Chapter 20

“Contract?” Astrid’s arms crossed beneath her chest, her posture unyielding as she slowly rose from the chair. Her gaze, cold and calculating, locked onto mine, piercing through the defenses I struggled to maintain.

“An urgent one, preferably.” I added, forcing the words out as I met her eyes, my voice laced with the desperation I couldn’t fully hide.

A smirk danced at the corner of her lips as she sauntered toward the counter, her every step deliberate, a cat toying with its prey. “And what makes you want to leave so desperately?”

Frustration surged within me, coiling like a serpent ready to strike. My brows furrowed, and I averted my gaze, struggling to quell the storm raging in my chest. “Nothing. I just want to get out.”

The sanctuary had become a fortress, a place where the world’s chaos could not reach me. But in these recent days, it had morphed into a cage, its once comforting walls now closing in on me, suffocating, stifling.

Behind me, Astrid’s movements were slow, deliberate. She poured a dark liquid into a goblet, the faint clinking of glass the only sound that filled the oppressive silence.

“To me, it sounds like you’re running away.”

Was I?

I clenched my fists at my sides, feeling the sting of her words, each syllable like a needle piercing through the fragile threads of my resolve.

“I am not.” My voice snapped, the edge of it more jagged than I intended, slicing through the air between us. I crossed my arms defensively, the gesture a shield against the vulnerability her words had exposed. “I want to serve, as usual.”

Astrid turned to me, leaning back against the counter, a glass of wine cradled in her hand. Her gaze never wavered, eyes boring into mine with a smirk that was both warm and unsettling, “But these are not usual times, now are they?” she mused, taking a slow sip as if savoring the turmoil she had unleashed within me.

She must have sensed the desperation clawing at me, for her smirk deepened, darkened. “A contract,” she said, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that sent a chill racing down my spine. “For an assassin. Or,” she paused, her smile twisting into something more sinister, “a Thalmor, for a Silencer.”

Her words echoed in the hollow space within me, my heart hammering in response.

“A Thalmor?”

“An ally.”

Shock rippled through me, freezing me in place as the weight of her words settled over me like a shroud. My arms fell limply to my sides, the fight draining out of me. “An ally?”

Astrid sighed, exasperation threading through her tone as she took a step back, her gaze never leaving mine. “I know, like I said, these are unusual times.”

Fury ignited within me, burning away the shock in an instant. The flames licked at my insides, scorching away the last remnants of restraint.

A Thalmor as an ally?

She had lost her mind—after everything they have done to me. After the countless Thalmor I had struck down with my blade, their blood a sacrifice to the cause she had sworn me to. And now she wanted to align with them?

“It’s not what you think,” she retorted, draining her goblet with a careless tilt of her wrist. “He’s against them, not with them.”

“And you believe that?” I took a step closer, the distance between us shrinking as my fists tightened at my sides, my anger barely contained, threatening to spill over. “Astrid, a Thalmor—” My voice trembled with rage, the words tasting like ash on my tongue, yet she merely shrugged, dismissive, indifferent.

“A Thalmor is always a Thalmor, huh?” She turned back to the counter, pouring another reckless cup of wine, the liquid sloshing over the edge, staining the wood. “Then what does that make you?”

Her words struck deep, a cruel twist of the knife, tearing open wounds I had thought long healed. My composure shattered, the façade I had built crumbling away beneath the weight of her accusations.

She can’t do this to me.

I lunged forward, the motion swift and predatory, closing the distance between us in an instant. I seized her goblet, yanking it from her grasp with a force that sent the dark liquid spilling over the edge, splattering onto the floor.

“Remember, Astrid,” I hissed, struggling to mask the venom in my voice, the fury that burned so hot it seared my throat, “I chose you over Nazir.”

I leaned in, our faces inches apart, the heat of my anger radiating off me like a flame, her eyes blazing with a slow, simmering fire that mirrored my own. “I gave you a thousand souls.”

“I know, I know it all.” She whispered desperately, “ That’s why I want you to be my Silencer.”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, their weight pressing down on me. I placed the chalice on the counter, my fingers lingering on the cool metal as if grounding myself. My gaze locked onto hers, searching for any trace of doubt, but found none. Astrid, as always, was resolute, forcing me into yet another impossible choice.

Nazir’s warning echoed through my mind, a shadowy whisper that refused to be silenced. His voice, laced with concern, had been a lifeline in moments like this—a reminder of the dangers of treading too closely to the flame that was Astrid.

“I can’t tell anyone about this, not even Arnbjorn,” she whispered, her tone dipped in secrecy, slicing through my thoughts with the precision of a blade. “Like I told you before, they would not understand. No one understands.” The bitterness in her voice was palpable, a confession wrapped in the armor of her usual defiance.

