Chapter 32 : A Predator Among Prey

The candle’s flame flickered on my desk, its light casting jagged shadows across the stolen documents spread before me. The coded entries had yielded their secrets under my scrutiny, each line a thread in Thalos’s web of corruption. My fingers traced the final page, where a single entry stood out—a gathering, set for tonight, at the hidden base in the valley. Not just any gathering, but an auction, where lives were sold like trinkets to the highest bidder. The coordinates matched, the timing was now, and the guest list included masked nobles cloaked in anonymity.


A dark, unhinged smile curled my lips. “An auction,” I murmured, my voice a low purr, thick with anticipation. “How fitting for a pig like Thalos.” The thrill of the hunt surged through me, sharper than any blade. I’d infiltrate their sordid affair, not as the shadow who’d haunted their base, but as one of them—a masked VIP, cloaked in deception, ready to unravel their world from within.


I rose, moving to the wardrobe where my disguise waited—a tailored cloak of deep indigo, embroidered with silver thread, and a new mask, ornate and gilded, fit for a noble with questionable morals. The leather mask I’d worn last night was tucked away; tonight called for subtlety, not slaughter. I donned the new mask, its weight unfamiliar but perfect for the role I’d play. My reflection in the darkened window was a stranger’s, a predator disguised as prey.


Slipping out the window, I melted into the night, the forest path to the valley now familiar. The base awaited, its stone entrance a gateway to Thalos’s filth. I’d walk among the vipers, my smile a weapon, my presence a promise of ruin.
The game was escalating, and I’d play it to the end.


The valley was cloaked in mist, the torchlit stone entrance looming like a wound in the earth. Guards stood at attention, their eyes sharper than the night before, likely spooked by my earlier intrusion.


But I wasn’t the shadow tonight—I was a guest, my indigo cloak and gilded mask marking me as one of their own. I approached with confidence, my posture relaxed, my stride deliberate. The guards barely glanced at me, waving me through with a curt nod, their focus on the darkness beyond.


Inside, the cavernous chamber had transformed. The crates and carts I’d seen last night were pushed to the walls, replaced by rows of velvet-draped chairs facing a grand podium.


The air was thick with the scent of perfume and greed, the low hum of conversation filling the space. Masked nobles milled about, their attire a riot of silks and jewels, their laughter sharp and hollow. The metallic scent of despair lingered beneath it all, a reminder of the lives at stake.


I moved through the dimly lit hall, careful to keep my presence unnoticed, my senses attuned to every detail. At the far end, a grim scene unfolded—small children huddled in cages, their faces pale and eyes hollow with fear. Chains clinked as some shifted uncomfortably, their whimpers barely audible over the nobles’ chatter. The sight sent a cold fury through me, but I buried it, my expression schooled into indifference. Rage was a blade to be wielded later; now, I needed information.


My sharp eyes caught a side door at the hall’s end, partially concealed by a tapestry. Slipping through the shadows, I pushed it open and entered a smaller, lavishly decorated room. The contrast was stark—plush carpets, gilded candelabras, and a long table strewn with documents and golden coins. A group of masked nobles gathered here, their laughter echoing through the space, grating against my nerves. A grand podium stood at the center, its polished wood gleaming under the candlelight.


An auction, I concluded grimly. Selling lives like commodities. The documents on the table likely detailed the “merchandise”—names, ages, prices—each one a soul reduced to ink and coin. My expression darkened beneath the mask, but I quickly schooled it into indifference. Now wasn’t the time to act recklessly. I needed to know who was here, who pulled the strings, and how deep this filth ran.


Straightening my posture, I adjusted my mask and stepped out of hiding, mingling with the other masked guests. My demeanor was calm, composed—the perfect image of a noble with questionable morals, here to indulge in Thalos’s depravity. I moved with purpose, my indigo cloak trailing behind me, drawing curious glances but no suspicion. To them, I was just another vulture, come to feast on misery.


A voice beside me broke the air, smooth and tinged with amusement. “Ah, a new face?”


