Sheilalev Ortfalcon glanced to nothing—her eyes looking like yellow tulips depleted of light. Her servants were standing just a distance away from her as she bathes, guarding her chamber doors, face being covered by their moss-covered shawls.

In Sheila's eyes—there wasn't anything but the color of night. She used to perceive many colors, and she wished she admired them better when she was still able to see the beauty of sight. But then she took it for granted—and here she was now, blind.

It did have its own perks. She was able to have her senses sharpened. This had resulted in the good for her, considering she still was the high priestess even when she lost her sight years ago. But then again, maybe also an outside force partic.i.p.ated in maintaining her position as the priestess.

Alexander Octavius.

The first king.

Sheila hears the chamber doors opening with a slow creak. Although still unable to perceive who it was, she turned her gaze and darted her eyes to the source of the sound.

"High Priestess." Says the voice of a male; one of Sheilalev's butlers. "Your audience is requested."

"In this early morning without prior notice?" Asks Sheilalev, her brows furrowing. What kind of insolent person would request her presence at such short notice? Usually, n.o.bles would still have to wait for a week or so before she could grant them an audience. She was Sheilalev Ortfalcon—the heir to one of the high-ranking families in the kingdom, and she was the High Priest of the whole country. They ought to give her respect.

Hearing such dread news about someone asking her presence so hastily had sent her brows twitching—but then again, these requests can only be duly noted by her servants. Why did her butler have to go as far as to disturb her in her bath?

"Yes," says the butler, hesitation laced upon his tongue. "She is in the courtyard, being served tea by the maids."

"Such insolence. Now, pray tell me this woman." Sheilalev exclaimed.

"It is Elindei Rosanna Feuerfalke, High Priestess." Says the butler. "She requests your presence to discuss important matters."

Rising from the waters slowly, the Diener des Lichts sauntered soundlessly to Sheila and aided her out of the bath. Beads of water dripped onto her breast down to her luscious curves. The servants then wrapped a silk around her body delicately, and as she robed fully, she started to walk forward, a smile slowly etching to her face.

"I shall grant her a presence. And butler—bring forth my staff. I have a feeling that a rat had followed her tracks." Sheila exclaimed, narrowing her eyes as she feels a force getting stronger at every step she took.

**

"Elindei," exclaimed Sheila, coming to the courtyard with her Diener des Lichts behind. It was a sunny morning—the roses were being their full bloom, conveying their fragrant whiff to Sheila's nose. Elindei sat on opposite of the table, drinking tea.

"Priestess!" Says Elindei the moment she met that of Sheila's eyes. She rose to her seat, and then gracefully bowed.

Sheila bowed as per tradition. Feuerfalkes were just below the dukedom, the Feuerlons—but they were higher than the Ortflacons. As per courtesy, Sheila returned the bow along with her Diener des Lichts. What makes them equal now is the fact that Sheila was granted the Priestess t.i.tle.

"Lady Elindei," says Sheila, her head focused to where Elindei was. Supposedly where she was—given the fact Sheila wasn't able to see; Elindei's voice was the only guide she has to be able to pin where she was.

"What brings you here?"

Elindei ambled her way to Sheila—her eyes fierce with determination and reason. The servants watched how she reached to both of Sheila's hand, and as if to beg, she says the words none at that moment could've predicted.

"Please," Elindei stated. "Help me stop Ezekiel Unsterblich and Lucas Feuerlon."

Sheila stopped--"what?"

"I know this sounds crazy," she exclaims. "But I know they are leading my father to some sort of a trap."

"That's one baseless accusation, Miss Feuerfalke." Sheila said, "I don't think you have the right to speak of the dukedom that way."

"I know," Elindei answers. "But I trust that you'll understand."

For a second, Elindei waited for Sheila's response, eager and anxious about what will come out of the priestess' lips.

"Very well." Sheilalev retorted, lighting up Elindei's eyes.

"Thank you!"

"But before we begin—" Sheilalev exclaims. "Pray tell who is your company?"

"Oh! Where are my manners?" Elindei exclaims, blus.h.i.+ng. She then walked to the man who was standing behind the chair where Elindei sat, so still and unmoving.

Sheila's eyes widened as she felt the force getting stronger. And this time, she recognized what it was. She clenched her staff—tightening her grip to its wood. Although she cannot see, she knows that the person whom Elindei was with carried such heavy, strong magic unimaginable. She could feel the Diener des Lichts growing more and more vigilant. It was a good thing she went with their protection.

"This, Priestess, is my lover," she says giddily—"ah, forgive me for being shameless. I brought him here because he was the one who raised the concerns to the plans being proposed by Lucas and Ezekiel,"

The man bowed. Sheila could tell from the air's change of flow.

"How do you do?" The man asks. His voice had an uncanny resemblance to someone else—someone whom Sheila wasn't familiar with, but had been engraved on the depths of her mind—like a person from the crowd with a distinctive tone. His voice was alluring, almost enticing, in fact.

The moment the man touched Sheila's hand, and pressed his lips on the back of her palm—an electric current ran towards Sheila's fingers, spreading throughout her body.

There's no mistake about it.

The man carried dark magic!