NOVEL NEXT Chapter 391: Summon The Others
The room was dark, its walls curved inward like the inside of a cracked bell.
Black stones lined the floors, etched with deep carvings that stood out against the stone, shining with a dull, soundless light.
There was no door, only a hanging sheet of thick black velvet separating the room from the air outside.
The general exhaled before stepping through it.
She walked across the hollow floor, her boots making no sound against the cursed stone, until she reached the figure standing in the center of the room.
The silver-masked Elder, the Warden of Law, didn't turn to face her. Instead, he stood there, arms crossed behind his back, watching a silent illusion projected before him.
He could see the glowing threads tracking the flow of movement throughout the layer. It was information he was privy to, from the Warden of Statistics.
"I assume you're not here to give me good news," the Elder said, his voice quiet but somehow reaching every corner of the wide room.
The general fell to one knee.
"They escaped."
The silence stretched.
The illusion shimmered before collapsing into static, and the silver-masked Elder finally turned.
"Explain."
"We had the building surrounded. Six Knights. Two hidden in shadow, two in the street, and two at the rear. I gave the signal once they were all in the house."
"And?" The Elder asked.
"They didn't engage." The general said through clenched teeth. "He must've sensed something."
"The moment we attacked, they were gone. Teleportation. We tried tracking the spatial residue, but the signature led nowhere."
The Elder said nothing for a long time. Then he stepped forward.
"I gave you one task, General. Just one. Monitor. Encircle. Then destroy. And yet..."
"They were faster than we expected." The general cut in, regretting it the moment the words left her mouth.
The Elder raised a gloved hand, and the general's voice simply vanished, her mouth still moving and her throat working, but no sound came out.
The silence blanketed her tighter, somehow feeling more oppressive than being crushed under stone or the threat of death.
"I am not a creature of excuses," the elder said softly. "Nor do I have patience for incompetence."
The general bowed lower, her hands trembling slightly.
But then the elder's hand dropped, and the sound returned.
"I should end your service here," the elder continued. "But we are too close to the fracture point."
He turned, walking to the far side of the room, where an orb glowed over an obsidian altar shaped like a tuning fork.
"Are the Choir's agents already in position?" He asked.
"Yes." The general said quickly. "Across all layers. The shard is feeding steadily."
The Elder placed his hand upon the fork. It flared to life, patterns appearing over its surface, rippling outward like a soundwave that could be seen instead of heard.
"I do not like this." The Elder said, gazing into the orb. "A loose end like this makes me uneasy. What do they know? Who will they meet?"
He paused.
"Maybe the time has come to escalate."
He reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out a small disk, the object flat, glassy, and carved with intricate channels like veins.
He placed it at the base of the altar, and immediately it responded, lighting up as if ignited from within.
"Deliver a message." The elder said without looking. "Summon the remaining elders of the Choir. I want them here. Immediately."
The general's eyes widened. "All of them?"
"All of them." The elder said. "Our window has changed. If this Terence and his companions have even an inkling of what we are about to do, we can't allow them to go unchecked."
He grinned. "It is time the full voice of silence was heard."
A deep vibration moved through the chamber, and above them, the black stone ceiling seemed to groan softly in response.
The elder stared upward.
"Leave."
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The inner chamber of black stone was silent as the Warden of Law waited.
He stood alone with his mask upon his face, gazing up at the suspended crystal formation that hung in the center of the ceiling like an upside-down spire.
It vibrated faintly with power, humming just below the threshold of sound.
It was his personal war drum, passed down from his father, and his father's father. It had been in their family since generations, but no one had truly known what it was capable of. Not until he found it.
He'd found the old book in his study, detailing the three artifacts that had been in their family for as long as it had existed, and their uses.
The first was the Shard of Oblivion itself. He had planted that in the district office his compatriot had graciously provided.
The second was the altar before him. The same place where the Shard could be controlled.
And the third was the crystal formation. It provided range for the effect of the shard.
Everything was ready. All he simply had to do was wait for the others to arrive.
He did not pace. He did not fidget. He simply stood at the centre of the room, waiting, his hands clasped behind his back, and his face hidden behind the expressionless silver mask that had been a gift from his mother. Every Elder was required to wear one. It was tradition.
Instead, he studied the threads of light around his compound, his eyes roving over the information that their badges sent to them.
And then, three new threads of light entered the room.
The curtain of silence that blanketed the outer corridors parted for the only ones allowed to walk freely in its presence.
The other Elders of the Choir.
They arrived together.
The first was a tall woman, draped in sweeping blue and white robes, the sigil of Carthage woven into the front like a brand.
She was known as Maren, the Warden of Statistics.
Her silver mask was narrower than his own, looking hawkish, enhancing her almost mechanical movements for all to see.
The second was a wiry, pale man with ink-stained fingertips and dull green eyes peeking through the carved slits of his mask.
He wore a long coat adorned with tiny scrolls tucked into its many loops. His name was Kant, the Warden of Knowledge.
And behind them, head bowed silently, was his general.
"Maren. Kant." His voice was calm, but it carried a gravity that filled the room. "You're late."