But then her voice softened, took on a tone I had rarely heard from her—sincere, almost vulnerable. She leaned in closer, her eyes shimmering with something that twisted painfully in my chest. Longing.

“No one understands me like you do.”

The words struck me, shattering the remnants of my composure. I took a step back, tearing my gaze from hers, unable to bear the raw emotion in her eyes. My gaze drifted to the window frame, the world beyond a blur of shadows and moonlight, as if offering me an escape I couldn’t take.

“I need you, Niolenyl.”

Her voice, a soft plea, reached out to me, pulling me back from the brink. Her fingertips brushed against the underside of my chin, a gentle caress that coaxed me to turn back, to meet her eyes once more. There was a silent desperation in them, a plea that cut deeper than any blade she had ever wielded. It was a vulnerability she rarely showed, a chink in her armor that she revealed only to me.

The warmth of her touch sent a shiver down my spine, a contrast to the cold knot of dread coiling within me. Astrid’s need, her dependence on me, was a chain that bound me, a tether I could never fully sever. And she knew it. She knew how to wield my loyalty, my understanding, as a weapon—one that could pierce through the walls I had built around my heart.

But the choice she offered was no choice at all. It was a path I had walked too many times before, each step deeper into the shadows, into the silence that threatened to consume me.

“What do you need me to do?” The question slipped from my lips, cold and unyielding, as I took a step back. Her hand, which had cupped my chin with such delicate insistence, fell away like a withered leaf, leaving a chill in its absence.

Astrid sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts. “Well, we need to start with this Thalmor. See if he’s really one of them.”

My heart thudded against my ribcage, an unsettling rhythm that only seemed to grow louder. “You want me to go after him?”

Her response was immediate, sharp, as if my question had cut her. “You got out of there, didn’t you?” She slid the goblet toward herself with languid fingers, the liquid inside swirling like the dark thoughts in my mind. “Maybe he wants it too.”

Her words gnawed at the edges of my resolve. Could it be possible? Could someone else be trapped in the same gilded cage I had barely escaped? It was a thought that, even in its slim hope, stirred something bitter and familiar within me.

The Thalmor, who had shaped my life with cruelty and twisted ideals, had a way of making the impossible seem attainable. I knew too well how they could plant seeds of hope only to crush them beneath their heel. After years of their conditioning, it was easy to see how someone could be seduced by the scraps of hope they offered, the illusion of freedom dangled just out of reach.

I had once thought I could be happy there, that I could find some semblance of peace if only I played my part perfectly.

“If you’re with me, I will find a way."

The memory, buried deep within the recesses of my mind, stirred like an ember in the ashes, threatening to reignite a fire I had long tried to extinguish. A flicker of pain surged through me, brief but powerful enough to remind me of all that I had lost.

I clenched my fists, trying to smother the emotions rising to the surface. But Astrid’s gaze was relentless, as if she could see right through me, her presence both a comfort and a reminder of the choices I had made—choices that had led me here, standing at another crossroads.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“I’ll do it.”

The words were barely out of my mouth before I saw the flicker of happiness in Astrid’s eyes, a spark that quickly ignited into something brighter—excitement, perhaps even a hint of triumph. Her hand found mine on the counter, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as they settled over mine. “Will you? Will you be my Silencer?”

I drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as I gazed down at her hand, its grip tightening as if afraid I might slip away. “I will do what I want to do, as usual. You’re free to call me whatever you want.”

“Oh, that’s amazing!” Her voice brimmed with enthusiasm, the smile on her lips widening as she pulled me toward her desk with a sudden, eager tug. I followed, my steps hesitant, each one feeling heavier than the last. “All we need is the blood oath!”

“Blood oath?” I froze in place, my gaze narrowing as she reached for Woe, the blade gleaming ominously as it emerged from its sheath.

“We need to swear under the eyes of our Father and Mother.” Her tone was reverent, as if the very act of swearing this oath held sacred significance. With deliberate care, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before retrieving a small, ornately carved box from one of the closed cabinets. She placed it on the desk and opened it, revealing its dark contents.

Under the eyes of our Father and Mother.

The phrase echoed in my mind, stirring a mixture of dread and inevitability. Astrid pulled a length of black cloth from the box, the fabric as dark as the void we served. With a quiet determination, she wrapped it around her wrist, her eyes lifting to meet mine with an expectant gleam.

My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a reminder of the gravity of what I was about to do. With a trace of hesitation, I extended my arm toward her, allowing her to bind it with the same cloth. The fabric felt cold against my skin, a shiver running down my spine as she secured it tightly.

“Niolenyl,” she whispered, her voice soft yet firm as her hand reached once more for Woe. “Trust me.”

Trust.

