Daron emerged from the

  bath, a towel casually draped over his shoulders, and glanced over at

  Valara. "Nice day, isn't it?" He tried to sound nonchalant, though his

  eyes lingered on her face for a moment. "Everything alright?"

  Valara

  nodded silently, her gaze fixed on the empty roof opposite. Her brow

  was slightly furrowed, as if she'd seen something there. Daron followed

  her line of sight. "Did you see something?" he asked, this time with a

  hint of concern in his voice. But Valara didn't respond, her eyes

  drifting back to the floor. Daron also looked at the roof but couldn't

  spot anything.

  "Come

  on," he said finally, forcing a smile. "Let's head down and see what

  Minora has to offer this morning." He hoped Valara would be drawn out of

  her trance, even if just a little. Together, they descended the creaky

  stairs.

  The bar

  smelled pleasantly of coffee and something sweet. Minora stood behind

  the counter, absentmindedly polishing a glass. As Daron and Valara

  reached the bottom of the stairs, her gaze shifted to them, attentive

  but warm.

  Suddenly,

  Mirabella bolted down the stairs, her meowing echoing through the room

  as if demanding immediate attention. "Who hasn't had their breakfast

  yet?" Minora asked with a soft smile, petting the cat before placing a

  bowl of fresh food for her.

  Minora

  straightened up and turned to Daron. "Anything new with her?" Her eyes

  briefly rested on Valara, though her tone remained calm.

  Daron

  shrugged. "Not really... she's looking after Mira, but who doesn't love

  Mira?" A faint smile crossed his lips, but inwardly, he was worried.

  How much longer could they give Valara time? Lyssara wouldn't be patient

  forever. "I don't know," he added, "how much longer we can afford to

  give her."

  Minora nodded thoughtfully. "Hmhm. I'll keep an eye on her. You need to leave soon, don't you?"

  "Yeah,

  I should get going." Daron felt the weight of responsibility pressing

  down on him. Eventually, Lyssara would start asking questions, and he

  wasn't sure how he'd respond when that time came.

  Minora

  just nodded, turning around to start working in the small kitchen

  behind the bar. "I'll make you both something to eat," she said, as the

  familiar sound of eggs sizzling in a pan filled the room.

  Soon

  after, she set plates of scrambled eggs, bread, and steaming coffee

  before them. Daron, Valara, and Minora sat quietly at the table. Valara

  ate slowly, almost mechanically, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. Daron

  watched her from the corner of his eye. He knew she still had a long way

  to go, but how long would it take?

  Finally,

  he broke the silence. "I have to leave soon," he said, setting down his

  cup. "But you'll stay here with Minora, okay?" His voice was calm,

  though the worry gnawed at him.

  Minora

  placed a hand on Valara's shoulder, smiling gently at her. "And if

  you'd like, you can help me prepare the bar today," she suggested. "Or

  you can just stay here and rest. Whatever you prefer."

  Valara

  nodded slowly, her eyes still on the floor, and Daron knew she was lost

  in her own thoughts. He hugged Minora quickly in farewell. "Take good

  care of her," he murmured before heading to the door.

  Minora smiled and nodded. "You know I will." Then she playfully pushed him out the door. "Now go, before you get into trouble."

  Daron

  gave a small smile, but as the door closed behind him, his worry for

  Valara lingered. How much longer could they keep this up before

  everything fell apart?

  Valara

  picked at her food for a little longer. Her fingers moved without her

  paying much attention. Her gaze wandered around the bar, but the

  surroundings gradually faded from her awareness. Her thoughts seemed to

  spread like fog, while her hand unconsciously brushed her forehead, as

  if trying to ward off an unpleasant pressure building there. She briefly

  looked at Mirabella, stroking the cat absentmindedly. The gentle

  contact was comforting, but the knot inside her refused to loosen.

  As

  Daron disappeared through the door, Valara felt a dull ache in her

  chest, as though she had lost something she couldn't quite grasp. Not

  sadness, not fear—something in between, a quiet sense of loss. Her eyes

  followed him until the door closed behind him, and for a moment, the bar

  felt eerily empty.

  Minora

  returned to the bar, standing directly in front of Valara. Her gaze was

  warm, full of concern, but gentle enough not to push. "Don't worry,

  Valara. Nothing can happen to you here. Daron will be back tonight, I

  promise." Minora's voice was calm, as if her words alone could lift the

  weight from Valara's shoulders. "Would you like to help me a bit?"