I turned to see a man with a golden, intricately designed mask, its patterns swirling like a serpent’s coils. “First time at this kind of event?” he asked, his tone light but probing, as if testing my resolve.


I gave a faint smile, my voice low and measured, laced with just enough arrogance to fit the role. “Something like that. Thought I’d see what all the fuss is about.”


Another voice, lower and more playful, drew my attention. “I like your mask,” a man in a golden robe said, his tone teasing. His mask was ornate, its intricate patterns signaling high status, perhaps a merchant or minor lord. “It’s bold, like you don’t care who’s watching.”


My lips curled faintly beneath my mask, the gesture calculated. “Thanks. Yours isn’t bad either.”


The man chuckled, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Not many come here with such confidence. How many slaves are you planning to purchase today?”


My smile twisted into something darker, though I kept my tone light, almost mocking. “All of them.”


There was a brief pause, the air between us tightening. The man laughed, but there was a hint of unease in his tone, his eyes narrowing behind his mask. “Bold claim. You must be quite rich.”


I tilted my head, my voice smooth as silk, edged with menace. “You could say that.”


Another man nearby leaned in, intrigued, his voice a hushed whisper to his companion. “Do you know who he is? Short in height, but the way he talks—like he owns this place.”


The golden-robed man smirked, his gaze flicking over me. “Seems we have a king in disguise.”


I didn’t respond, letting their words hang, my silence a weapon that unnerved them. Their curiosity was a thread I’d tug later, but for now, I needed to blend, to listen, to learn. Before I could press further, a voice echoed through the hall, deep and commanding, amplified by the chamber’s acoustics. “Attention, esteemed guests! The auction is about to begin. VIPs, please proceed to your seats.”


The nobles began moving toward the front, excitement buzzing in the air like flies over a corpse. I stayed back, my eyes glinting with cold amusement beneath my mask. They were eager, ravenous, their greed a palpable thing. They’d soon regret their indulgence, but not yet. I needed to know more—who ran this auction, who funded it, and whether Thalos or Faelmont were here, pulling strings from the shadows.


Slipping away from the crowd, I made my way back to the hall where the slaves were kept. The faint sobs and whimpers grew louder as I approached, each sound a dagger in my chest, fueling the dark fire within. The guards at the hall’s entrance were distracted, their attention on the nobles filing into the auction room. I moved past them, a shadow among shadows, my steps slow and deliberate.


The caged children stared at me, their eyes wide with fear, mistaking me for another buyer. I crouched before one cage, my voice a low whisper, barely audible. “Not tonight,”


I murmured, more to myself than to them. “You’ll be free before dawn.” The promise was a blade I’d wield, sharp and unforgiving.


A twisted smile formed on my lips, hidden beneath the gilded mask. The nobles thought they were predators, but they were prey, fattened for slaughter. Thalos’s empire was a house of cards, and I’d topple it with a single breath. My fingers brushed the dagger hidden beneath my cloak, its weight a comfort, a reminder of the chaos to come.


I rose, my gaze sweeping the hall one last time, memorizing the guards’ positions, the exits, the weaknesses in their defenses. The auction room’s chatter grew louder, the nobles’ laughter a grating symphony. Let them revel in their filth for now. I’d return to the auction, play their game, and when the moment was right, I’d strike.


The game was mine, and it began now.


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[The Auction Room]


I reentered the auction room, blending seamlessly with the masked nobles as they settled into their seats. The podium gleamed under the torchlight, a grotesque altar to their greed. A man in a black robe stood behind it, his mask a stark white oval, featureless save for two dark slits for eyes. He was the auctioneer, his voice smooth and practiced, dripping with false charm as he welcomed the guests.“


Lords and ladies, esteemed patrons,” he began, his arms spreading wide. “Tonight, we offer the finest selection yet—youthful, obedient, and ready to serve. Let the bidding commence!”


