At the port
Viktor turned his attention back to me, a gesture that signaled our return to the matter that had brought us together. "Lyra here, despite her penchant for theatrics, is a genius mage. She may be impulsive, but her abilities are unparalleled."
I regarded Lyra with newfound respect, my initial irritation giving way to curiosity. "A genius mage? Impressive."
Lyra's grin widened, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and pride. "Flattery will get you everywhere, my friend. But let's focus on the matter at hand, shall we?"
Lyra leaned forward, her interest evident. "Go on. I'm listening."
"Do you think she should?" I questioned Viktor.
"I mean, I own this tavern, James. What happens in Silver Serpent stays in Silver Serpent." He smirked.
Viktor gestured for her to sit, a subtle nod of agreement that seemed to acknowledge her role as a valuable member of this collaboration.
I took a deep breath, grateful for the opportunity to finally lay out the full extent of the situation, uninterrupted. "As I mentioned earlier, Gelidra and her cohorts are the primary threats we're facing. But there's more to this puzzle—a larger game at play."
Viktor's fingers drummed thoughtfully against the bar, a silent indication of his mental calculations. "It appears we've stumbled upon something far more complex than a simple abduction."
Lyra's gaze was fixed on me, her analytical mind at work. "And this Gelidra... her abilities hint at connections that extend beyond the ordinary."
I nodded, relieved to find both Viktor and Lyra fully engaged, their insights adding depth to my understanding of the situation.
Viktor exhaled slowly, the smoke from his cigar curling upward like a phantom dance. "Our path is clear. We must uncover the threads that tie Gelidra to this larger tapestry and, in doing so, rescue your precious... person."
Lyra's lips curled into a determined smile. "We'll need to tread carefully and navigate this web of intrigue without alerting the spiders to our presence."
Lyra seemed to have something bothering her mind, and she came over to me and pulled my ear.
"Who is this 'Person'?
I let out a nervous chuckle. "Well..."
My thoughts drifted back to Isabelle. Is she alive? Did she eat on time? She gets hungry really easily, so that would be paramount for her.
"Where are you, Isabelle?" I unintentionally murmured under my breath.
"Hmm?" Lyra's brow furrowed in confusion, her gaze fixed on me.
"No no, it's nothing, don't mind me, I'm just lost in my thoughts."
---
A cold wind blew across Isabelle's face, which was disheveled and fatigued. She pulled the shawl that she was wearing closer to her body, quivering because of the cold.
"Beat it, slowpoke." A cold voice commanded her from behind. She complied, moving at a slightly faster pace, as the figure clad in Indigo robes and white hair was trudging behind her.
They were walking on the side of a traversing road, owing to their carriage breaking down. They were on their way to the port of
Another gale of wind hit the streets this time, causing Isabelle to Shrivel further, and stop.
Gelidra was losing her patience at Isabelle for not complying. "Why do you keep stopping? Can't you even walk properly without having to stop like an old lady?"
Isabelle turned back and shot a look of disgust at her. "Move it, or else," Gelidra's pale white hand suddenly turned into a sharp sickle of ice.
A well-built man clad stepped in between them, with intense eyes that put Gelidra in her place.
"That's enough, Gel." A stern male voice reprimanded her.
"O-okay, commander." Gelidra replied meekly. This man had absolute command over Gelidra.
He donned an ash-grey shirt and a black overcoat that had intertwined silver embroidery that shifted with the ambient light, almost creating an optical illusion.
Completing the ensemble, a pair of fitted charcoal trousers hugged his legs, tailored for both comfort and mobility. The trousers bore faint lines of silver stitching along the seams, an exquisite detail that echoed the enigmatic designs of his coat.
Around his waist, a supple black leather belt held the outfit together, its buckle an intricately crafted emblem that bore the sigil of his lineage—a symbol of power passed down through generations and a testament to the legacy he was destined to uphold.
His boots, sturdy and well-worn, were a testament to the countless journeys and battles he had faced; each scuff marked a story etched into the leather. The soles of his boots, embossed with arcane symbols, hinted at the otherworldly forces he had harnessed to forge his path.
That man was General Abaddi. For a man in his mid-forties who looks like someone who's past their prime, he is still very much a force to be reckoned with.
"Are you okay?" The general turned around and asked Isabelle.
"Y-yeah, I just n-n-need a little bit of r-rest." She said, her teeth chattering.
The man, without saying another word, took off his overcoat and draped it on her. It was still warm from his heat, and Isabelle instantly coddled herself into this overcoat, that provided her with much-needed insulation from the cold
Isabelle looked at the man as if thanking him, but getting reminded of how she got here in the first place, she instantly pulled back.
The man had a small smirk on his face, and he pat himself on his back.
Isabelle was left wondering, if this man cared this much about her, why did he abduct her in the first place?
Abaddi had not said a single word up until this point , from the day she was kidnapped.
Isabelle's heart raced as memories of that fateful night flooded her mind. The darkness seemed to swallow her as the shadowy figure drew closer. She could feel her body tense, her breath catching in her throat. The memory was a vivid and haunting one, etched into her mind like a nightmare.
The man's presence now, offering warmth and protection, was a stark contrast to the fear and confusion she had experienced during her abduction. She couldn't help but feel conflicted, torn between gratitude for his gesture and the lingering questions about his motives.
"What do you actually want?" Isabelle asked the man as he was moving ahead.
"Oh, that." Abaddi reached inside his jacket, and pulled one of the tarot cards out and flipped it around for Isabelle to see.
"The Seven of Swords?" Isabelle was confused to its meaning, but she knew that this sword represented deception, trickery, and betrayal. It can indicate someone trying to gain an advantage through dishonest means or attempting to manipulate a situation to their benefit too.
Abaddi let out a chuckle. "You will see for yourself in time."