Moonlark Turned Evil

27: Midnight

I'm back!

There's been a lot going on lately, but I finally managed to make enough time to write this.

And Stellarlune's coming out today! (I think??)

I'm really excited to see what happens.

Anyway, happy reading!

Two months into the first term of Foxfire, the Phoenix headquarters were finally completed.

Over half of the Neverseen agents disappeared on the same day, leaving a chaotic mess of flooded toilets and stolen files and broken gadgets.

Lady Gisela Sencen found herself pacing through the empty senior council room, her lip curled back in a snarl.

Out of the six senior councillors, only her and Vespera remained.

Half their forces were gone, most of them high-ranking Guilds, and four people in the senior council dared to resign?!

Not to mention Ales's betrayal.

She was their trump card, their strongest member, and an important part of the deal with Queen Ilith. 

And she was the Neverseen's Keeper.

She kept all of the Neverseen's secrets in her photographic memory, from the most mundane things to where every single one of their bases were located.

Worst of all, Gisela was worried Queen Ilith might break off their alliance if she discovered their puppet had disappeared.

As Gisela simmered, Vespera remained completely calm. She tapped her finger lightly on the table, sighing as Gisela paced through the room.

"Lady Gisela," she said levelly. "Please sit down. There are more important matters at hand than whether or not you can wear a hole through the carpet."

Gisela gritted her teeth in anger but obeyed, clenching her fists as she sat across from the numb Empath. "And why," she said, irritation seeping into her tone, "are you so calm about this, Lady Vespera? Were you planning this from the start?"

"What an accusation," Vespera said flatly, tracing circles with her finger, she looked up at Gisela, not moving anything except her eyes. Her gaze was stone cold. "I can hardly believe we're sisters in the same rebellion."

"That's not the point here." Gisela unclenched her fists and placed her hands delicately in her lap, the picture of elegance. "Who did this, is what I'm asking."

"Who?" Vespera raised a delicate eyebrow. "Well of course, it was Ales. Your little pet."

"She would never betray the Neverseen," Gisela argued. "You read her emotions every time we met, didn't you? Did you sense her wavering?"

Vespera merely shrugged, straightening her posture and staring down the length of the table with her cold, blank eyes. "I did not sense any problems with her loyalty to the Neverseen Lady Gisela. Then again, you came up with that brilliant idea to teach her how to project emotions."

"That was partly your idea, Lady Vespera."

She only got a thin smile in reply.

Vespera watched Gisela's jaw muscles clench tighter.

Vespera wasn't irritated because she couldn't be irritated. It was as simple as that.

And she doubted she would be angry even if she had emotions.

She had been planning to kill off the Neverseen soon, anyway.

Ales made her plan easier.

First we slaughter the traitors, Vespera thought to herself. Then I'll turn to the rest of them. As for Gisela . . . I think I'll keep her alive for a while. She's more useful to me that way.

The world was a chessboard and she was its player.

The edges of her lips curled upwards.

Elen, unlike most people who joined the rebellion, didn't have a sad past.

Her parents hadn't been murdered in front of her, her village hadn't burnt down.

She had lived a peaceful and ordinary life before her agent days.

Even when she joined the Neverseen at age fifteen, she wasn't driven by anger or some kind of revenge.

She didn't have the same motives as everyone else, but there was one thing she had in common with almost every person who walked through the halls of secret hideouts.

Councillor Emery.

Codename 'Midnight'.

He supplied underground groups with money and goods, made deals with slave traders, and utilized his position as head Councillor to threaten people.

When Elen first met him, she had no idea who he was.

To her, an innocent eleven-year old girl, he was merely a stranger in her village.

A member of the nobility.

He'd come to visit her village one day.

She remembered pressing her face against the cold window pane, trying to get a glimpse of him. She remembered how awed she was when he walked into view—steps elegant, robes and cloak swishing, jewels shining in the sunlight.

Elen felt the aura of power he projected even from meters away. He seemed perfect in every way, the kind of being she had imagined a god would be like.

And then she met his gaze.

For an instant, she saw the screaming and crying of a thousand years worth of war, corpses strewn across blood soaked battle fields.

She found unspeakable horrors in his sapphire eyes, reflected so clearly that she thought he was standing there himself, blood splattered across his robes, sword in his hand.

Elen looked into his eyes and saw death itself, saw the man who had ordered thousands killed and would do it again, if it meant he was satisfied.

She looked into his eyes and saw the secret he wanted to keep, even if it meant he had to slaughter the whole world.

Councillor Emery left without staying the night.

When Elen turned thirteen, she set out to travel the world.

After two years on the road, she was fifteen and had some decent swordplay. It wasn't much, but it was enough to protect herself from most things.

One snowy day, she found herself attacked by a pack of wolves.

Elen was overpowered, pushed to the edge of a cliff.

Her fingers were numb, her sword was buried deep in the still-falling snow. Her shoes were slipping on the ice as she trembled. She crumpled to her knees as the first wolf started towards her, preparing herself to die.

Elen cracked open one eye.

Red blood stained the snow in front of her.

Oh, she thought distantly. I'm dying.

And then she heard the voice of a young girl, strong and commanding.

"Are you alright?"

Elen looked up into a pair of brown-gold eyes.

She couldn't speak.

She stared up at the beautiful girl in front of her, long blonde hair whipping in the wind, her sword held loosely in her right hand. The blade was stained with blood, and when Elen looked down she saw the corpse of a wolf.

The rest of the pack was already dead, their bodies lying on the red snow.

Elen looked back up at her savior. "W-who are you?"

"I'm Sophie Foster."