The journey back through Silvermoon’s darkened streets was nothing like their escape hours earlier. Matrim walked between two silent Guardians, Narianna at his side, while High Lady Calthira led the procession like a phantom moving through the shadows. No chains this time—Calthira hadn’t ordered it—but the weight of her presence felt heavier than any iron.

  The streets of Silvermoon, even under starlight, were ethereal. High arches framed by ivy-draped towers, cobblestone alleys that glimmered faintly with magic. Yet despite its beauty, Matrim felt no comfort here. He could sense it in every step beneath his boots—the vibration of ley lines still pulsing, like faint tremors waiting to surface.

  Glancing to his side, Matrim caught the briefest flicker of tension in Narianna’s jaw. She hadn’t spoken since Calthira’s arrival. Neither had Vaelor, trailing behind them with eyes burning into their backs.

  You trust her? Matrim thought as he watched Narianna.

  Her posture remained steady, unreadable. But Matrim noticed the faint clench of her gauntlet as they crossed beneath the towering gates of the Wardens’ Bastion.

  Inside the fortress, the halls were quieter than before. The few Guardians they passed saluted the High Lady with swift deference, then retreated, as if wary of lingering near her.

  They were led deeper this time—beyond the cells, beyond the training halls, into a side chamber Matrim had never seen. Its walls were smooth white stone, carved with delicate symbols of the Sunwell and the city’s earliest rulers. At its center stood a circular table with three ornate chairs, positioned beneath a high-vaulted ceiling that shimmered with soft, silver light.

  Calthira turned to face them. “Leave us,” she ordered.

  Vaelor bristled. “High Lady, with respect—”

  She raised a hand. “You’ve made your position clear, Captain.”

  His jaw tightened, but with a sharp bow, he withdrew alongside the other soldiers.

  As the doors sealed behind them, the room felt suddenly heavier.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Matrim stood, arms crossed, watching as Calthira approached the circular table and gestured to the seats. “Sit.”

  Narianna obeyed immediately. Matrim hesitated, then did the same, lowering himself onto one of the elaborately carved chairs.

  For a moment, Calthira simply observed them both. Her expression was serene, but her eyes were as sharp as a blade.

  “You,” she began, speaking to Matrim, “are not just an outsider wandering into Silvermoon’s heart by accident.”

  Matrim leaned back, masking the lingering pulse of power still vibrating faintly beneath his skin. “I didn’t come here looking for trouble.”

  “No,” she said. “But trouble found you.”

  Matrim exhaled slowly. “The ley lines. The pull beneath the city. It’s like I was drawn to it.”

  Calthira nodded. “Because you were.”

  He frowned. “How can you be sure?”

  Her pale eyes flicked to Narianna. “Because you are not the first.”

  Narianna’s crimson eyes widened slightly, but she remained silent.

  Calthira clasped her hands behind her back. “Long ago, Silvermoon was built atop something older than the Sunwell. Older than the city itself. Those attuned to it—those with a rare bond to the leylines—feel its pull. Some fight it. Some vanish chasing it. And others...” she let the sentence linger, eyes returning to Matrim, “become conduits for it.”

  Matrim stiffened. “Conduits?”

  “You tapped into that power beneath the Gardens tonight,” Calthira said. “Not fully, but enough for every leyline ward across the city to react.”

  “So, what does that make me?” Matrim asked, voice steady. “Some pawn in a game you’ve been playing?”

  “You’re no pawn,” Calthira replied. “You’re a variable. One Silvermoon cannot afford to ignore.”

  Matrim studied her, trying to read past her calm facade. “And the corruption beneath the Gardens? The thing poisoning the leylines?”

  “The Umbral Court,” she said with quiet certainty. “They’ve returned.”

  Narianna’s voice finally cut in, sharp and laced with frustration. “We warned the council. You dismissed the signs.”

  Calthira’s gaze softened—barely. “Because revealing it would cause panic. Our people are fragile, Narianna.”

  “And now it’s spreading,” Narianna countered. “It’s in the roots beneath the city.”

  Matrim’s eyes darted between them. “If it’s that dangerous, why not deal with it openly?”

  Calthira’s voice dropped. “Because this city is already fractured. Factions within the council seek power. They would use the Court’s return to seize more of it.”

  Matrim gritted his teeth. “And where does that leave me?”

  Calthira’s eyes bored into his. “With a choice.”

  Matrim tensed.

  “You can walk away,” she continued. “I’ll release you quietly, and you’ll never see Silvermoon again.”

  Matrim’s heart pounded as the pull beneath him flared, stronger now, undeniable.

  “And if I don’t?” he asked.

  Calthira’s expression hardened. “Then you stay. And you help us stop what’s coming.”

  Silence filled the chamber. The pulse beneath Matrim’s boots beat louder, like the city itself was waiting for his answer.