Chapter 11, part 2: The Sleeping Eye

***

Night fell on Sumerenn as quickly as day had turned to evening. Evelina had locked herself in her chambers and did not even let the maids in. She came out only once, and I was forced to escort her to the lavatory. Her appearance was pitiable. It seemed that the “Ice Snake” meant too much to her, or that she had relied on her too much, and her belonging to the ancient house of Greyhant created problems I did not yet know about.

A dark, warm, and oppressive darkness colored the stone corridors of the palace, which were now illuminated by the dim, as if tired, light of magical spheres. Everything in Sumerenn seemed to be covered in a web of memories and another web that sounded like the crunch of bones under a layer of silk. The overly intrusive signs could not remain in silence forever, and the right moment came.

Although I suppressed the body’s need for sleep, there were other processes that were impossible to ignore. With a quick step, I went to the lavatory. Having done my not-so-noble business, I went back into the corridor and decided to see what was in its other part, located at a right angle from where I had been all this time.

Curiosity is a good means of gathering data. Walking to the window, from which the red moonlight fell wistfully, I was about to leave, having found nothing interesting, when the door opened as if from a gust of wind. And I saw her—Vespera, standing in the semi-darkness, illuminated only by the moonlight. Her black hair shone, and her red eyes burned like hot coals—a clear sign of the use of magic. She looked in the mirror and, only when I held my gaze on her, did she sharply turn her head toward me. We followed each other’s movements, just standing and saying nothing. The silence lasted for a few more seconds before she beckoned me with a lazy gesture. It read silently: “We will talk anyway. Better—now.”

Chaotic-Darkness had always been clever, even too clever. Perhaps only she could detect even my most subtle presence because of the absolute darkness within us both. However, the level of her power was significantly different from mine. She was still hiding, not wanting to attract the attention of OL, but how much power did she have? 3%? 5%? It was impossible to assess for sure.

She tilted her head slightly to the side, and in my mind, her true voice sounded—like a suffering choir of people of different ages and genders.

—Come closer, do not be shy.

I approached, and she just smiled, understanding that her true voice had once again made no impression on me.

—Order-Darkness…—she mentally pronounced in a sliding, almost wailing voice.—It is a pleasure to see you in person again. Although, to be honest… I like you more when you use male avatars.—She looked me over with a slight mockery, as if she wanted to evoke emotions in me that were not there.

—Chaotic-Darkness, you have not changed. Time passes, and you are still dependent on your games. What do you want?—I transmitted a cold thought to her.

She went to the window. A light fog behind the glass was illuminated by the street lamps of the palace square. The world in the reflection seemed slightly distorted—like everything she touched.

—I just hope you are not going to break my work,—she transmitted with an almost affectionate intonation of a female voice, trying to drown out the wails of the others.—I have been building this for five years. Five years full of painstaking work and court intrigues in the very heart of the Valtheim family. Life, death, order, self, everything has already mixed here, and if you destroy it, I will become bored, and when I am bored, everything takes on an unexpected finale. First of all, for you.

—How primitive. You want to frighten me?—I sent her a thought as cold as law.—Do not think you will succeed. However, if you are reasonable, we can return to our standard formula: you do not interfere with me—I do not interfere with you.

She sneered contemptuously, though for her it was probably the most sincere emotion.

—Still the same architect… Cold, precise, without passion. But you are mistaken if you think I have not noticed—you are weak in this shell. Overly so. And if you think you can play on all fronts, you are deluded.

—It does not matter. The true essence does not depend on brute force, but only on its precise direction.—I sent her another thought and turned to leave.

—Do not delude yourself,—she threw after me, like a snake releasing venom in a final bite.—I will not give you Evelina. She is one of the key toys, and if you interfere with me, you will greatly regret it.

I did not turn to her and just went to Evelina’s chambers. We both understood perfectly well that such promises were not a threat, but a harbinger of war.

***

I opened the door and slowly entered the room. Evelina sat in a chair by the wall, still not asleep, just watching the magical lamp burn. No sleep, no movement, nothing remained of her usual image, which had been there this morning.

The magical lamp under the ceiling shone faintly—a warm, almost living light, barely touching the walls. And although the light from many lamps spread in snow-white rays, illuminating every corner of her chambers, it could not drive away the main darkness in her soul, which had settled there.

Evelina’s hair was loose, and instead of a dress, she wore a thin silk robe, but even in it, one could understand that she was not a simple person, but a princess.

She turned her head toward me, her movements too slow and too smooth.

“You left,” she said, looking at my outline.

“Yes, to the lavatory,” I replied.

“Too long,” she answered with undisguised reproach.

“Perhaps, but I had no motive to leave just like that.” I deliberately paused. “Even the guards stand duty in pairs and shifts, and I have been standing at the door for more than ten hours,” I replied, hoping she would understand my position.

