15.2 || Death to the Twins
The journey back to the Lost Abyss was peacefully uneventful.
Despite Morana peering down every shadow and alley, she couldn't see any signs of the figure that had spied on them earlier.
Perhaps the prince was right after all. Maybe they were merely a passerby and nothing would come of it.
However, if growing up in the Lost Abyss had taught her anything, cloaked people watching you from afar were nothing but bad news.
Before they reached the building that housed Silas' secret base of operations, she motioned for Damian to follow her around a corner.
She glanced around the thin gap between two shops, making sure nobody was skulking in the darkness or observing them from the rooftops.
When she reckoned the coast was clear, she tugged out a brick from the wall and stuffed her necklace in the newly formed gap.
"The job is finished now," she began. "You're free to go back to the castle. We even made it before nightfall."
Damian looked up at the spires of Celnaer Castle looming over the horizon. "I'll come with you. I meant what I said. If Silas somehow knows about what happened, I'll take the blame. I'm going to stick by your side instead of running away like a coward, even if I appear to be one."
Morana wedged the brick back to where it belonged, being careful not to crush the gemstone. Some time apart would do them both some good. "Thank you." She smiled gratefully. "Just don't mention it unless he brings it up."
"You got it." The Fireborn saluted with two fingers. "This mission went as smoothly as it could."
The two entered the hideout, the Orcs standing guard at the door letting them pass with dissatisfied grunts. As they headed up the stairs leading to Silas' office, his voice reverberated through the walls around them.
"What do you mean they're dead?" The fury tainting his tone made Morana flinch, even through the chipped wood of the closed door.
"I checked on them when they didn't return on time and they're all dead. There were also corpses of four royal guards, so the princess must have been with them too." The necromancer could place the alluring drawl that responded to a name no matter how long it had been since she last heard it.
Lillith.
She hadn't wanted to cross paths with the cunning woman again for a long time, yet it seemed she wouldn't be able to avoid that now.
Steering clear of her meant leaving and coming back to deliver the contraption to her boss later, but Morana wanted to know what had happened while they were on the other side of the island.
"So what? The redhead bested them in battle? Brutus and his assassin pets?"
"Not at all. It looks like the dark sickness that's been going around caught them and took them down.
It's stolen hundreds of lives already and nobody knows how it started, only that it's linked to the wall that appeared yesterday evening," Lillith countered.
"That being said, the Wyrith Captain's body was not among the lives they claimed. "
The thud of a blade striking wood echoed around them. "Get out. I'll send for you when I have another plan of action. By now, whatever damage the captain has caused with the information she holds is too late to fix. We need our efforts elsewhere."
"Yes, boss." Moments later, the door opened to reveal a tall woman draped in darkness.
Lillith was the epitome of danger, her presence once making Morana's magic sing with glee.
Now, after she had screwed up the relationship they had, it only snarled as if it were a bloodhound backed into a corner.
Her dark hair was twisted into three sections, creating a waterfall of night that cascaded down her back.
The paleness of her skin rivalled a plain of crisp snow and the crimson on her lips were fresh droplets of blood sinking into it.
Two sharp fangs poked out from underneath her upper lip, a warning to stay away from her unless you minded being bitten.
If her expression could scowl any further, it did. "What a perfect sight to make my mood better." Sarcasm dripped from her voice.
"Keep walking, Lil," Morana retorted. "I've already stained Silas' carpet with enough blood already."
With a fist which quickly furled and unfurled itself, Lillith left with only a sneer in the necromancer's direction.
"Mor?" Silas called out as they entered his office. "If you've come bearing more news of your failures, I will not be happy." He pulled a sharpened dagger out of his desk, woodchips scattering in the aftermath.
"There's nothing bad to report here!" she chimed, pulling out the golden contraption from a belt pouch. "We have the finished... star-thingy you requested and the sorcerer even managed to keep his head on his shoulders."
"Perfect," he replied with a half grin. One that brought out the evilness that twisted his soul.
