Chapter 184: shadows in Maelstrom

The city smelled of iron and damp stone.  

Maelstrom was nothing like the quiet, hidden village I had left behind. It was a world of towering structures, paved roads slick with the filth of a kingdom rotting from the inside. The air was thick with smoke from the forges, the streets bustling with merchants shouting over each other, their wares lined up in messy displays of wealth and desperation. Beggars sat hunched in the alleys, watching the crowds with hollow eyes, while armored guards patrolled with an iron grip, their expressions hard and unyielding.  

This was my father’s kingdom.  

And now, it was mine to take.  

Blending in.

We had arrived at dusk, slipping through the city gates like ghosts. Our magic cloaked us, disguising the silver of our hair—one of the few things that could have given us away instantly.  

“Keep your heads down,” Riven had warned as we entered the crowded marketplace. “Act like you belong.”  

It was easier said than done.  

I had spent my entire life among mages, living in a village where magic was part of everyday existence. Here, it was different. Here, the wrong kind of magic could get you killed.  

We found an inn on the lower side of the city, a place where no one asked too many questions. The **Broken Lantern** was a run-down tavern attached to a row of small rooms, the kind of place where weary travelers stopped for a night of sleep and a cheap drink before moving on. It was perfect.  

The innkeeper, a stocky man with a missing tooth and a thick beard, barely glanced at us as we paid for our rooms. He was more interested in the coins we slid across the counter than in our names or business.  

That suited us just fine.  

Inside, the rooms were small and smelled of stale ale, but they were safe. I could hear the sounds of the city outside—the distant hammering of blacksmiths, the murmuring of voices drifting through the wooden walls.  

We had made it inside.  

Now, we had to wait.  

The first few days were spent learning the city.  

Riven and I ventured out in pairs, always keeping to the busier streets where we could blend in. We listened to conversations, eavesdropped on soldiers as they drank in the taverns, watched how the people of Maelstrom carried themselves.  

Sirius was not the king they had expected.  

“He does not rule,” one merchant grumbled as he haggled over the price of furs. “He control..”  

“Better than his father,” another muttered. “But not by much.”  

The stories painted a picture of a man who had lost himself to grief and fury. A king who drank more than he ruled. A ruler who struck down his enemies with a blade still wet with the blood of his father.  

And yet, no one dared to defy him.  

Fear hung over the city like a cloud.  

I sat by the window of our small rented room that night, staring at the city lights in the distance.  

I should have felt satisfied knowing that my father was weak, that his grip on the throne was slipping. But instead, I felt... nothing.  

He was a monster. I had known that the moment I saw Yong’s body in the snow.  

But hearing the way people spoke of him, of how he had become the very thing he once despised, made my chest feel tight with something I couldn’t name.  

Riven sat across from me, sharpening his dagger. The rhythmic sound of steel scraping against stone filled the silence between us.  

“You should get some rest,” he said without looking up.  

“I can’t.”  

He stopped, meeting my gaze. “Still thinking about him?”  

I clenched my fists. “He deserves worse than what I’m going to do to him.”  

Riven studied me for a long moment, then sighed, setting his blade down. “Hate makes people reckless, Aster. If you let it blind you, you won’t be any better than him.”  

I turned back to the window. “I’m not him.”  

But the words felt empty in my mouth.  

The real challenge was finding a way into the castle.  

It wasn’t as simple as storming the gates with swords drawn. Sirius may have been drowning himself in liquor, but his fortress was still heavily guarded.  

We needed a way inside.  

One night, while drinking in the tavern, we overheard a group of soldiers discussing an upcoming event—a grand feast in the castle for Maelstrom’s nobles. It was an opportunity.  

“I can get us in,” one of our men, a mage named Corwin, said as we huddled around the table. “Illusion spells. We pose as servants.”  

“It’s risky,” Riven said, rubbing his chin. “But it could work.”  

I nodded slowly. “We just need to get close enough. One chance.”  

And then, as if fate had decided to test us, a voice from the next table froze me in place.  

“Did you hear? The king’s been acting strange lately. Keeps calling out the name of the princess who ran away in his sleep”  

The name sent a cold chill down my spine.  

I turned slightly, catching sight of the man who had spoken. A soldier, drunk and leaning against his friend.  

“They say he still dreams of her,” the other soldier chuckled. “Poor bastard. Loved a woman who never loved him back.”  

I felt my fingers dig into the wood of the table.  

Even after everything, he still thought of her.  

Still dreamed of her.  

I stood abruptly. “We’re leaving.”  

Riven raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue.  

As we stepped into the cold night air, my heart pounded.  

This wasn’t just about revenge anymore.  

It was about revenge or ending him.  

By the end of the week, we were ready.  

The illusion magic would last long enough for us to slip past the guards, disguising us as part of the castle’s staff. The rest of our men would wait outside, hidden in the city, ready to strike the moment we gave the signal.  

We had waited long enough.  

Sirius had stolen too much from me.  

Now, it was time to take something from him.  

His throne.  

His life.  

Everything.