Chapter 16: Raven's Gambit
The fires of the Hollow Arena still smoldered when Raven Luther descended from the north tower, cloak whispering like a shadow. Her boots barely made a sound on the stone as she passed under the moonlit arches of Luther Keep, heading toward the Hall of Forgotten Names—the burial sanctum of the Luther dead.
Few ever walked here. Fewer still left offerings.
But Raven wasn't here to grieve.
She knelt before a cracked tomb, the name etched into its surface long worn away by time and weather.
A whisper rose from her lips.
"I will take what they denied you. The blood, the throne, the name."
She placed a single black lily atop the grave. The petals shimmered faintly—enchanted with an aura suppressant.
She was preparing.
Preparing for something neither Jean nor Adam had seen coming.
---
Back in the keep, Jean stood atop the highest battlement, her hands gripping the cold stone as she stared out at the vast snowfield stretching into the horizon.
Whitney sat beside her, silent.
"Adam's return wasn't about succession," Jean murmured. "He's preparing for a war. But he didn't come back alone. I could feel it. Something was… watching."
Freya joined her, offering a scroll with a wax seal in the shape of a dragon's eye.
"This came while you were recovering," she said. "It's from the Argon Sovereignty."
Jean unsealed it and read quickly.
Her eyes narrowed.
"They want to meet."
Ryan stepped beside them. "The Argon Sovereignty doesn't move without divine reason. If they're reaching out, the gods are whispering again."
Jean looked back toward the inner keep.
"Then we'll listen. But first—Raven."
---
Raven's quarters were quiet when Jean entered, but the scent of cold steel hung in the air. A map had been pinned to the wall—one Jean recognized immediately.
The Vault of Blood, the oldest sealed chamber beneath Luther Keep. It was said to contain the clan's forbidden techniques… and the secrets of the first Patriarch, Martin Luther.
And Raven had circled it.
Jean turned as Raven emerged from the side chamber, dressed in obsidian armor etched with old runes.
"I was wondering when you'd come," Raven said, drawing a long, thin blade from her hip. "I'd hoped to face Adam first. But I suppose this is more poetic."
"You're planning to break into the Vault," Jean said flatly. "That's treason."
Raven smiled. "Then lock me away—if you can."
---
Their blades clashed in the training yard under starlight.
Jean's aura shone gold. Raven's shimmered with flickering obsidian, hard to read, hard to pin.
They moved like dancers—fast, fluid, deadly.
Raven struck high, Jean parried. Jean spun low, Raven leapt back. Their divine guardians—Whitney and a dark-feathered hawk named Velin—circled above, waiting.
Then Raven feinted.
Jean stepped in to counter.
And that's when Raven dropped a talisman, shattering it against the ground.
Boom.
Dark aura exploded in every direction, and when the smoke cleared, Raven was gone.
She had vanished.
And the door to the Vault of Blood had been left slightly open.
---
Charles Luther watched from the upper tower, arms folded.
"She makes her move now," he said.
The elder beside him frowned. "Should we stop her?"
Charles smiled faintly.
"No. Let her enter the lion's den. If she survives… she may yet become more than a shadow."
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