  Valara

  hesitated for a moment, as if she needed to understand what that meant.

  A part of her wanted to move, to do something, anything, just to avoid

  sinking into the dark thoughts lurking at the edges of her

  consciousness. Finally, she nodded silently, though making that decision

  seemed harder than it appeared.

  Minora

  smiled encouragingly and hurried to the side room. When she returned,

  she was carrying a bucket and a broom. "I'll sweep up here. Would you

  mind wiping down the tables, sweetheart?" Her voice was light, but her

  eyes rested on Valara with compassion.

  Valara

  took the cloth and began wiping the tables. Her movements were routine,

  almost mechanical, yet she felt the heaviness in her thoughts growing.

  Each swipe over the smooth wood surface pulled her further away from the

  bar, and suddenly, an image flashed so vividly and intensely in her

  mind that she froze. The cloth slipped from her hands. The bar

  disappeared from her sight, and she was back in the throne room—the

  place where she had been more than just a servant.

  Her

  fingers started to tremble as the memory struck her with full force.

  The images flared in her mind—familiar yet eerie, as if they had always

  been there but belonged to a strange, cold world. Her heart raced as the

  vision took shape. The next host... The word shot through her mind, and

  her breath caught. It hit her like a blow: I was meant for Aranthia.

  The

  realization crashed over her like a wave. Aranthia hadn't merely chosen

  her as a servant; she had prepared Valara to be her host. She

  remembered the strange looks Aranthia had given her—not the eyes of a

  mistress, but of a seeker, one in need of a suitable host. The Elder had

  trained her, prepared her. Diplomacy, magic, combat—all of it hadn't

  been meant for service but to carry, to extend Aranthia's power. Her

  teachers had imparted skills she never questioned: how to deal with the

  rich and powerful, with the Elders and key figures, the art of combat,

  the making of potions.

  Her

  chest tightened, and the truth seemed to suffocate her. What normally

  happened to the Elders' hosts was inevitable: the erasure of their own

  existence. The thought that she should have been erased, that her

  identity would be reduced to a shadow of what she had been, made her

  tremble inwardly. I should have been erased...

  A

  cold shiver crawled up her spine, and her breathing became shallow.

  Aranthia's voice—or was it her own?—echoed dully in her head: "You were

  mine." The words seemed deeply ingrained in her mind, as if they had

  always been there, a constant whisper she couldn't shake.

  Minora,

  noticing Valara's sudden stillness, paused her work. She set the broom

  aside and approached Valara. "Valara?" Her voice was quiet, gentle but

  full of concern. She placed a hand on Valara's shoulder, and the touch

  seemed to pull the young woman slightly back to reality. "Everything

  alright?" Minora's words were like a thin thread, trying to draw Valara

  out of the depths of her thoughts.

  Valara

  barely heard her. Her thoughts were buried deep in memories—rituals,

  the training she had undergone with Aranthia. She had learned from the

  best teachers how to navigate the world of the powerful, how to combine

  technology with magic, how to survive in combat. Now, she finally

  understood why. Aranthia hadn't wanted just a servant. She had intended

  Valara's soul and body for herself. Valara felt how narrowly she had

  escaped that fate, and the chill of that realization seemed to sink into

  her bones.

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  A cold

  draft swept over her as she recalled watching Aranthia die. Now she

  understood the true reason why Aranthia had targeted her. The only

  reason Valara was still alive was because of the assassin and the blade

  that had severed Aranthia's mind before it could fully take hold in her.

  But

  had that been enough? Had nothing of Aranthia remained within her? Her

  fingers dug into the edge of the table as if trying to anchor herself in

  reality, to avoid being swept away by the overwhelming thoughts. Was

  she still truly herself? Or was she merely a shell, tainted by

  Aranthia's dark plans?

  Minora,

  unaware of the turmoil within Valara but sensing her unease, stepped

  closer. She spoke softly, almost soothingly. "You don't have to go

  through this alone, Valara." Her voice was warm, full of kindness.

  "Sometimes, it helps to hold on to small things."

  Valara

  nodded silently, but inside, a storm raged. Keep going—that was all she

  could do to avoid falling completely into the abyss of her thoughts.

  Her fingers clenched the cloth, and she slowly picked it back up. She

  continued wiping the table, her movements mechanical, almost like a

  machine that had to keep functioning to avoid shutting down.