“Arta, do you not understand that I cannot trust a single person in this castle? The servants, the guards, even the courtiers—all have ears, all have interests,” she answered tiredly and turned away from me.

“Is it because of Vespera?” I asked politely.

Evelina nodded.

“Did it bother you so much that she knows that the Ice Snake is a Greyhant?”

“Arta, if you say her surname in the presence of anyone else, I may decide that you have betrayed me,” she threatened me coldly.

“Alright, in that case, I will not ask anymore,” I answered in a calm voice.

Evelina relaxed slightly in the chair. “Let’s go to sleep now. Just close all the windows and doors, and we will sleep. I am tired, and perhaps sleep will help me come to my senses.”

I did not answer, just nodded silently. Evelina was clearly not in the mood, and all I could do was follow her whims.

When everything was done, she stood up from the chair, clapped her hands three times, and the light went out. Already in the semi-darkness, she lay down in her bed and covered herself with a blanket.

I stood for a little longer before going into the wardrobe in the semi-darkness and changing into a nightgown there. I understood perfectly well what Evelina was worried about, but she did not understand simple things. Vespera was not a player of her level, and I was too weak in this form to oppose CD. Everything could end too quickly, and then no one would even remember that there was some Princess Evelina in Valtheim.

***

The night passed to the even breathing of Evelina. I lay down on my couch and, before falling asleep, looked for a long time at the quiet and calm room, the calmness of which sharply contrasted with the calmness of its owner.

The morning was unusually cool, even in the Palace of the Two-Faced, where the fireplaces and blast furnaces had been stoked since morning. Nevertheless, the sun remained a polite guest here, despite the warm autumn weather.

I deftly got up from the couch and went to change, and fifteen minutes later, I was in the mantle of the mage-guardian. Putting on the breastplate with only two hands still took more time than I would have liked, and even I gratefully remembered Evelina’s maid from the academy.

Deciding to breathe the cold morning air while the princess was still asleep, I went out onto the balcony. The air around was too saturated with the events of long-gone days, and only a cool wind blew in my face, messing up my hair.

Morning Sumerenn was as if in the palm of my hand, and the city presented itself as a large anthill, in which hundreds of thousands of ants were toiling. I leaned on the stone railings and just watched as the small silhouettes furrowed the well-trodden paths from point A to point B, forgetting about the true reason for their wanderings. The city lived its own life, and this life did not always coincide with the trajectories of its inhabitants’ movements.

About an hour more passed before the balcony door creaked, and on the balcony appeared Evelina in a light woolen cape and a mantle the color of black wine and silver. Her honey-colored eyes looked tired, and her hair was independently gathered into an elegant bun, which gave her additional seriousness.

“You did not sleep, Artalis?” she asked, standing next to me.

“I slept, just decided to breathe the morning air,” I answered calmly, looking at the city’s fortress walls, with their high square towers of dark stone.

“And how do you like the city?…” Evelina clarified with a slight sigh.

I looked into her eyes before answering. “A good city, but there is something ancient and primal about it.”

“Ah, you mean that…” Evelina imperceptibly bit her lower lip. “There is nothing strange about that. It is connected to the Gods of Dreams.” Her face paled noticeably. “You know the story of the twin queens, but you do not know what was here under Greyvan.” She swallowed.

“And what was under Greyvan?” I asked, trying to look slightly interested.

“You see… Before, in Illumora, there was another pantheon of gods that opposed the actions of the Gods of Dreams, and it so happened that that second pantheon disappeared at the very moment Greyvan gathered the lands of Valtheim under his banner.”

“Let’s assume so,” I nodded. “And what happened next?”

“Next, the Gods of Dreams began to weave a nightmare,” Evelina answered quietly. “And the first rift of this nightmare appeared in Sumerenn.”

“And because of that, people became insane lunatics?” I clarified, connecting the new data with the legends of the twin queens.

Evelina nodded. “I do not know what it was; some data writes about portals, others about rifts under the ground. In any case, there are no true witnesses left,” Evelina replied. “However, the Twilight Palace was completely destroyed, and some say that it still exists in nightmares.” Evelina turned away and looked into the distance.

“Apparently, the nightmare is some kind of parallel world?” I clarified, understanding how it usually works.

“Perhaps, Arta, I do not know,” Evelina answered coldly. “But let’s not talk about it. We will leave soon, Arta. I do not want to be here anymore.” She sighed deeply.

“But still, you do not want to leave?” I clarified, understanding that the decision was not easy for her.

Evelina shook her head. “That is not the point. I feel danger, from Vespera, from my brother. I am not telling you everything, even though we have a blood pact. Just know that a game is being played behind the scenes, and this game has no rules.” Evelina moved away from me toward the exit from the balcony, then turned to me and said, “Today is my birthday.”

