The Last Whisperer

8 | The Shadow of Crescent Peak~

The horse galloped down the bridge as it crossed the river surrounding Crescent Peak.

Crescent Peak—the island hill where the Cerulean Palace grounds were built. It was the place where the Ivy League met during conference meetings, and where the current royal family resided. The Cerulean Palace was a luminous architecture that shone in the moonlight, resembling a cerulean crystal tower itself. It was a beacon of Iveneterra at night, a reminder to everyone that gazed upon it that it was there.

Artero Vaugh Van rode on his horse as the black cloak he wore swished behind him. He was alone when the clock stroke midnight as he crossed the river that separated Crescent Peak from the rest of the world.

A pair of guards stationed at the end of the bridge saw him coming and rushed to ring the giant bell that announced his arrival. Artero whooshed past them like a hurricane, and the suddenness of it forced the guards to jump backwards. Nobody wanted to get trampled by his dark horse.

Like many of the people that frequented on visiting Crescent Peak, he was returning this hollow place they called a palace. It could not be helped that he had to come back just in time for the conference. After all, he was the shadow of the Ivy League. Still, if he had the power to decide, he would have continued to stay away from the place. The Cerulean Palace was a shallow and empty place that drained his soul whenever he stepped foot on it.

He and his high horse crossed the massive courtyard fountain. Artero pulled on the reins when he reached the landing of the set of stairs that led up to the entrance of the palace. He unmounted his horse, just as a servant offered to take care of it for him.

Artero first entered the grand ballroom. It was empty and none of the candles were lit. The floor was made of black and white marble. The walls supported the balconies with intricate columns—two large staircases led up to the upper level. Artero marched up the steps and continued to the inner, deeper parts of the palace.

He saw a total number of two maids dusting the place. They saw his presence and immediately curtsied. He ignored them both with a plain face and kept walking down the hallway.

It was dark—the place was absolutely deserted. Behind Artero, his shadow was darker than the rest. It was also bigger and thrived in environments like these. The shadow-flurries misted up from the ground like black smoke as he turned the next hall, brimming with life.

Artero Vaugh Van was different.

He was the kind they called a 'Shadowsmith'. Much like a blacksmith that forges on iron, Artero had the power of shadows. He did not use any particular Moonstone—he was just born with the affinity.

Only two people in their world were naturally born with special affinities—him, Artero Vaugh Van—the Shadowsmith—and Monique Wrillwraith—the Ribboner—his cousin.

They were eternal rivals since birth.

Artero was headed for his old quarters when he sensed a presence from inside.

He hesitated for a millisecond, before finally going in and closing the door behind him.

The room was lit by the candelabras. Books were fixed on the shelves on one wall, the bed was made and untouched, and the curtains were open, revealing a window that foresaw the river.

Standing beside that window was his father, Kaiser Wrillwraith—the brother of the current king.

"I heard Prince Monique was back in town," Kaiser said without looking at his son. "He's still alive and walking on his two feet. Care to explain why?"

Artero knew this was coming. He stayed by the door and bowed his head. "I'm sorry, father. I failed to find his location."

He heard his father's footsteps coming closer. He did not so much as move or resist when Kaiser swung a backhand to his face. The rings on Kaiser's knuckles dented his cheeks.