He picked up the metal and pressed the dark gemstone laid in its centre.
Thin arms outstretched from the points of the star with needles seamlessly woven along them, each one ready to pierce its victim.
"And the payment?" His eyes landed on Damian.
"He asked for a Dragon's scale which I promised I would get him within a week," the Fireborn explained.
"Just as I thought." Silas stood from his chair, reaching for his cane.
"You're free to return to the castle and work on getting that scale tomorrow.
When you have it, Mor will assist you in delivering it.
If you're needed further, you'll receive another note from me.
" He dismissed him with a wave of the metal stick.
Damian nodded, meeting Morana's eyes. She returned the gesture, adding a small smile, before he pulled up the hood of his cloak and left.
Only once his footsteps had faded, the stairs no longer creaking under his weight, did Silas pull out the Necromancer's Tome from his bookshelf.
The assassin took a seat opposite his desk and watched him work.
Her boss placed the tome on the table, its pages opening and closing in protest as if trying to bite his fingers.
When the contraption came into view, it stopped — instilled with fear.
"This has been a long time coming, but finally, everything is falling into place." Setting the main gold star on the book's front, Silas twisted the onyx stone in the middle and the needles stabbed themselves into the flesh of the tome.
An eldritch scream rang from it, making Morana's magic recoil.
It sank into her bones — a silent cry for help.
With a further tug on its pages, it opened, revealing detailed sketches of bones, magic circles, and all sorts of other oddities.
Despite the victory that sidled into Silas' grin, the writing consisted of unrecognisable symbols.
"It will take a moment to translate, but soon we'll have all the power we need to overthrow Wyrith."
"Do you know someone who can read it?" Morana frowned as she found she couldn't tear her eyes away from the book. A sobbing filled her veins — clawing at her magic in a plea to stop its suffering.
"I do." With a short press on the dark crystal, the arms retracted back into the contraption and the tome snapped shut. "In the meantime, the most important stage of the plan is approaching and this task falls to you."
Excitement and dread curled around her chest. She had a bad feeling about the scheme he had been brewing for the better part of a decade. "What do you need me to do?"
"It's time for you to kill your sister."
Every fibre of Morana's body froze — every inch of muscle, every tendril of her magic, everything.
This wasn't meant to happen. This wasn't what she agreed to when she joined Silas' side when he saved her from the clutches of the Molten Sea.
Sure, she wanted revenge for what happened to her that night, to see the person who stabbed a dagger into her chest suffer, but this wasn't part of the deal.
"No. I- I can't do that." If she couldn't be in the same room as Ilyana without panicking, how was she meant to kill her? Not that she even wanted to take the life of her twin.
"Don't fail me now. This is what we've always dreamed of — a chance to overthrow the royalty that has torn our lives to pieces and let them scatter in the wind. They ruined us." A crazed glint appeared in her boss' eyes.
Memories that Morana had pushed to the side earlier that day began to stir. "I can't do it. You have plenty of people to kill for you. Choose someone else."
Silas grabbed her wrist with a grip that would dig bruises into her skin and pulled her in close.
"I don't have anyone else I can trust with this, Mor.
You're the only other person here who knows about the Necromancer's Curse.
Either she dies, or everyone on this island who isn't Wyrith royalty does so instead. Do you want that?"
The assassin tried to pull away, but Silas was much stronger than he looked. "You know I would prefer the former, but it can't be me. I can't do it. You don't have to tell your other assassins your reasoning, just assign them the task."
"When we're the only ones left on this island, who will you choose?
Will you stay by my side? Or will you crawl back to the family that forsook you long ago?
" Her boss released his bone-tight grip.
"Think on it tonight and return to me tomorrow morning.
This is your biggest task yet, I understand that it may appear difficult.
But we cannot afford for you to falter."
Tears formed in Morana's eyes that she begged not to fall. If another sign of weakness slipped from the necromancer, he would only use it to his advantage. Without saying anything further, she left, slamming his office door closed behind her.
No amount of time would change her mind. Morana would not kill her sister.