NOVEL NEXT Chapter 211: Lady In Dark
In the silent expanse of the underground throne room, the air was thick with power, the kind that pressed down on the very soul.
Shadows whispered faintly, breathing like living things as they flowed across the floor.
At the center sat a throne that seemed to have been carved from the abyss itself, veins of dark energy crawling over its surface.
Lord Vine reclined upon it, his figure half-shrouded in the writhing darkness that leaked from him.
His face was hidden in the dim light, only the faint glint of glowing red eyes betraying that he was even alive.
The massive doors at the far end of the chamber groaned open.
The sound echoed through the hall like the cry of a dying beast.
From the darkness beyond, a lone figure entered, cloaked, graceful, and silent.
Her presence was commanding, the darkness itself seeming to part for her.
She stopped before the throne, nodding in acknowledgement, not deference.
"Lord Vine," she said, her voice cool and calm.
"Lady in Dark," Vine murmured, his voice deep and resonant, reverberating through the room. "It has been some time."
"Too long," she replied. "I came to know… what our next move is, now that Othello has fallen."
At that, Vine smiled faintly. The shadows on the floor rippled outward like disturbed water.
"Othello was a necessary loss," he said. "He played his part well. The plan continues, unchanged."
Lady in Dark tilted her head. "You mean the palace ball?"
"Yes," Vine replied. "The threads are already in motion. Everything will converge there. The night of celebration will become the night Camelot remembers forever."
She was silent for a moment, her cloak whispering as it shifted.
"And what of Noah Webb?" she asked finally. "He has proven to be... troublesome."
Vine's smile widened, revealing the faint glimmer of sharp teeth.
"Leave him be," he said. "He still serves his purpose, even if he doesn't know it. When the time comes, his path will lead exactly where it must."
"You trust fate too much," Lady in Dark said, a note of warning in her tone. "That boy has survived things even Othello couldn't."
"That is precisely why he must live," Vine replied. "The boy is a storm. And storms are meant to break the old to make way for the new."
Lady in Dark crossed her arms, the faint edge of impatience in her stance.
"My patience wears thin. The reunification you speak of feels like a distant dream. How long must we wait?"
Vine leaned forward, his throne seemingly glowing darker with the motion. The darkness around him coiled like serpents.
"Not long now," he whispered. "The fractured Camelot will be made whole again, under one shadow, one will, and one rule."
He extended a hand, and the room grew colder. "Trust me, my lady. Everything will go according to plan."
Lady in Dark regarded him in silence for a moment, then nodded.
"Very well," she said. "But if it doesn't…"
"It will," Vine interrupted smoothly. "Because it must."
"Then I shall trust in your judgement."
She turned to leave, and the doors closed behind her with a deep, echoing thud.
In the silence that followed, Lord Vine's chuckles filled the chamber.
"Do not worry, my lady. You shall get what you want."
[][][][][]
A week had passed in a slow, sunless blur.
Noah's days in the infirmary had begun with nothing but the steady, rattling beat of his own heart.
Mana fatigue had not been a dramatic collapse so much as a slow evaporation.
Cecilia visited twice more, serious and distant, pressing handfuls of paper into his hands.
They were notes, diagrams, and snippets from the library about rituals and abyssal affinities.
Arlo came by more than once, loud and placating, filling the quiet room with clumsy jokes until Noah nearly snapped at him, then softened and listened when the other boy chose to be quiet.
Princess Ines appeared once, sober and strange, and sat across from him as if she were keeping a quiet vigil.
Her presence felt both like an accusation and an inexplicable comfort.
Sometimes, it felt like she was mad at him, and others, like she was holding back her curiosity.
He didn't ask.
He slept many hours, and when he could not sleep he read. Old compendia on ritual mechanics, accounts of demon contracts, the practical appendices on binding and void-space.
He practiced tiny things the nurses could not see, his spell formations and mana control.
By the fourth day, his mana had been replenished, and he could now stand for a few hours without the room tilting.
By the end of the week he was as healthy as he'd ever been. Maybe even more so.
He checked his stats.
[Status:]
[Noah Webb]
[Race: Dark Dragon]
[Rank: F]
[Potential: FFF]
[Affinities: Darkness, Fire, Void, Decay, Hunger]
[Core Attributes:]
[Strength: F+]
[Endurance: E+]
[Agility: E+]
[Mana Capacity: S]
[Magic Control: S]
[Skills: Roar (FFF-Rank), Dark Furnace (SS-rank), The King's Dominion (SS-rank), Decay of a Thousand Ages (SSS-rank)]
[Spells: Fireball (F-rank), Flame Spark (FFF-rank), Devour (B-rank), Rot (D-rank), Blackflame (D-rank), Pillar of Judgement (A-rank), Void Bolt(S-rank), Utter Annihilation(SSS-rank), Frigid Hunger(F-rank), Eternal Cradle(B-rank), Null Stride(A-rank), Pocket Cube(S-rank)]
He left the infirmary with a list of things to do and a single, terrible focus.
The exams.
Now it was the first day of the next week, the beginning of the exams, and the Theriology hall sat waiting for him.
Students filtered into benches with nervous smiles and last-minute cramming notes.
Sunlight slanted through high windows and pooled on the floor like it was cheering them on.
Professor Geldrin droned on about the rules of the exam.
"Answer every question," he said, eyes sweeping the room like a hawk. "And the use of any materials beyond what you were permitted is prohibited."
"There shall be no external aid, and no collusion. And, this is important, do not be caught cheating. Any violation will be dealt with severely."
Papers were distributed with a rustle.
Noah accepted his sheet, the paper cool against his palm.
He scanned the first section.
The identification of species, classification of merged-beast traits, and historical accounts of domestication attempts.
He answered as best as he could.
The questions in the middle section were clinical.
Metabolic response to abyssal infusion, signs of contract-bonding on a subject's aura, and countermeasures to spontaneous hybridization.
They were things he'd read in fevered hours and seen in fragments during the last month.
He filled them in.
Then he came to a section that pinched the back of his mind.
Protocol-based scenarios asking for decisions given insufficient information.
There were questions that required knowledge of clandestine distribution networks, indicators of engineered potions, and where to look first if a sample pointed toward artisanal manufacture.
He found himself staring at that page, wondering how he was going to answer it.
He wasn't even sure about his earlier answers, so if he got these ones wrong, there was a chance he could fail, and he didn't like it.
There was just something he didn't like about the idea of a hero who couldn't pass first year at the academy.
That was when Professor Geldrin's voice filled his head.
The man had said do not be caught cheating. He hadn't said do not cheat.
A smile appeared on Noah's face.
The exam paper stared up at him, blank where his next answer would be.
But his mind was already elsewhere, running the first outlines of how he would bend the rule without breaking it.
It was time to cheat.