  But

  deep inside, the tormenting question remained: Had everything of

  Aranthia truly been destroyed? A constant whisper lingered in her head,

  barely audible, but still there. "You are mine," it seemed to say over

  and over. Was it just a memory, or was part of Aranthia still within

  her?

  The bar suddenly

  felt smaller, as if the walls were closing in. The gentle scent of

  coffee, once comforting, now seemed to suffocate her. Minora kept

  glancing at her with concern, but Valara could barely notice.

  Valara

  had lived as a servant for so long that she had grown accustomed to

  being invisible. But now, she knew her invisibility hadn't just been a

  shield. It had been part of a greater plan, a plan in which she would

  have had no role—except as a vessel for Aranthia. And now, with every

  thought returning, she realized just how narrowly she had escaped her

  fate... or perhaps not at all.

  Minora

  approached again, a soft smile on her lips that she carefully placed to

  avoid alarming Valara. "You're doing well, really. But you don't need

  to push yourself if you don't want to. You're safe here." Her voice was

  gentle, almost like a promise she was making to both herself and Valara.

  Valara

  lifted her head to look at Minora. Her eyes were empty, but deep

  within, something simmered—a battle that Minora couldn't comprehend. She

  nodded again, because it was easier than speaking.

  "It's okay," Minora whispered, her hand still resting reassuringly on Valara's shoulder. "You don't have to rush anything."

  But

  Valara knew it wasn't that simple. Rush? Everything inside her seemed

  to be racing, fleeing from what was growing deep within her. The

  question of whether she was still herself, or whether Aranthia still

  lived within her, gnawed at her, as if it had bored into her mind.

  A

  tremor ran through her body. She dropped the cloth, her fingers

  twitching slightly, unable to hold it. Minora looked at her directly

  now, the concern in her eyes more evident than before.

  "Valara?"

  Minora asked gently, stepping back to give her some space. She could

  sense that something was going on within Valara that she couldn't

  explain.

  Valara's

  breath was shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her hand

  reached for the table, as if searching for something solid, something

  tangible to pull her out of the whirlpool of her thoughts. But the

  images, the memories—they were too strong, too intense.

  "I..."

  Valara whispered, but the rest of the sentence stuck in her throat.

  Finding the words was hard. How could she explain what was going on

  inside her when she didn't understand it herself?

  Minora

  stepped closer, speaking softly: "You don't have to say anything. I'm

  here. You're not alone." She gently placed her hand on Valara's

  shoulder, a silent promise that she would stay by her side, no matter

  what happened.

  Valara

  nodded, her thoughts a tangle of fear, memories, and uncertainty. She

  was here, and yet she was trapped in another world, one shaped by

  Aranthia.

  While

  Valara wrestled with her inner demons, Daron stepped out of the bar into

  the cold, crisp air of Elaris. The door clicked softly shut behind him.

  Daron climbed into a carriage that would take him to Industria, the

  headquarters of the Shadowguard.

  The

  carriage rattled through the narrow streets. The familiar, crumbling

  fa?ades of Alt-Elaris gradually gave way to the steel structures and

  towering chimneys of Industria. Gears and machines moved constantly,

  setting the city's rhythm.

  The streets grew narrower, and soon the monumental building of the Schattenwacht came into view.

  The

  Schattenwacht, the headquarters of the Shadowguard, loomed like a

  silent giant over the streets of Industria. Anyone seeing the building

  for the first time felt an indistinct weight on their shoulders. The

  fa?ade of dark basalt was smooth and untouched, as if time itself had

  halted before this place. A faint hum filled the air, barely audible but

  unmistakable.

  Fine,

  glowing lines ran along the walls, reminiscent of enchantments that

  offered more than mere protection. The tall towers reached into the sky,

  and on the balconies stood guards, their silhouettes almost merging

  with the morning fog. The city lay beneath them. The soft whisper of the

  glyphs seemed to blend with the footsteps of the guards, like a

  constant murmur that only those who lingered long enough could hear.

  The

  main entrance consisted of a massive iron gate, adorned with intricate

  reliefs. Inside the Schattenwacht, a flurry of activity was

  ever-present. The corridors, long and cool, were illuminated by

  flickering blue energy orbs hanging on the walls. The air was cool,

  almost frosty, and a strict discipline permeated every fiber of the

  place.