Evelina did not look happy, and her gaze distorted the sad melancholy of her inner world. On her holiday, the 31st day of the Veytra of Vulanis, it only told me that the fire in her heart would burn as long as the Veytra of fire of this world was intact, and she would never stop fighting for what she considered valuable, even if it destroyed everything around.

“I did not prepare a gift,” I replied dryly, looking her in the eye.

“That was not necessary,” she answered ironically. “My birthday is a formal and family holiday. Without invited guests.” She paused. “It does not concern you.”

“Alright. But should I be near?” I clarified just in case.

“Yes. Your task will be to wait by the door.” She said this without a sting and without irritation. It was an ordinary order that she wanted me to carry out perfectly. “You do not enter the hall, you do not participate in the celebration. You just stand guard. I need someone to be there whom I trust at least formally.” She smiled coldly.

“I understand. In that case, I am ready,” I answered calmly and took a few steps toward her.

Evelina just nodded, and soon we went down the long, dark corridors and stairs of the castle to the hall located on the first floor, where the celebration was to take place.

At the door, she looked at me intently and said in an undertone, “I will not be long; we will leave soon.”

I just nodded, watching as she disappeared behind the doors. I spent the rest of the morning by the massive double-leafed door, behind which the royal family was supposed to gather.

The first of the guests to enter was Frederik—in a formal red uniform, then Robert in an ashen jacket, then Queen Margaret in a burgundy dress with gold embroidery, accompanied by Konrad Cross in a white uniform with gold galloons. I was just a shadow; no one looked at me, but I did not mind. All I could do was wait.

The celebration went on for several hours. I heard no laughter from behind the doors. Not a single joyful voice. Sometimes, footsteps came from there—the silken rustle of dresses, the short tap of heels, the clinking of thin glass. Nothing more. All I could do was be a frozen guard of a celebration that no one wanted to celebrate.

***

The figures in black mantles appeared as if from a tear in space—they did not enter but seeped through, like ink spilled on the clean parchment of reality. Their movements were unnaturally smooth, devoid of human inertia, like puppets guided by an unseen hand. Their eyes, empty as bottomless pools under the hoods concealing their faces, reflected neither reason nor fear—they absorbed light, returning nothing. In their hands—sickles sprinkled with blood, thin as a breath, sharp as a curse. Fresh blood dripped slowly, in thick drops, from their matte-black blades, leaving hissing, smoking trails on the polished marble floor, from which came the faint smell of ozone and rotting flesh.

There were no screams in the castle, no groans, only a sinister silence, polished and cold as a blade.

I began to act—perhaps a fraction of a second later than I should have. A microscopic miscalculation, caused by the anomalous nature of their appearance, was recorded in my mind as an unacceptable deviation.

Chains of Order erupted from the air, woven from my pure will. Golden, translucent links clinked as they wrapped around the attackers, restraining their movements as I, the architect of equilibrium, imposed my will upon the world.

But not all submitted; some were quite strong and possessed magic. The air around them crackled, distorted by chaotic energy. The chains, touching them, flared and crumbled to dust. They broke free—and instantly unleashed a barrage of elemental spells on me. Tongues of flame of an unnatural, sickly-scarlet color; water whips that left wet scars on the walls; gusts of wind, sharp as shards of glass, and even unstable clots of Aether. Pathetic but furious attempts to disrupt the balance.

I responded to their attacks with calm. With Darkness—quiet, striking, final. An inner abyss—a violet flash and gloom. A wave of absolute emptiness, having neither temperature nor sound, passed through them and sent them into an eternal sleep.

The attackers’ voices drowned in their own throats. Their skin darkened for a moment, then cracked like old parchment and crumbled to dust, which was immediately drawn into oblivion. One by one, they collapsed, and only their weapons and mantles fell to the floor with a dull thud, creating a sharp, alien clang in the fear-soaked silence.

From behind the black doors where the celebration was taking place, Frederik and Robert burst out.

“What happened here?!” Frederik shouted, drawing his rapier with a look as if he hoped the threat was still alive. His aristocratic composure cracked, revealing bewilderment.

“An invasion. They killed people,” I nodded briefly at the empty mantles. “Some kind of cult. Not just fanatics.”

I knelt by one of them, tore an amulet from his neck—a rhombus of an unknown, cold metal with an inverted eye pierced by a needle. At the same instant, the remaining clothes and weapons of the cultists began to evaporate, turning into black smoke. Nothing remained of them. And only the cold grew denser.

“That… that’s…” Robert, nearly stumbling over the edge of the carpet, whispered, his face turning as white as a sheet, “The Cult of the Gods of Dreams…”

I examined the amulet in my hand. The symbol was not just a mark; it was a secret sign, a key that allowed the mind to go where it should never go. It resonated with the very fabric of reality, opening a passage to its underside.

