The palace was silent, save for the echo of armored boots on polished marble. Torches flickered along the gilded walls, their flames bowing as if in reverence to the man seated upon the Dragon Throne.
The Emperor’s gaze was fixed on the scroll before him—a detailed report of the Iron Fangs’ annihilation. Crimson wax sealed with the hunters’ sigil had been cracked open, its contents hastily delivered.
“Twenty men,” he murmured, voice soft but carrying like a blade drawn in silence. “Slain in one night. Commander Ren among them.”
A chill rippled through the ministers gathered below. No one dared speak. No one could.
Finally, the Emperor rose, his presence heavy, suffocating.
“Two decades we told the people the Shadows were no more. We fed them lies until they believed. But now—” His lips curved into a faint smile. “—now a ghost walks among us.”
A trembling minister bowed low. “Y-your Majesty… if the people learn the truth—”
“They will learn what I allow,” the Emperor cut in, his tone like ice."What I do not allow shall not be learnt, never."
He turned toward the captain of his guard.
“Send word to the Black Lotus Sect.”
The court gasped.
The Black Lotus—mercenaries, assassins, and spies who thrived in chaos—were infamous even among killers. Unlike the Shadows, they swore loyalty to no one but coin.
The Emperor’s eyes glinted with cold fire.
“If the Heir wishes to crawl out of his hole, then let him face the vipers I release. The Shadows once ruled from the dark—but this empire is mine now.”
Far from the palace, Kael moved silently across the rooftops of the capital. His cloak billowed with each leap, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
The old man followed, his cane tapping softly against the tiles.
“The Emperor will not sit idle,” he warned. “He knows now that the heir lives.”
“Good,” Kael replied, never slowing. “Let him come. Let him send his dogs.”
The old man frowned. “You mistake this, Kael. The Emperor does not send dogs. He sends snakes.”
Kael halted atop a rooftop overlooking the city. The moonlight washed his mask in silver, shadows curling at his feet like living things.
“Then let the snakes come,” he said, voice hard as steel. “The Shadows do not fear poison. We become it.”
In a hidden chamber deep beneath the palace, torches flared as a group of cloaked figures entered. Their leader, a woman with eyes like burning coals, bowed before the Emperor’s envoy.
“You called the Black Lotus,” she said, her voice smooth and venomous.
The envoy’s face was pale, his hands trembling as he handed her a pouch heavy with gold. “The Emperor commands it. Eliminate the Shadow’s heir.”
The woman’s smile was sharp, predatory.
“Consider it done.”
Her hand traced the dagger at her side, its blade blackened with poison.
“After all,” she whispered, “what better way to kill a shadow… than with a lotus that thrives in darkness?”
The game had begun.
The Shadows had returned.
But the empire would answer with fangs of its own.
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