  For many

  citizens of Elaris, the Schattenwacht was an enigma—a place both

  protective and terrifying. It embodied the power of the Schattengarde,

  but also its relentless determination to crush any form of rebellion.

  The stone walls gave the impression that no one could escape, that every

  movement, every thought was observed and judged.

  The

  carriage came to a sudden halt, and Daron stepped out, the familiar

  weight of duty pressing heavily on his shoulders. He had been part of

  this force for years, yet today everything felt different. The worry for

  Valara and the uncertain future of the city weighed heavily on him. No

  sooner had he crossed the massive entrance gate than he heard a familiar

  voice.

  "Daron!"

  called Joren, his partner in the Shadowguard, who was waiting for him.

  Joren's face was as friendly as ever, but his eyes held the same concern

  that had accompanied Daron throughout the journey. "How's Valara?"

  Daron

  hesitated briefly. "She... still isn't talking. But she's looking after

  Mira, at least that's something." He avoided going into more detail.

  Joren noticed this and dropped the subject. "We've got a lot to do

  today."

  Joren only nodded. "We have a lot to do today." He gestured towards the upper floor, where a heated argument could be heard.

  "What's going on?" Daron asked as they climbed the stairs together.

  "General Kharon and Lyssara are arguing." Joren looked concerned. "It's about Silver Harbor and... Aranthia."

  Daron's

  eyes narrowed. As soon as they reached the top floor, they could hear

  the raised voices more clearly. General Kharon, commander of the Iron

  Guard, stood at the center of the confrontation with Lyssara, whose

  calm, cold voice provided a sharp contrast to his anger.

  "You

  should have been better prepared!" Kharon thundered as they approached.

  "Aranthia's death has thrown the city into chaos. We can't afford

  negligence. There are so few of us left."

  "The

  situation is under control, General," Lyssara replied coolly. "You're

  overestimating the damage. We're already working on solving the

  problem."

  "It's not

  just about the problem, Lyssara! It's about what this murder means for

  us. For Elaris. For the balance of power in this city!" Kharon's voice

  shook with rage.

  Lyssara

  stood up, her eyes flashing coldly. "I don't need lessons from you on

  the balance of power. The Schattengarde has the situation under control,

  and we will continue to ensure that no one threatens the stability of

  Elaris."

  The tension

  in the air was palpable. For a moment, there was icy silence before

  Kharon abruptly turned and stormed out of the room. He cast a sharp

  glance at Daron and Joren before descending the stairs, his steps

  echoing heavily through the building.

  "That was... tense," Joren whispered as the door to Lyssara's office remained open.

  Daron nodded. "Whatever's going on, it concerns us all."

  They

  stepped into Lyssara's office, where the leader of the Shadowguard

  stood by the window, looking out over the city. Her black cloak seemed

  like an extension of the shadows surrounding her, and her silver eyes

  reflected the light of the dawn.

  "Daron, Joren," she said without turning around. "I assume you heard the argument?"

  "Yes, General Kharon seems worried about the consequences of Aranthia's death," Daron replied.

  Lyssara

  slowly turned around, her gaze firm and unwavering. "His concern is

  justified. But he doesn't understand everything. The Schattengarde and

  the Iron Guard are planning a joint expedition beyond the city walls.

  But first, there's an urgent matter that requires immediate attention:

  Silver Harbor."

  "The Guild?" Joren asked.

  Lyssara

  nodded. "They've taken control of the trade docks and are disrupting

  the supply of essential resources. This can no longer be tolerated. The

  two of you, along with two golems from the Iron Guard, will go there and

  restore order."

  The

  hairs on the back of Daron's neck stood up. Golems were impressive

  constructs of stone and metal, brought to life by magic and capable of

  immense destruction. "What are we expecting there?"

  "Heavy

  resistance," Lyssara said curtly. "The Guild seems well-organized, and I

  suspect they have connections outside the city. This mission might be

  more dangerous than it appears at first glance."

  Daron

  and Joren exchanged glances before nodding resolutely. They bid

  farewell to Lyssara and headed to the armory to prepare for their

  mission.

  "Do you think there's more to all this?" Joren asked quietly as he checked his equipment.

  Daron

  paused, his thoughts still on Valara. "Since Aranthia's death,

  something has been set in motion. Whatever's happening at Silver Harbor

  might only be the tip of the iceberg."