The underground chamber stank of old blood and candle wax. Stone walls pressed in like the throat of some sleeping beast, and the flickering torches gave off a light that made everything seem slightly off—too shadowed, too alive.
Lucien stood in the center of the room, facing six others. They were the broken ones—the outcasts, the desperate, and the disillusioned. Each had been chosen carefully.
A disgraced noble whose family had been ruined by the Church's taxation laws.
A half-demon boy barely older than Lucien, abandoned after a scandal buried by the clergy.
A mute girl who could read thoughts if given a drop of blood.
A potionmaker expelled for experimenting on aristocrats.
A former knight with a shattered hand and a shattered pride.
And finally, Mira.
Lucien's eyes settled on her the longest.
Mira wasn't broken like the others. Not completely. But she was cracked in the right places—curious, proud, too smart for her rank. She had watched Lucien from a distance, and now she had come to see the truth herself.
None of them knew everything about him. That was the point.
They only knew that Lucien was planning something, and they were desperate enough to believe it might save them too.
"You're not asking for loyalty," the knight rasped, crossing his arms. "You're asking for a gamble."
Lucien nodded. "All plans are gambles. But this one has better odds than most."
The half-demon boy tilted his head. "What's in it for you?"
Lucien's smile didn't flicker. "Let's just say I don't like how the game is being played."
Silence. Then, one by one, they nodded. Not in agreement, but in understanding. Desperation makes truth easy to swallow.
He didn't need their trust—only their usefulness.
After the meeting, Lucien stayed behind, studying a worn map of the capital. His fingers brushed against a circled spot: the Cathedral of Saint Elrik. He could almost hear his mother's scream echoing from its spires.
Just then, Mira approached. Her steps were quiet, but not quiet enough.
"You're planning something much bigger than you let on," she said.
Lucien looked at her. "Would you believe me if I said it's personal?"
Mira studied him. "You don't seem like the type to let emotions guide you."
"They don't," he said. "But I remember pain better than I remember names."
Mira folded her arms. "I don't know what you're trying to build, Lucien. But if it crumbles and I'm standing on top of it—I won't hesitate to push you down."
Lucien chuckled. "I wouldn't want you to."
She left after that, but not before he caught the way her eyes lingered—just a second too long. Another thread in the web.
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End of chapter 17