The Shocking Bloodshed

As the figure draped in black robes floated in through the window, his entire being was shrouded in a cloak with a deep hood that concealed his face completely. His hands were gloved in black leather, the left clutching a book with an ebony cover adorned with several sinister, red characters.

He scanned the room from his position at the window, his gaze settling on the desk not far away. Silent steps were taken across the crimson carpet towards the desk, littered with books and letters.

He paused before the desk, reaching out to pick up several letters and scrutinizing them. Suddenly, a faint rustling came from behind the desk, prompting the cloaked figure to drop the letters and step back, eyes sharpened with alertness toward the sound.

But the noise ceased as quickly as it had begun. The robed man glanced back at the firmly shut door of the study and carefully made his way around the desk. As he reached its other side, he deftly opened the black book in his left hand, while his right fingertip glowed with a dark red light.

However, there was nothing behind the desk. After a moment of intense observation, he closed the grimoire and retracted his hand.

Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed up the stairs, and the man glanced at the study's door before vanishing into a swirl of dark mist.

The door to the study swung open, and a mage stood at the threshold, bowing respectfully. "Diviner" Constant, the Grandmaster of the Mage Tower, entered, followed by two mages who closed the door gently behind them.

"What has transpired?" Constant walked towards the desk, his voice soft but laden with authority, "You mentioned grave news from the Emperor's City; what exactly has happened?"

Mid-sentence, the Grandmaster turned his head towards the open window, frowning slightly, "Why is the window open? It was closed when I left."

"I shall close it for you," one mage volunteered, stepping past Constant to shut the window.

"The matter is indeed grave, master," the other mage said. "The Chief Warlock of the Shadow Fortress, 'Bloodhand' Wystan, has escaped from the imperial prison!"

"What?" Constant uttered in shock, placing his aged hand on the mage's shoulder to steady himself, "Are you certain? Is the news reliable?"

"Yes, it's from the White Wizards Guild of the Emperor's City! It happened two days ago," the mage replied without hesitation.

"Dreadful news!" Constant's brows furrowed deeply, the unexpected escape of Wystan – a dark sorcerer from the Gloomy Hills who had been confined for a century in the impregnable God's Hawk Prison – was utterly unsettling.

"I must inform Captain Andros immediately! They left the Emperor's City earlier, they may not yet be aware," Constant said, turning towards the door.

As he did so, the mage who had offered to close the window suddenly drew a gleaming dagger and plunged it into Constant's abdomen.

"You…" The Grandmaster looked at the mage in disbelief, his words cutting short as the other mage struck his back with another knife.

"Lord Wystan sends his regards. Your era is over, and the Twilight Age begins," the betraying mage sneered.

"Despicable!" With a furious glare, Constant unleashed a powerful burst of energy, sending both assailants, and their blades, crashing against the study's walls, falling motionless to the floor.

"Cursed be!" Constant clutched at his wounds, staggering towards the door through the searing pain. Suddenly, a black mist coalesced, and the figure with the black book reappeared.

"Long time no see, 'Diviner' Constant," the robed man said with a raspy, chilling laugh.

"Wystan..." Constant gasped, recognizing the dark silhouette. Wystan nodded slightly, "Did you think we would never meet again? Fate has drawn us back together, just like many years ago."

Wystan approached the Grandmaster with measured steps. Constant instinctively stepped back, hearing Wystan remark, "It seems time has not been kind to you. A century has passed, and I remain unchanged while you have withered."

"Is it you who schemes to steal the sacred vessel containing the Ghost King's soul?" Constant's voice was grave as he sought a strategy.

"I have some involvement, yes, but I am just fulfilling an assignment. My master has employed me to remove any obstacles in his path," Wystan replied calmly, his right hand glowing as he pointed at Constant, "Like you, for instance."

"Who would make a lord of the Gloomy Hills, a king of the Shadow Fortress, into his assassin and pawn?" Constant queried, astonished by Wystan's allegiance which seemed impossible to buy with any amount of gold.

"That does not concern you anymore. I would not be foolish enough to divulge my patron's identity," Wystan smirked, shaking his head, "Let us conclude this century-long feud. After all, what follows no longer matters to you."

As he finished, a flash of red light from Wystan's fingertip manifested a blood-red pentagram beneath Constant's feet. Five circular voids opened at its vertices, drawing in the blood seeping from Constant's wounds.

"Will you await death passively as your blood drains, or will you battle me face to face?" Wystan asked, his voice oozing malice.

Trapped within Wystan's deadly "Bloodhand Formation," Constant lowered his head and closed his eyes. His blood continued to be siphoned into the voids, draining the color from his lips and skin, causing his muscles to wither. The aged man finally collapsed to the floor with a thud.

"It seems you've made your choice," Wystan chuckled with pride, turning towards the door without a backward glance.

But as he reached for the handle, Constant suddenly raised his head, eyes blazing with an incandescent fury. A tremendous roar was accompanied by two beams of light, as thick as arms, bursting from his eyes. They pierced through Wystan and shattered the study's door, collapsing the corridor walls in a resounding crash.

When the light faded, Constant lay fallen, his final gaze upon Wystan's body on the ground. Yet suddenly, a black boot stepped into view, and hands gloved in black leather lifted Constant's head, revealing the robed figure once more.

"I'm sorry, but your 'Diviner's Sight' can destroy all but cannot discern truth from illusion. The world is thus – a single mirage can deceive all eyes," Wystan spoke.

With those words, he dropped the lifeless Constant, strolled over to the study's window, and leaped out, spreading his arms to glide into the snowy expanse beneath the night sky.

Moments later, icy blue eyes emerged from behind the heavy curtains beside the window. Grayson's face appeared within the study, stepping out from the folds, his gaze landing first on the two dead mages before finding Constant, lifeless and pale.

Before he could process his next move, the corridor outside erupted with chaotic shouts and footsteps.