Obsidian's cold gaze stayed locked on Desmond, while the rest of the Vesperians stood tense, draped in shadows and suspicion. The flickering torches around the room danced with unease as Obsidian's voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Let's say I agree to your terms," he began slowly, arms behind his back as he paced. "How can I be certain you won't stab us in the back? See..." He turned briefly, his eyes narrow and sharp. "We've heard some disastrous things about you, Desmond. Your interactions with others—Hollow, the marines, even the royal guards—they don't exactly paint a trustworthy picture."
He kept walking, a slow circle like a hawk sizing up prey. "Not one person has put their faith in you. And now, here you are, in front of my people... as if everyone is just another piece on your game board."
Desmond let out a low chuckle, the sound calm but biting. "Oh come on, Obsidian. You say that like I'm hiding the fact I play to win. Let's not pretend you'd trust anyone else more. I'm just... honest about it."
A few Vesperians tensed further, hands inching closer to concealed weapons. And in that thick tension, Desmond's eye caught something.
A flicker.
Just the barest ripple of movement at the edge of the gathering. One cloaked figure—tall, lean, with a distinctive glint of silver on his collar—was already slipping away. His stride was too smooth, too calculated. In the blink of an eye, he vanished into the dark trees surrounding the mansion. Not a soul turned to see him go.
Except Desmond.
His smile twitched.
Huh. Slippery one.
He said nothing.
Obsidian didn't seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn't show it. He returned to his seat and raised a hand. "I'll allow your presence for now, Desmond. But understand, the Vesperians don't forget betrayals."
Desmond gave a mock bow, casual and smooth. "Wouldn't dream of crossing you. I just want what's beyond the gate. The underwater city beneath Cascade Cradle. You have access. I want the route."
Obsidian's eyes narrowed. "That knowledge is sacred. Ancient. Buried with our dead."
"Then let's dig up some graves," Desmond said with a grin.
The room remained tense, but the game had begun.
And somewhere in the distance, among the shadows and the snow-covered forest, Dareth was already running—an agent of silence, eyes sharp, lips sealed. Whatever he had seen, or whatever he planned, he was no longer part of the gathering.
But Desmond had seen enough.
Dareth moved like a shadow through the underbrush, silent and swift beneath the forest canopy. The flickering torchlight from the Vesperian mansion dimmed behind him, filtered by thick branches and hanging moss. He didn't look back. He didn't need to.
"Heh... Desmond, huh?" he muttered under his breath, keeping his pace light but calculated. "That man's a walking time bomb. Sooner or later, he'll blow this whole thing to ash."
His expression darkened as he ducked beneath a low branch, barely disturbing a single leaf.
"They're all so damn focused on the city above. But that's just a mask. A distraction. The real prize... is below."
He gritted his teeth as he navigated the narrow path deeper into the forest, thoughts spiraling.
"That ancient tech. The sleeping ruins... the Cradle's Heart. That's what matters. Not some stupid coup for control. Obsidian's playing king on a rotting throne."
He slowed only for a second, eyes scanning the trees.
"Desmond wants access? Figures. He's not here for power. He's here for whatever's buried under our feet. Just like me…"
Dareth's gaze sharpened. He clenched his fist.
"I'm not letting someone like him beat me to it. If that place really holds what I think it does—there's no way in hell I'm letting it fall into anyone else's hands."
Then, just like that, he vanished into the forest's embrace. A faint shimmer was all that marked his departure—barely noticeable, but just enough for Desmond to catch a flicker in the corner of his eye.
The marine's smirk twitched. His eyes narrowed.
"Hmph... So one of them's got a head on his shoulders," Desmond murmured, tapping his boot twice on the wooden floor. "Let's see how far you get before I catch up."
Dareth moved swiftly through the winding roots and broken stones of an old pathway only he seemed to know. Eventually, he arrived at a narrow cavern hidden beneath a collapsed ruin—its entrance covered in moss and long-forgotten sigils.
He slipped inside without hesitation.
The interior was cool, damp, lit only by faint, glowing crystals embedded in the walls—remnants of the old world. Ancient machinery hummed softly around him, long since dormant but not dead. A large stone table sat at the room's center, covered in scrolls, maps, and a single glowing orb pulsing with life.
Dareth rolled up his sleeves, set his cloak aside, and muttered to himself again.
"Alright... Desmond will keep Obsidian busy. That gives me time—maybe a day, two at most. But once that idiot starts moving on the surface, Cascade Cradle's defenses will tighten."
He unrolled a map and tapped on a marked portion labeled Depth 9 – Central Valve Point.
"That's where the access port is. And if the stories were right, it'll lead straight into the lower vaults of the Cradle. I just need the override keys... and enough power to wake the terminal up."
He turned to a corner of the cave, where a mechanical cylinder softly ticked—inside, a dormant energy core glowed red.
"I knew it was worth stealing this from the last ruins. With this... I might just be able to wake up the heart chamber."
His voice lowered, steady with anticipation.
"If what they said about the Cradle's Heart is true—if there really is an ancient source of ability enhancement buried there—then I'll become more than just another Vesperian."
His eyes gleamed.
"I'll surpass Obsidian. Desmond. All of them. And I won't just rule Cascade Cradle... I'll break it open and take the power for myself."
He placed both hands on the table, leaning forward.
"No more shadows. No more hiding behind cloaks and false loyalties. When this is over... they'll know my name."
To be continued...