*
*
*
The nobles of Velmire whispered behind silk fans and jeweled goblets, but none dared speak the name too loudly.
*"The Ember Syndicate."*
Not after what happened to Sir Brel.
A corpse nailed to a throne of salt, his sins spelled out in his own blood. His estate seized by the crown—but it wasn't the king who found it first. It was the rats. The spies. The whispers.
It was *them*.
And now the capital wanted answers.
---
🕸️ *Spinning the Web*
Back in Blackmoor, *Thorne* stood over a chalk map sprawled across the old chapel floor. Strings of red and black thread connected pins—names, trade routes, power structures. Each thread was tied to a throat he could slit.
Ruby approached, her red hair now glowing under torchlight.
> "The nobles are panicking. Rikkan says they're moving money out of the city."
> "Good," Thorne replied. "We'll rob it before it gets far."
Lysena entered behind her, in a repurposed noble's coat now dyed coal-black. Her magic pulsed faintly at her fingers—controlled, elegant.
> "I intercepted a summons," she said, tossing a scroll. "The Crown has sent a diplomat to investigate. One of mine."
Thorne caught the scroll.
> "Name?"
> "Lord Merek Thalos. My cousin. Dangerous, smart... and cruel."
> "Do you want to kill him?"
> "Not yet. I want to *humiliate* him first."
---
🔥 *The Shadow Auction*
Meanwhile, Rikkan was busy organizing something new: the *Black Auction*—a gathering of underground fixers, blackmailers, and scavengers where forbidden goods were sold in whispers and code.
It was to be the Syndicate's first public move.
Held in the ruins of a forgotten cathedral beneath the city, lit only by candles and strange runes, the auction offered poison, contracts, relics—*and information.*
Their biggest item: *a list of corrupt judges*, hand-written by Sir Brel before his death.
> "This is how we become myth," Rikkan told Thorne, grinning. "We don't just kill... we *shape the rules.*"
> "And who's guarding the auction?"
> "Ruby. Of course."
---
🩸 *The Bloodmist Guest*
At the auction, masked figures filled the chamber like ghosts. Ruby stood above them on a dais, one foot on the edge, her blade drawn but relaxed. Lysena, veiled, whispered spells under her breath to trace truth from lies.
But midway through the night, a new arrival came.
Tall. Hooded. Silent. His mask was carved from bone and lacquered in red.
"Who is that?" Ruby muttered.
"Nobody we invited," Lysena said.
The figure moved directly toward Thorne, who was watching from a shadowed balcony. He stood still, unarmed.
"You're the one who killed Brel," the figure said in a dry, male voice.
"He deserved worse," Thorne replied.
"You're playing a dangerous game. I came to offer a warning... and a gift."
He reached into his cloak and pulled out a scroll.
"The Church has marked you. You're no longer a rumor. You're a threat."
Then he vanished.
The scroll read:
*"The Twilight Church declares the Ember Syndicate heresy incarnate. Burn the ash before it chokes the flame."*
---
🕯️ *Quiet Between Storms*
That night, Ruby found Thorne on the orphanage rooftop, watching the city breathe.
> "You're calm," she said.
> "I've already lived through the worst of this."
> "And me?"
He looked at her. The wind caught her hair. The fire in her eyes didn't dim.
> "You burned brighter than anyone. Even at the end."
She said nothing for a while.
> "I dyed it again today," she whispered. "But it's already fading."
He didn't respond. Just reached out, brushed a strand behind her ear.
> "Then let it fade. Let them see the flame."
And they stood like that, two ghosts reborn, while the city below shifted—and the gods above took notice.
---
*End of Chapter 6*