Secrets & Treasons

Sixth Movement: The Pact | Virshan

In the observation room, silence reigned. Rion's eyes were still glazed over as he stared at the now empty room, and Langlord, breathless, had slumped in his comfortable chair. That was it! The first chosen one had been selected. He couldn't believe it! After so much doubt and hesitation, trial and error, fear and scruples, the wheel had finally turned for him! This tenth group would be the one to succeed where all the others had failed miserably. And these "chosen ones" would make sure that he achieved his master stroke. The most glorious path was assured for him, it was spread out, bright, before his eyes. He had not felt such joy for many years!

He stood up so quickly that he startled Rion, still absorbed in his observation of the empty room. His chief's face had changed so much that he didn't know whether to consider it a good omen or not: it was as if it were luminous... And he was staring again at the candidates' arrival door. With good reason: once again the curtain parted, making room for the next person on the list of Eternals.

Langlord II had always thought he was prepared for any eventuality. He was sure of his presence and his ability to hide his innermost feelings behind the thick mask of appearances. But the man who entered the room, the new candidate, shook his perfectly organized world. A drop of sweat slid down his temple, passed along his cheek and ended up in the hollow of his neck. He blinked his eyes, as if hoping to see the person who had taken his place in the center of the room disappear. Without hesitation, the man's gaze was directed towards the observation wall and his gaze seemed to penetrate it with disconcerting ease. Langlord II swallowed his saliva, unable to take his eyes off the steely blue gaze that stared back at him. A look that reminded him of another, so well known.

Virs...

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"What?!" squealed Nawal as he starred at the human who had entered the room. "What is he doing here?"

"He's like many: looking for his way..." Rom simply said.

"I'm not sure..." Daoud thought aloud, "if it's a good thing that we're continuing on this path..."

"Don't tell me you're suddenly afraid of what might happen next! All this because of this Human? It's fate that has pushed him to come and test his luck here and now. And whatever the case, the ritual cannot be interrupted."

"You may be right, Gotarra," he replied, in a slow doubtful voice. "Let's continue then."

***

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The man, still in the center of the room, stared unblinkingly at the wall in front of him, as if trying to pierce it with his eyes. He was as thin and pale as Markus had been muscular and tanned. As dark, as Markus had been bright. And very tall. Long, straight, jet-black hair framed his face in a pallid hue whose only hint of color was given by a blue gaze as if washed out by time and life. The eyes of his father, Azilis, King of Human.

Pulling his gaze away from the enchanted wall and releasing by this same movement the tension that had tightened on the Human Master, the candidate turned his eyes upwards. With his arms casually crossed at chest level, he exclaimed:

"I am Virshan, bastard of one of the sons you directly sired. Spare yourself any theatrics unworthy of me and test me without delay!"

Virshan, we see you and know you, but don't expect any bias from us! Daoud's calm voice said.

"That is not what I am asking. Test me like anyone else, like everyone else: without benefits and without hassle, that's all I want!"