The word felt foreign, almost absurd in the world we inhabited. I trusted no one—not anymore. Not after everything I had endured, after all the betrayals and the lies. And yet, here I was, standing on the precipice of an oath that would bind me to her in ways I wasn’t sure I fully understood.

But it was too late to turn back now.

I nodded firmly, my resolve solidifying as Astrid took the blade to my wrist. The cut was precise, almost tender, as she drew the edge across my skin. My blood welled up, dark and thick, soaking into the black cloth that she swiftly wrapped around my wrist. Only then did I notice the texture of the fabric, rough and heavy with the weight of centuries—blackened not by dye, but by the dried blood of past Speakers and Silencers. A history of silent killers, all bound by this ritual, this cloth.

“Father,” Astrid began, her voice low and reverent as she closed her eyes. “Hear our calling tonight.”

The room grew unnervingly still, the air thick with anticipation. A chill crept up my spine as the candles lining the walls snuffed out one by one, plunging us into darkness. The only light now was the faint, eerie glow of the blood on our wrists.

“Bind our souls to one another.” her voice quivered ever so slightly, a tremor of emotion threading through her words.

“Let her rise,”

A sudden, searing pain surged through my veins, as though the very blood we’d spilled was burning its way into my flesh. My arm grew heavy, the weight of it pulling me down as if the dark ritual was anchoring me to something far deeper, far darker.

“The Silencer.” Astrid whispered, her breath a cold brush against my skin.

With that final invocation, the pain became all-consuming, a torrent of agony that clawed through my body. I squeezed my eyes shut, teeth gritted as I fought to maintain control, but the storm within me was relentless.

A cacophony of voices exploded in my mind, a thousand whispers merging into a chaotic symphony. They were all around me, inside me, each one speaking in a language I couldn’t fully grasp, their words crumbling into ash before they could take shape.

“Kill them all!”

“Blood is all you need.”

Each phrase struck like a hammer, driving deeper into my psyche. My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into the cold stone beneath me as I tried to anchor myself, to make sense of the madness.

“You see red, that’s your job.”

I struggled to isolate a single voice, to recognize any of the tones, but they were too many, too insistent, their words intertwining and overlapping until they became one relentless command.

“Serve.”

“Blood.”

“Kill. Them. All.”

The voices grew louder, more frequent, a pounding rhythm that filled every corner of my mind. My breath hitched, my chest tightening as the voices merged into a singular, overwhelming directive. I was drowning in their demands, lost in the tidal wave of their will.

And then, in a moment of clarity, I realized the ritual had not just bound me to Astrid—it had awakened something within, something ancient and ravenous. A force that had been lying dormant, now unleashed by the blood that stained the cloth around my wrist.

And in that darkness, as the voices surged and swelled, I felt a grim acceptance settle over me.

Is this my role, my fate?

To kill, to serve, to be the shadow in the night.

With a sharp gasp, my eyes flew open, and I found myself staring into the concerned gaze of Astrid, who was leaning over me. The sight of her face so close startled me, and I quickly sat up, my movements sluggish as if I were pushing through a thick fog. I looked around, disoriented, realizing I didn’t remember laying down in the first place.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, blinking slowly as her eyes roved over my face, searching for something—perhaps a sign that the ritual had taken hold.

I felt like hell. My ears rang with a high-pitched intensity that made every sound unbearable, my arm throbbed with a dull ache, and a dizzying wave of nausea threatened to topple me over with every movement.

“I’m fine,” I lied, my voice hoarse as I slid my legs off the bed with deliberate caution. The room swayed slightly as I moved, and I had to steady myself with a deep breath.

Astrid's gaze remained fixed on me, her concern thinly veiled by a mask of calm. I could tell she was more interested in whether the ritual had worked than in my actual well-being. Her eyes scanned me like I was a piece of work she had just crafted, searching for any flaws or imperfections.

I glanced down at my arm, noting that the wound had been carefully cleaned and stitched, now wrapped in a fresh bandage. The black cloth and the bow were gone, as if they had never existed.

“Easy,” Astrid murmured, her voice soft as she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder to steady me when I attempted to stand.

It took a few seconds for my legs to stop trembling, every muscle in my body protesting as I fought to maintain my balance. The effort of simply staying upright felt like a Herculean task.

“I said I’m fine.” I snapped, yanking myself out of her grip. I took a few unsteady steps back, needing to put some distance between us. Astrid’s hands lifted in a gesture of surrender, her expression tinged with something between surprise and curiosity as she watched me.

“You got what you wanted,” I added, my voice cold and edged with the lingering pain in my arm and mind. I crossed my arms over my chest, planting my feet firmly on the ground despite the lingering weakness.

“Now, tell me where to find this Thalmor.”

