too closely.
Later that night, deep within the quiet staff quarters, Karl sat alone on a small bench beside the window, the soft flicker of lantern light casting shadows on the stone walls. Outside, my temporary tent housing hummed with gentle laughter, the warmth of a community basking in celebration and security.
But inside Karl, a war raged.
In his hand was a worn, wrinkled parchment—a coded letter he had received days ago. On it were three names: Rella, Narin, and Old Gramma Irys. His mother, younger sister, and grandmother.
Alive. But not free.
The letter's message was clear:
"Continue the reports. Or their safety is forfeit."
He clenched the paper until his knuckles turned white.
He didn't ask to be a spy.
He never wanted to lie to Kael, his twin. But he had no choice. The moment Duke Vaelreth discovered Karl was still alive—and working in the village under my banner—he'd seized his family from the border village and twisted the knife.
Karl rubbed his temples, breath shaky. The guilt of every report sent to the duke weighed heavier than his blade.
Suddenly, there was a knock.
He hastily folded the letter and shoved it under the cot.
"Come in."
The door creaked, and Kael stepped inside, still in uniform but with his usual easy stride and sharp eyes.
"You're up late," Kael said, dropping onto the opposite bench, glancing at his twin with a faint smirk. "That's rare. You were always the early riser, remember?"
Karl forced a laugh. "Guess the cider's too good tonight."
They sat in silence for a moment. The unspoken tension always simmered beneath their conversations these days. Kael didn't seem to notice—but Karl felt it with every breath.
"Can I ask you something?" Karl asked quietly, staring at the wall.
"Of course."
"Hypothetically..." Karl hesitated. "If someone you cared about was in danger... because of your job. Would you betray the people who trust you? If it meant saving them?"
Kael's brow furrowed. "That's... one hell of a hypothetical."
Karl's throat tightened. "Just answer it."
Kael leaned forward, thoughtful, resting his elbows on his knees. "If it were me? I'd try to find a third option. I'd try to protect both. Find a way around the threat. Betraying someone who trusts you... especially if it's someone you admire or owe your life to? That leaves a scar you'll never shake."
Karl turned away, blinking hard. "But if there was no third option?"
Kael was quiet for a moment, then spoke softer. "Then I'd choose the people I love. But I'd carry that shame every single day. And I'd make damn sure it ended with me. That no one else ever got hurt because of it."
Karl swallowed, eyes burning.
"Why?" Kael asked, studying him. "Something you want to tell me?"
Karl shook his head quickly. "No. Just a thought experiment."
Kael gave a half-smile. "You always were the thinker between us."
He clapped Karl on the shoulder and stood. "Come on, get some sleep. Big patrol tomorrow. Lord Dirk's planning to open the east side fields soon."
Karl forced a nod. "Yeah. I'll be there."
Kael paused in the doorway. "Hey, Karl?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you're here. I don't say it enough. You're one of the few people I trust with my life."
Karl looked down, jaw clenched. "Thanks... brother."
As Kael left, Karl sank back onto the bench, pulling out the letter again. His fingers trembled.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to the dark. "Just a little longer. I just need time... to find that third option."
*****
In a chamber far beneath his estate, Duke Vaelreth stood before a massive map made of bone and obsidian, veins of red light pulsing through it like a living thing. Dozens of carved figures represented nearby lands and nobles—but one section of the map had begun to glow with a distinct purple hue.
Robinson's Territory.
"His mana signature has begun to seep into the fabric of the region itself," Vaelreth said aloud, addressing the gathered council of shadowed figures. "A sickness, if you will, masquerading as progress."
A cloaked man stepped forward. "You believe the Divine Tree was not born of the land?"
"I know it," Vaelreth hissed. "No tree—no matter how divine—should radiate power that shifts the elemental leylines of the kingdom. And now, nobles flock to him. The people chant his name."
He gestured to the purple-glowing area on the map. "If he isn't stopped, the king may turn his favor to him."
The mention of the king made the air colder.
Another figure spoke. "But the king is dying. Cursed. None have lifted it. Not even the high priests."
Vaelreth narrowed his eyes. "Yes. And that is precisely why Dirk must be watched. His magic, his people, his technology—they are not of this world. If he dares seek the throne... or worse, heal the king, he becomes a threat to the balance."
He pointed to a black figurine on the map.
"Mobilize the Wraithborn Assassins. Observe his adventurers. If Dirk dares the dungeon north of Greyspine, intercept him."