The Storm Tower | Vol.4, The Eldenarian Artifacts ✓

8.

Makaela found herself standing in Thorian Tedorof's chambers in Castle Braexus—the headquarters for House Tenebris and the Order.

However, his room wasn't in its usual state. His large bed was unmade; the sheets were lazily thrown about and there were more pillows on the ground than on the actual mattress. Elsewhere, his desk was cluttered with spellbooks, scrolls, and vials of a dark, blood-like substance.

She frowned as she slowly walked around.

Thorian always kept his room clean. For it to be in such disarray...

She shook her head. Criticizing the cleanliness of the dark magician's abode wasn't the reason her dream had brought her there. She was here for something else. For what, exactly, she didn't have the slightest clue.

So, she continued to snoop around.

A fire crackled in the fireplace on the other end of the room. Even in her dream state, she could smell the charred, crackling embers as the burning wood wilted down into splinters. Shadows danced on the portrait-covered walls, performing an eerie jig that made Makaela keep her head on a swivel.

She felt like everything in the room—from the door knocker to the gargoyle statues perched atop pillars in the corners—were staring at her. Nothing in the room could see her, though. Not while she was dreamwatching.

At least, that's what she thought.

"I was wondering when you would come."

She froze. Her veins turned into rivers of ice water colder than the glaciers of the Arctic. Slowly, she turned around.

Thorian stood on the other side of the room, robeless and his silver hair spilling down her shoulders like moonlight streaming down from the clouds. He donned a sleeveless black tunic decorated with purple runes that revealed his thin—almost sickly—frame. The blackened veins originating from his mauvue charm had spread from his left eye down to the base of his chin. Soon, they would have covered the entirety of that side of his face.

The skin of his face sagged off his cheekbones. Dark bags hung beneath his eyes and he looked paler than usual. As Thorian took a step forward, he winced. Makaela squinted at him.

"Forgive me, Makaela," he rasped. "Even in a dream, I can't escape the pains this body holds."

"How did you know I'd come here?" She stayed near the fireplace, making sure to keep a big enough gap between the two of them.

He smiled, revealing his teeth. "I've been waiting for you here every night for several weeks. He told me you would visit. And, alas, here you are."

"He... You mean Mauvorin."

He nodded.

His secret had long been out. However, she and Madame Alizeh were the only ones who knew he was serving the dark god.

"What else has he told you?"

"He told me you will die by my hand."

"And you believed him?"

Thorian huffed. "Of course."

Makaela tilted her head. "Why are you working for him? Don't you know Mauvorin can't be trusted? He's the god of treachery and tricks and chaos—"

The man sliced a hand through the air, cutting her words down. She shut her mouth and straightened her back, eyes widened slightly.

"Mauvorin believed in me when no one else would," he spat. His words were coated in scorching venom. "He chose me to be the savior of our people. No one else treated the prophecy as the threat it was. Your father was willing to let us fall victim to our future without even putting up a fight."