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Chapter 63: The White Raven Takes Flight
Chapter 63: The White Raven Takes Flight
The night stretched on, a blanket of darkness woven with silver threads of moonlight. High above the lands of Shambell, a lone white raven soared, her wings gliding effortlessly through the cold, crisp air. Each feather shimmered faintly in the moon’s glow, a ghostly figure against the vast expanse of the sky. Seraphis, concealed within this form, observed everything below with keen, calculating eyes. The kingdom sprawled beneath her, its mighty fortress walls standing tall against the rolling hills. From this height, it looked peaceful—deceptively so. But she knew the truth. War was not coming. It had already begun in secret.
She shifted her flight path, angling toward the towering castle at the heart of the city. It was a beast of stone and iron, its many spires stretching toward the heavens like claws, its walls thick with soldiers patrolling under torchlight. The defenses had been reinforced recently; she could see new ballistae positioned along the ramparts and additional guards stationed at key points. Shambell was preparing for something big. She had no doubts about what that was.
Her sharp eyes scanned the tallest tower, where a single window glowed faintly with flickering candlelight. That was where she needed to be—the war council’s chamber. With a final push of her wings, she shot forward, a silent ghost on the wind, and perched on the balcony’s stone railing. The cold seeped into her talons as she adjusted her stance, ensuring that not even the smallest shift of her weight would create noise. She listened, her heartbeat steady, her mind razor-sharp.
Inside, a heavy wooden table dominated the room, its surface covered in maps, letters, and strategic plans. Surrounding it were men of power—generals clad in polished armor, noble lords draped in velvet, and shadowed figures who did not belong in the light. Their voices were low, their words spoken with careful deliberation, but she could hear them perfectly.
At the head of the table sat King Aldric of Shambell. His imposing figure radiated authority, his golden armor reflecting the dim candlelight. He was not a man of idle threats or hesitation. His reputation preceded him—a ruler who conquered through cunning as much as force. He tapped his gauntleted fingers against the table, his voice cutting through the murmurs like a blade.
“We strike in three weeks.” His words were final, leaving no room for discussion. “Valleria is vulnerable. Their Queen is inexperienced, and their allies are hesitant. By the time they realize their mistake, it will be far too late.”
A noble to his left scoffed. “And what if she resists? If she calls for aid?”
Aldric’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. “She won’t get the chance.” He turned his gaze to a hooded figure seated in the shadows. “Tell them.”
Seraphis focused intently on the cloaked figure. The moment they leaned forward, she recognized the emblem on their shoulder—a silver insignia shaped like a dagger entwined with a serpent. The Assassin’s Guild. Her muscles tensed, but she remained perfectly still. This was worse than she thought.
The hooded assassin spoke, their voice a low whisper, yet it carried through the room with chilling certainty. “We have agents inside Valleria. The moment war begins, key figures will fall—advisors, generals, commanders. By the time the Queen realizes what is happening, she will be alone.”
Aldric leaned back in his chair, clearly satisfied. “And once she is exposed?”
The assassin’s hood shifted slightly, though Seraphis could not see their face. “She will be eliminated.”
Silence filled the chamber, heavy with the weight of impending death. Seraphis’s mind raced. This was not just a war—it was a slaughter being meticulously planned. They intended to cut the head off the kingdom before battle even began, ensuring victory before the first blade was drawn. Cold, ruthless, and terrifyingly effective.
She exhaled slowly, steadying herself. She had to move carefully. If she struck now, she could take down one or two key figures, but she would not be able to stop the full plan. No, this required patience. Precision. They thought they were the ones in control, but they had made a fatal mistake.
The White Raven had been watching. And now, it was her turn to strike.