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“Are you leaving so soon?”

Amon’s voice cut through the air, snapping me out of my focus as I stuffed the last of my belongings into my bag. The soft creak of the door hinted at his presence, but I refused to acknowledge him, keeping my gaze fixed on the task at hand.

His silhouette loomed in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, but his eyes were anything but casual. They bore into me, filled with a concern that I chose to dismiss as insincere. I could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating, but I forced myself to ignore it.

“When,” I snapped, irritation flaring as I threw my hands up, “When are you going to learn how to knock?”

The frustration simmered just beneath the surface, a bitter taste on my tongue. I hated how he could just slip in and out of my space, how he seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. It made my skin crawl, made me feel exposed.

He crossed his arms, the muscles in his jaw tensing as his expression darkened. “It’s daylight.” he hissed, the words laced with a quiet accusation that made my blood boil.

“Right,” I muttered, forcing a tight smile as I turned back to my bag. “Shouldn’t you be in the dungeons? I thought you liked it there.”

The moment the words left my lips, I regretted them. But it was too late. I couldn’t take them back. I kept my movements deliberate, trying to maintain an air of indifference as I secured my bag, but I could feel the tension between us crackling like electricity.

In a flash, he was there, his speed so unnerving that it sent a shiver down my spine. His body pressed me against the dresser, the sudden closeness making my heart hammer in my chest. A strand of my hair fluttered up, caught in the rush of his movement, before falling back down, brushing against my cheek.

His hand rested on my waist, firm and possessive, while the other braced against the wall beside my head. His eyes, intense and smoldering, locked onto mine with a gaze that sent heat pooling in my stomach. The air between us grew heavy, charged with something dangerous and undeniably magnetic.

“I told you,” he growled, his voice low and filled with a raw intensity that made my breath catch, “I wished it was you.”

I wanted to move, to push him away, but my body betrayed me. I was rooted to the spot, my pulse quickening under his touch. His hand on my waist felt like it was branding me, burning through the layers of fabric and searing my skin.

He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over my lips, and I could feel the heat radiating from him, overwhelming and suffocating. “Through all of it,” he murmured, his lips curling into a smirk that was both infuriating and intoxicating, “I wished it was you.”

A shiver ran down my spine, a mix of fear and something else—something I didn’t want to name—coiling deep within me. His words echoed in my mind, blurring the line between threat and desire.

“I wish…” His voice trailed off, the unspoken words hanging between us, heavy with implication. His lips hovered just above mine, the distance between us so slight that I could feel his breath on my skin.

Desperation clawed at me, and with a sharp turn of my head, I broke the spell, my gaze darting away from his. I needed to escape his allure, to regain some semblance of control, but the tension lingered, a palpable force binding us in a moment that neither of us could shake.

“It will never be me.”

The words tumbled out, a cold and sharp truth I clung to. Yet even as I said it, something twisted inside me, a bitterness I couldn’t explain. I loathed the thought of Fen’s hands on him, her fingers tracing over his skin, her lips pressed to his. The mere image of it made something sick and ugly churn in my stomach, a dark frustration that festered beneath the surface. I shoved him away, more forcefully than I intended, but the need to create distance, to escape the entanglement of emotions, was overwhelming.

“What happened last night?” His voice was softer now, a question laced with concern that I didn’t want to hear. My movements slowed, but I kept silent, refusing to answer. “You lost a lot of blood, I could smell it… Is that—”

I froze, my gaze fixed on the door, my arm instinctively shifting behind my back to hide the wound. I could feel his frustration, a mirror to my own, but I didn’t care. I had to get out. I had to leave before this went any further.

“Wait—” His voice called out as I slung my bag over my shoulder, ignoring him as I moved toward the Black Door. I needed the fresh air, the space away from the suffocating closeness of the Sanctuary.

The door opened with a soft creak, and the dim daylight spilled in, warming my face with a tender touch. It felt like freedom, like a breath of fresh air in a place that was stifling me.

“Niolenyl!” His voice was a growl, his tone desperate, demanding my attention. I paused, glancing back over my shoulder just enough to see him out of the corner of my eye. “I can’t go out there!”

It was almost amusing, the idea that he thought we were a team, that he expected me to take him with me wherever I went, like there was some unspoken bond between us. But there wasn’t. There never would be.

“That’s the whole point. Have fun.”

With that, I stepped out into the daylight, leaving him behind. The warmth of the sun seeped into my skin, a silent intensity that felt like a promise of something different, something better.

As the door closed behind me, the tension dissipated, leaving only the steady beat of my heart and the weight of what I’d left behind.

I was alone, as I had always been, with an aching wound in my arm that pulsed in time with the heaviness in my chest.

To Markarth.

To be continued…