Published via Ecency

This is not the first chapter.
It is a fragment torn from the heart of conflict.

It belongs to The Council of Two Worlds, a saga of introspective fantasy where power pulses from within, and darkness comes from memory.

Night had fallen with an oppressive weight over the camp. The torch flames flickered weakly, as if even the fire could feel the rising darkness thickening the air. Beyond the tents, silence was dense—like the earth itself was waiting for something terrible.

The captain approached with a steady step, though cold sweat beaded his forehead. His armor was stained with dust and dried blood—not from enemies, but from things that had no name.

“My lady, if I may,” he said with a restrained tone, though a crack in his voice betrayed the fear climbing up his ribs.

Thalia turned to him slowly, her gaze as sharp as the edge of a dagger. Her eyes—once human—now held an unstable gleam, a light that seemed to reflect dead stars.

The captain swallowed hard but held his composure.

“We’ve witnessed what’s happening… and though the men are exhausted, we remain under your command,” he added, hoping that statement still meant something to her.

For a moment, Thalia’s expression seemed human. A slight nod was all she gave.

“Very well. Let them rest. We march at dawn.”

The captain did not move.

“My lady…” he continued cautiously. “We’re concerned. This… this is no longer a military expedition. What we’ve seen—magic, shadows, things beyond logic—none of it was in our vows. We weren’t trained for this.”

Silence fell like a slab of stone.

Thalia straightened slowly. Darkness seemed to trail behind her silhouette. In a blink, her sword hissed through the air and pressed cold against the captain’s throat. So fast, the nearby guards didn’t even see the motion.

“Are you questioning my authority?” she whispered, her voice low and vibrating like poison through the bones.

The captain dropped to his knees at once, lowering his head in submission.

“I would never, my lady. I’m merely… trying to express that the men…”

“Silence!” she roared, pressing the blade just enough for a bead of blood to roll. “Let this be the last time you ‘express your concern.’ Remember your place—or I could accuse you of treason. And you know what that means.”

The threat hung in the air, sharper than the sword.

“Is that clear?”

“Yes, my lady. It won’t happen again,” he answered tensely, still kneeling.

Thalia withdrew the blade with a swift movement and returned to her stance.

“You may go.”

The captain rose slowly without raising his eyes. He walked toward his tent with his back straight—but his soul hunched under the weight of what had just happened.

As he crossed the canvas flap, the sergeant followed, his steps quick over the gravel.

“Captain…”

“Not now, sergeant,” he answered in a harsh whisper, as if fearing even the walls could hear him. “We have more urgent matters to deal with.”

“Sir… what happened? What was that?”

The captain turned to him slowly. For the first time, his face looked like that of a man broken inside.

“We’re following a specter, not a commander. That woman… she is no longer Thalia. And this mission… this mission makes no sense anymore. I fear for every man who still trusts her. We’ve seen things no soldier should ever witness. And I don’t know how much longer we can hold on.”

The sergeant remained silent, absorbing the fear in his superior’s words.

“The Emperor must know what’s happening here,” the captain continued, his tone more resolute. “At dawn, you’ll ride to the capital. Deliver this message by hand. Don’t stop for anything. If you fail… all will be lost.”