The crowd murmured with excitement, their masks glinting as they leaned forward, coins clinking in their hands. I took a seat near the back, my posture relaxed but my senses razor-sharp. The documents I’d stolen hinted at key players—aliases like “The Broker” and “The Patron”—but I needed faces, names, connections. The auctioneer was a start, but I suspected higher powers lurked nearby, perhaps even Faelmont himself.


The first “lot” was announced—a young girl, no older than ten, her name reduced to a number. She was led onto the podium, her wrists bound, her eyes downcast. The nobles’ bids came fast, their voices eager, their laughter cruel. My fingers tightened around the armrest, but I kept my expression neutral, my mask a shield. Each bid was a debt I’d collect in blood.


I leaned toward the golden-robed man, who’d taken a seat nearby, his earlier unease replaced by anticipation. “Who’s the auctioneer?” I asked, my voice casual, as if making idle conversation.


He glanced at me, his mask tilting slightly. “No one knows his name. Calls himself the Broker. Runs these events for the big players.” He lowered his voice, a conspiratorial grin in his tone. “Word is, he answers to someone higher—someone with real power.”


My smile was faint, predatory. “Interesting. And who might that be?”


He shrugged, but his eyes flickered with caution. “No one says it out loud. You don’t get to that level by being careless.”


I nodded, filing the information away. The Broker was a pawn, but his master was the prize. I’d watch, listen, and when the time came, I’d carve my way to the top.


The auction continued, each child a fresh wound, each bid a spark to the fire in my chest. I played my part, raising my hand occasionally to bid, my offers high enough to draw attention but not enough to win. The nobles whispered about me, their curiosity a thread I’d pull until it unraveled them. The golden-robed man watched me closely, his earlier amusement now tinged with suspicion.


“You’re not here just to buy, are you?” he said, his voice low, almost accusing.


I tilted my head, my smile sharp beneath the mask. “What makes you say that?”


He leaned closer, his voice a whisper. “You’re too calm. Too… deliberate. Men like you don’t come to places like this for sport.”


I chuckled softly, the sound low and chilling. “Maybe I’m just here for the entertainment.”


His eyes narrowed, but before he could press further, the auctioneer’s voice rang out, announcing the next lot. I leaned back, my gaze sweeping the room, cataloging every face, every gesture. The Broker was a link, but I needed more—Faelmont, Thalos, or the mysterious “Patron.” They were here, or they were close, and I’d find them.


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As the auction progressed, I slipped away again, moving to a shadowed corner where I could observe without being noticed. The guards at the hall’s entrances were lax, their attention on the podium, assuming the nobles were too engrossed to cause trouble. I used their negligence, slipping back to the side room where the documents lay.


The table was still strewn with papers, and I rifled through them quickly, my gloved hands silent. Most were invoices, but one caught my eye—a letter, sealed with a crest I didn’t recognize, addressed to “The Patron.” The contents were vague, mentioning “the enterprise” and “securing the north,” but it was signed with a flourish that screamed power. I tucked it into my cloak, a piece of the puzzle I’d unravel later.


Returning to the auction room, I took my seat just as the final lot was announced. The nobles’ excitement peaked, their bids frantic, their greed a palpable stench. I watched, my mind racing, plotting. The children would be freed—I’d sworn it—but I needed to dismantle the operation, not just disrupt it. The Broker, the Patron, Thalos, Faelmont—they were all threads in a web I’d burn to ash.


The auctioneer’s voice rose, declaring the night a success, and the nobles applauded, their masks glinting like vipers’ scales. I stood, my cloak sweeping behind me, and made my way to the exit, my movements calm but purposeful. The golden-robed man called after me, his voice tinged with curiosity. “Leaving so soon, king?”


I glanced back, my smile hidden but my voice dripping with menace. “The night’s young. I’m just getting started.”


Outside, the mist had thickened, cloaking the valley in secrecy. I slipped into the forest, my gilded mask still in place, my mind alight with plans. The children’s faces haunted me, their fear a debt I’d repay with blood. Thalos’s empire was crumbling, and I was the storm that would finish it.




To be continued...