Evelina ran into the hall. She was holding back her fear, but there was too much of it—it sparked in every one of her movements.

“What happened here?!” she repeated after Frederik.

“Your Highness,” I approached, “it was the Cult of the Gods of Dreams. Obviously, they wanted blood.” I came closer and handed her the amulet.

Evelina took it, her fingers trembled, but she forced them to clench. She did not say a word for a long time. Then quietly, almost inaudibly, “The Sleeping Eye… So it is true… They are really returning?”

“It was never a fairy tale,” Robert whispered. His face became pale, and the curse hanging over him trembled and seemed to come to life from a long sleep, growing thicker and darker.

Finally, the guards ran in—late, choking on excuses.

“An attack! A secret sect! We… we did not expect it! They came out as if from a rift,” the officer shouted, barely catching his breath.

Frederik exploded, “Where were you, dogs?! We were nearly slaughtered in our own home! Quickly, after me! We need to make sure there is no one else here.” Frederik shouted like a man who no longer believed in control, yet his anger was not knightly—it was a fake, and something was obviously hiding behind it.

Frederik and the guards left us and ran through the other sections of the castle, and I was left alone, guarding the royal family from other possible threats.

***

“Artalis. We are leaving. Immediately,” Evelina said half an hour later, when the guards returned.

I escorted her to the exit of the palace along with two guards who still seemed not to understand what and how had happened.

About ten bodies lay near the gates. The wounds were inflicted skillfully and unexpectedly; they did not even have a chance to resist. However, the cultists had definitely not entered the castle through the main entrance, which meant there were portals, perhaps even from that world of nightmares that Evelina had spoken of.

Ten minutes later, a carriage was brought to the palace. I helped the princess inside, and we set off—in silence.

The landscape outside the window changed like a passing story. And we were farther and farther from the city of dreams, which seemed never to sleep.

The silence lasted until night fell and we began to approach the “Black Swan” inn. Only then did Evelina try to regain her inner calm and speak, “This cult…” She did not look at me, only forward, into the darkness. “I suspect that they are connected to Frederik.”

“Perhaps. Frederik’s behavior also seemed strange to me. However, the attackers were true madmen,” I remarked coldly.

“Yes…” Evelina muttered. “But Frederik took one artifact from the academy. It is called the ‘Crystal Tear.’ It was…” she faltered. “It was the tear of Ildri Valtheim. According to legend—her last emotion, frozen in eternity.”

“Perhaps the attack was a pretext to hand this artifact over to them?” I clarified, understanding the seriousness of the accusations.

“I have no proof,” Evelina shook her head. “Frederik said that the tear was not in the academy to begin with and that someone had stolen it earlier,” Evelina muttered in a half-whisper, as if afraid she would be overheard.

“I do not want to justify Frederik, but perhaps that is a partial truth,” I replied, understanding that Chaotic-Darkness could well be playing a double game even with her own puppet.

Evelina sighed. As if what she was about to say should not have been said at all. “I do not know… Just, Artalis, there are four artifacts in total: the Crystal Tear, the Bloody Ruby, the Pearl of Loss… and the Seal of the God of Dreams. When all of them are collected, the web of dreams will once again descend upon Valtheim. The Gods of Dreams will once again be able to do what was only spoken of in legends.”

Evelina had decided to be frank with me, but I felt that her words were only a partial truth for now. Perhaps she had not yet said the most candid thing.

“And what will happen next when all four artifacts are in one hands?” I looked her intently in the eye, awaiting an answer to my question. “Will the Gods of Dreams appear as in a fairy tale?”

“This is not a fairy tale, Artalis,” Evelina said with difficulty. “The artifacts for the summoning ritual are not enough; they also need a key.” Evelina paled. “And that key is a heart… The heart of the heiress.”

A heavy silence hung in the carriage. I did not answer, not out of politeness, but out of understanding, for sometimes silence is the best thing one can offer a companion.

Despite her lost appearance, Evelina decided to continue. “I am sure that Frederik is behind all this, or rather, Vespera… And the fact that they appeared on my birthday cannot be a coincidence…” Evelina sighed again. “I am sure that this is some kind of sinister conspiracy and a game whose rules I still do not know.”

“Perhaps so,” I replied, understanding that the game had long gone beyond ordinary political struggle.

Evelina looked at me—tiredly, almost detachedly—and sighed again, before the coachman opened the carriage doors and we went to the inn to spend the night.

The next day, the road to the academy passed in empty silence, as if the fear of the past events had completely consumed Evelina’s thoughts, and her silent eyes looked out the window, as if her mind were trying to reassemble its own self from shards of glass.