The Silent Ascent

"Yes, Sir Aden," the soldiers answered as one, their voices blending into one river of orderly deference. Some of the younger men swallowed, their gullets constricted, as the ring of their own affirmation sounded tenuous against the vastness of the knight standing before them. Sir Aden nodded once, his head movement infinitesimal, before turning with the fluidity of a panther and moving back toward the palace. The courtyard, tense with expectation before, lapsed into a new rhythm. Troops went back to their stations, their steps quiet but determined, and bore with them the silent promise to live up to the standard of the man they served.

But even as the palace and its defenders were still busy, Leon and his group were already inside the perimeter. Night fell over the grounds like a curtain of velvet, and his cloak of elements blended with the shadows so that he was almost unseen. Each step he made was purposeful, quiet, and infused with deadly grace, as though the darkness itself curved to encompass him. Natasha led on, her eyes keen and unblinking, shepherding them through twisting passages and hidden ways known perhaps only to insiders. Each step brought them closer to the queen's quarters, where her sister was held captive and helpless.

Nova followed a step behind, her shoulder lightly touching his as she leaned against him. "Leon," she whispered, her voice low, intimate but insistent, "how do you intend to undo the blood bond that holds Natasha and her sister captive? Tell me.

A wry, repressed smile flitted across Leon's lips under the hood, a glimmer of mirth concealed in the shadows. "Don't worry," he answered quietly, his voice playful but lined with assurance, "everything will be shown in due time." Nova's green gaze narrowed, searching his features for any sign of dishonesty, peeling away at the cracks in his serene, self-assured facade. Though curiosity burned within her, she decided to believe him, for the moment. Natasha, on the other hand, could feel her heart pounding in her chest, a maelstrom of fear and excitement churning within. Her voice diminished to a whisper as she stopped at a thin hallway, gesturing upward. "Lord," she whispered, her voice shaking just a little, "upper floor… can you see the small window?"

Leon obeyed her instruction, his eyes rising to a distant tower that towered above the halls of the palace. One, narrow window reflected the faint glimmer of lights that were not of this world, a subtle shine against black stone. His gaze held on it, detecting the faint, near-invisible glint that spoke of the presence of his sister. The air grew thick with an unspoken tension, heavy with the promise of conflict, hope, and the unknown fear of what was to come.

Nova's voice trembled, fragile but with a dash of pragmatism. "All right… but how do we go up?" she asked, her words shaking just enough to betray the strain she was suppressing. Leon's grin did not waver, though, as if the impossible was merely another step on his agenda. "Don't worry," he murmured, his voice heavy with quiet reassurance. He raised his arms, and a green glow started to burst from them, curling like a living cloak and buzzing with pent-up power. The air around them responded, rippling with hidden energy as it enveloped them, floating them above the cobblestones with insistent gentleness, exact and deliberate.

Shadows clung to their bodies, stretching and twisting, hiding their movements as if the city itself had consented to permit them to pass. Step by cautious step, they climbed. They strode along streams of magic unseen to any common eye, winding upward with elegance, the soft glow of the city below cascading over them like liquid silver. Lanterns glowed on curved alleys where nocturnal traders haggled in whispers, pedestrians walked with tired strides, but none were aware of the three moving unseen above, unruffled by the din and turmoil of the sleeping city.

Each step was measured, each beat stilled, as if the world had condescended to move in sync with their passage. At last, they reached the little window, the soft thump of their arrival barely rattling the night. Leon got low, looking around the inside with wary inspection. Delicate magical wards glowed softly for a moment under his regard, writhing like agitated sparks before disappearing under his intentional contact. He looked at Nova and the other companion, his face inscrutable but tinged with that familiar quiet confidence.

"Ready?

" he breathed, his tone low but resolute, with both challenge and promise contained in one word.

Natasha's breath caught a little, her heart pounding in her ears as she looked into Nova's eyes. There was a flash of doubt in those green eyes, swiftly balanced by shaky trust, a quiet recognition that they were moving into something so much bigger than usual. Nova's hand ghosted across her side, a faint shiver that betrayed both fear and excitement.

Leon walked with measured calm, pushing the window open. The chill night air rushed in first, bearing the sweetest whisper of jasmine and the city's hushed hum far below. He stepped inside with easy habit, the softest whisper of leather and metal signaling his arrival. Natasha came behind him, her steps wary but set, and then Nova, hesitant, yet refusing to lag behind.

The room that welcomed them was breathtaking. Larger than they had anticipated, it sprawled in directions that caused the walls to appear nearly alive with art. Wondrous objects shone in every direction, their gentle light waltzing across tapestries worked with symbols and sigils that vibrated with hidden potential. Incense filled the air, its heat curling around them, blending with a metallic undercurrent that indicated the hidden power contained within the space.

Natasha's eyes expanded as they followed the line of the room. Every ornament, every carved pillar, whispered of someone who had labored lovingly to create not a room, but an experience—a statement of taste and power commingled. Nova's own breath caught, her tiny hand going up to graze the edge of a gleaming obsidian table, anchoring herself as if the room's weight would carry her off.

Each step they'd made, every deliberate movement down the corridors of the palace, had been building toward this moment. The waiting was a threadbare thing, stretched taut within them as the city of Vellore lay below them, lights sparkling like stars beneath the impassive storm that had slipped silently over rooftops. Night crowded in against the glass rim of the window, darkening the shadows and raising the tension that clung to their bodies. They had come. Each step, each measured movement, had been towards this moment. The air vibrated in the room, the expectation heavy as the night outside grew deeper and the city of Vellore beneath still hummed on, unaware of the silent tempest that had just stormed into the heart of the palace.