Sorcerer's Shadow - Chapter 45: Nyxara

What remains a mystery is the whereabouts of my earnings. Given the high fees for assassination, I should’ve been wealthy. I was residing in a pleasantly comfortable apartment (truly lovely, with a stunning blue and white carpet and a spacious kitchen equipped with a built-in wood stove), but its cost wasn’t exorbitant. I ate well, spent a substantial amount on magic lessons, and hired a top-tier fencing instructor, but none of these expenditures accounted for the amount of money I was earning. I’m not much of a gambler, which is a common way many Vorgans lose their money. The whole situation is baffling.

Naturally, I can account for some of it. For instance, I got acquainted with a Terran girl named Jasmine, and we spent close to a year in each other’s company. You’d be amazed how quickly entertainment expenses can pile up when you’re dedicated. And then there was a phase when I was constantly teleporting—two or three times a day for several weeks. That was when Jasmine and Cotti were both in my life, and I didn’t want them discovering each other. It all ended when the repeated teleportation took a toll on my health, leaving me too exhausted to be of use to either. I guess, looking back, that could explain a considerable chunk of the expenditure, right? Teleportation services don’t come cheap.

However, the numbers still don’t quite add up. But then again, does it really matter?

* * * *

My initial impression was that we had stepped outside. In a way, I was correct, but it was unlike any outdoors I had experienced before. There were stars, similar to those my grandfather had once shown me, glistening with intense brightness. There were so many of them…

Soon, I noticed a crick in my neck and felt the air turning chilly. Beside me, Drevolan remained mesmerized by the stellar view. I nudged him, “Drevolan.”

“I had forgotten how they look,” he confessed. Shaking off his awe, he took in the surroundings, and I followed suit. We then noticed figures seated on majestic thrones—the Arbiters of Afterlife.

Two sat directly in front of us, while others scattered around what appeared to be a vast circular arrangement of thrones and chairs. Some were seated close together, in pairs or groups, while others were isolated. The colossal, green entity before me, around fifty feet away, intrigued me. As Drevolan led us closer, I could make out its scaly skin and its enormous, deeply sunken eyes. It was Celethor, and an inexplicable urge to bow before him washed over me, which I managed to resist.

Beside Celethor was a figure resembling an Imperion, draped in a gown that kept changing colors, with an arrogant face and hair as fine as Haze. An extra joint was noticeable on each of her fingers. It was Nyxara, the Demon Goddess of legend, revered by my ancestors. To her right, I half expected to spot her legendary sisters, and I believe I did—one petite and always veiled in shadow, and the other with skin and hair flowing like water. I consciously avoided their gaze, mustering the courage to continue following Drevolan.

There were other figures, but my memory of them is hazy, except for one who seemed clothed in flames and another who was continuously appearing and disappearing. How many were there? I couldn’t say for sure. I distinctly remember a few, but I’m sure there were more. My recollection paints a picture of thousands, perhaps millions of them, but you’ll understand if I admit that my senses might have been overwhelmed.

Drevolan guided us towards a spot between Nyxara and Celethor. As we approached, their enormous stature seemed to be an optical illusion. We halted about fifteen feet away from them, and they appeared large, but not grotesquely so. With his green scales and massive pale green eyes, Celethor was imposing, while Nyxara’s ever-changing attire and shimmering hair remained captivating. Despite their otherworldly appearances, they seemed more approachable compared to the rest of the entities in the vicinity.

Both of them noticed our presence simultaneously.

Drevolan respectfully inclined his head, though not as much as he had done for Verill. I didn’t attempt to decipher it; I merely bowed myself, far more profoundly. Nyxara swept her gaze between us, then turned towards Celethor, appearing to wear a smile. I couldn’t quite gauge his expression.

Then she directed her attention back to us. Her voice, as she spoke, was rich and resonant, yet peculiar. It was as though her words echoed in my mind simultaneously with me hearing them, creating an unnaturally sharp clarity in her speech. This oddity required me to pause and recall her words, which were, “This is unexpected.”

Celethor remained silent. Nyxara glanced at him, then back to us. “What are your names?”

Drevolan announced, “I am Drevolan D’Lira, the Duke of the House of the Dragon.”

Gulping down my nervousness, I responded, “Viktor Dravos, Baronet of the House of the Vorgan.”

“Well, well, well,” Nyxara retorted. Her smile seemed oddly distorted and imbued with sarcasm. “It appears that you both are alive.”

“How did you figure that out?” I asked.

Her smile broadened slightly. “When you’ve been in this line of work for as long as I have…”

Interrupting, Celethor asked, “What brings you here?”

“We have come to plead for a life.”

Nyxara raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh? Whose life?”

“My cousin’s,” Drevolan answered, gesturing towards the staff.

Celethor extended his hand, and Drevolan promptly handed over the staff before stepping back.

“You must hold her dear,” commented Nyxara, “since by coming here, you have renounced your right to return.”

Swallowing my fear, I remained silent. Nyxara seemed to notice this as she shifted her gaze towards me, saying, “Your case is more complex since Terrans don’t belong here in the first place.”

I decided to hold my tongue.

Nyxara turned back to Drevolan and queried, “Well?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think she’s worth your life?”

Drevolan replied, “It’s imperative. Her name is Thaleia d’Kyran, and she is the Dragon heir to the throne.”

Nyxara recoiled in surprise, staring at Drevolan. The sight of a god taken aback was truly terrifying.