CHAPTER 98: WHISPER

Whisper moved through the world like a secret. It was not a living thing, not truly. It was a piece of its master’s will, a shard of his power given form. It had no thoughts of its own, only the mission.

Watch. Listen. Report.

It left the floating city of the Eon Emporium, its transparent wings beating without a sound. It flew over the recovering province, like a ghost passing over a healing land.

It saw the new farms being planted, the roads being rebuilt, and the small towns slowly coming back to life. The mortal world was a busy, noisy place.

Whisper felt nothing for it. Its only purpose was to serve its master, Rhys.

Its first destination was the capital of the Ashton clan. The city was heavily guarded. Tall walls and watchtowers stood like silent sentinels.

Soldiers in the Ashton family’s red and black armour patrolled the streets. They looked strong and disciplined. The city was a fortress, a place built to keep enemies out.

Whisper was not a normal enemy. It activated its Void Phase trait. Its dark, ashen body became completely intangible.

It was no longer a physical thing; it was a shadow, a thought. It passed through the thick stone walls as if they were made of air.

It drifted past the patrolling guards, who felt nothing but a faint, momentary chill.

The Ashton family estate was a massive compound in the centre of the city. Whisper moved through its halls and courtyards.

It observed the guards and the servants. At first, everything seemed normal. The guards stood at their posts.

The servants cleaned the floors and carried trays of food. They moved with purpose.

But Whisper, with its connection to its master’s sharp perception, saw the wrongness. Their movements were too perfect, too repetitive.

Their faces were blank, their eyes empty. They moved like puppets, their strings pulled by an unseen hand. There was no life in them.

Whisper moved deeper, its form a silent wisp of shadow. It passed through locked doors and secret passages. The feeling of wrongness grew stronger.

The air became cold, and the silence became heavy, like the silence of a tomb. It reached the heart of the estate, the grand council chamber where the family’s elders made their decisions.

It passed through the heavy, carved wooden doors. The sight inside was a frozen nightmare.

The patriarch of the Ashton clan, Rhys’s uncle, sat at the head of a long, dark table. The other elders of the family sat around him. They were all there.

And they were all dead.

Their bodies were perfectly preserved. Their skin was pale, and their eyes were open and staring, but they saw nothing.

They were corpses, arranged like dolls in a playhouse. They were not just dead; they were empty shells, their souls gone, their bodies now just vessels for a power Whisper could not understand.

A cold, silent command echoed in Whisper’s mind. A new directive from its master, who was seeing everything through its eyes.

Investigate the others.

Whisper did not hesitate. It turned and flew from the dead hall, from the city of puppets. Its speed was a blur.

It crossed the province in a matter of hours, a silent phantom moving faster than any spiritual beast.

It went to the Thorne family’s territory. It was the same. The bustling trade city was a silent stage. The powerful Thorne warriors were lifeless puppets. The elders were cold, empty corpses in their meeting hall.

It went to the Sterlings, the masters of alchemy. The same horrifying scene. The vibrant workshops were silent.

The skilled alchemists were dead puppets, their hands frozen over cold cauldrons. The family leaders were hollow-eyed statues in their opulent manor.

It went to the Crestfalls, the keepers of knowledge. The same. The libraries were filled with the dead, their bodies propped up with open books in their hands, as if they were still reading.

Finally, it reached the grandest city of all, the royal capital of Azuregard. It passed through the golden gates and the heavily fortified walls of the royal palace.

It moved through the opulent halls, past guards who were nothing more than empty suits of armour animated by a dark will. It reached the throne room.

The king sat on his throne, a golden crown on his head, his eyes staring blankly at the empty hall. He was a corpse.

The entire royal family, the princes and princesses, were arranged around him, a silent, dead court.

The five great families of the Azure Province were gone. They were all dead. An entire generation of power, an entire society of rulers, had been silently erased and replaced with an army of the dead.

Whisper had seen enough. Its mission was complete. It had uncovered the terrible secret. It had to return. It had to report to its master.

It turned and flew back towards the Eon Emporium. It flew with a new sense of urgency. The danger was far greater than its master had anticipated.

This was not a simple plot; it was a silent conquest. An unknown enemy had taken control of the entire province without a single fight.

Whisper was halfway back, flying high above the dark canopy of the Whisperwood. It was moving through the empty sky, a silent, invisible messenger.

Then, the world tore open.

It was not a sound or a flash of light. It was a rip in the fabric of space itself. A hand reached out from the tear.

It was a pale, slender hand, its fingers long and elegant. It moved with a speed that was faster than thought.

Whisper had no time to react. It had no time to even sense the danger. The hand closed around its small, ashen body.

There was a gentle pinch.

Whisper’s form, the body of an Ashen Knight that could withstand the blows of a Stage 2 beast, simply... dissolved. It turned into a fine, grey ash that drifted away on the wind.

Its connection to its master was severed. Its existence was erased.

The pale hand slowly retreated back into the tear in space. As the rip in reality healed itself, leaving no trace, a single, low whisper echoed in the empty void.

It was a voice that was both ancient and full of a cold, obsessive hunger.

"Rhys... Rhys... Rhys..."