❝ when she looks into his eyes, she feels the gripping temptation to tell him all her darkest secrets; the names of the men she has killed, but she learned a long time ago that the only people who can keep secrets are resting in overgrown graveyards...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
5 YEARS AGO...
There was no light inside Shaltrisa. These caves were formed underneath a bustling city, carved with powerful magic and cloaking spells so that only those within the guild could enter. It required blood, pricked from your finger and pressed to the obsidian stone. Sacrifice for passage, someone bound to this place through the wraiths. Calliope only came here when it was necessary. Mandatory meetings called by Sepharin, or to seek out leads from those who had been around longer; those who had eyes and ears everywhere, people they directed like stuffed puppets.
The interworkings of the guild were complex—the politics a matter Calliope steered clear of as much as she could. As the newest member, most looked down on her, but that was fading the more bodies she left strewn across the continent.
Everyone here was lethal. A few were over a century old, but none as old as Sepharin. He was the first assassin, and no one dared to defy him—the blood wraiths mainly communicated through him. They had only ever spoke to the other assassins close to his age, but even that was rare. But Calliope could always tell when they were near. There was a chill in the air, not like a winter day, but like being frozen—encased in ice. It was a chill that went down to her very blood, as if the oath written inside sensed the presence of the creatures. Another sign: every assassin on their best behavior.
They nodded to her as she passed, orange torchlight flickering through her shadow on the dark walls of the cave. Shaltrisa was a branching underground system. Each assassin had a room here. It wasn't much, just a bed and a table and a dresser for weapons. There was also a common area with a bar and several tables that looked like they were coming out of the earth. Everything here had been brought to life through the wraiths' powers. It was why each piece had a dark aura radiating from within.
Calliope settled at an empty table near the back, hoping this gathering wouldn't last too long. This place made her uneasy, especially with the wraiths so close.
There was a sudden tug within her, like an invisible rope tied to her skeleton. She froze, her eyes growing wide. I'm being summoned.
It's like they all could tell. The assassins' heads turned to the young blonde. She swallowed thickly and stood, wiping sweaty palms on her black trousers. What could the wraiths possibly want with her? She was still new to their standards. The only person close to her age was Lawren, and he had been in the guild for ten years. Permanently seventeen.
Calliope's footsteps echoed through the caverns. Her heart raced, thudding against her ribcage. She crossed the threshold separating them from the dark path which led to the hell-like creatures.
Sepharin was waiting for her. He stepped from the shadows, and Calliope wanted to be blunt and figure out exactly what was waiting for her in the hollowed room of dark walls and chilling air. Instead, she made her gaze razor sharp. Unafraid. Strong.
