Mother of Midnight

Chapter 62 – Early Morning Update

Back up in the rafters, Vivienne licked her claws clean, the lingering taste of Laiken's blood still sharp and satisfying. The mannequin beside her remained ever vigilant, its motionless form perched in the shadows with eerie stillness. Renzia had no eyes, only a cold metal stitch running down the center of her face, but Vivienne often felt like the mannequin's silent gaze could see straight through her, its presence an odd comfort in the darkness.

Laiken had been a potent meal, filled with aether. Perhaps not as much as an aetherbeast—those terrifying creatures that roamed the wilderness—but far superior to the weak merchant she’d consumed earlier that night. It was a hunger sated, but Vivienne's thoughts remained sharp, as they always were after feeding. There was still much to be done.

“Should I try finding this ‘undercity’ first or should I go report to Narek and ask for directions?” Vivienne asked, her voice a low murmur in the silence. She leaned slightly forward, her gaze drifting toward the flickering lantern below.

Renzia didn’t respond, her head tilting to one side in a subtle, jerky motion. The mannequin’s face, blank and unseeing, gave no indication of understanding, yet the way she moved suggested her complete attentiveness. There was something unsettlingly unwavering in Renzia’s silence, as if the mannequin’s presence alone held some sort of meaning Vivienne couldn’t quite articulate.

Vivienne exhaled softly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re right,” she continued, her tone lightly mocking. “I should be a good little operative and report to Narek. Wouldn’t want to go too far and leave him an unsatisfied customer.”

Vivienne rose from her perch in the rafters, her movements graceful despite the blood spattering her dress. She glanced down at Renzia, who had not moved an inch, the mannequin’s face eerily blank as always. Vivienne tilted her head slightly, as if considering some silent conversation with herself, then made her way back down the ladder with silent steps, avoiding the creaks of the old wood beneath her feet.

The warehouse was eerily quiet as she slipped out, the weight of Laiken’s corpse still hanging in her mind, even as the remnants of her meal were nothing more than a distant hunger satisfied. She carefully navigated through the streets, taking back alleys and keeping to the shadows, wary of any attention her bloodied appearance might draw. The streets of Serkoth, though mostly empty at this hour, could still hold unwanted eyes. Her dress, now more red than brown, clung to her skin, every inch soaked in blood, a trail of it marking her path. The sharp, metallic scent would make any creature with a keen nose aware of her presence—she needed to move fast.

Vivienne and Renzia reached the Serkoth clanhall with ease, a structure both imposing and grand, rising above the other buildings with its high stone walls and the heavy air of authority surrounding it. She didn’t need to knock, didn’t need to announce herself—after all, Narek had given her free rein. Her only goal now was to keep her bloodstained form out of sight until she could get to his private quarters.

Inside, the clanhall was still, most of the clan’s members either asleep or scattered across the city. Vivienne moved quickly, heading up the grand staircase to Narek’s chambers. Her steps were deliberate, careful. She didn’t want to bring attention to herself—not in this state. She pushed open the door to his bedroom as quietly as possible, the hinges barely creaking.

Narek was asleep, his figure illuminated by the soft flicker of a candle by his bedside. The covers were pulled up to his chest, and for a moment, Vivienne felt almost an odd sense of calm, watching him as he lay there, unaware of the storm that had already passed through Serkoth.

She moved toward the bed, her feet soundless against the cold stone floor. It wasn’t until she was standing beside him, hovering just over the edge of the sheets, that she spoke.

“Narek,” she whispered, her voice sharp in the stillness.

Narek jerked awake, his breath catching as the sharp sound of movement snapped him from sleep. For a moment, his eyes remained blurry with the fog of slumber, his mind struggling to piece together what had roused him. Then, as his gaze focused, he froze. Vivienne stood before him, her form bathed in a sickly sheen of blood, her dress shredded and clinging to her skin like a second layer. The dark fluid pooled around her feet, staining the stone floor, while her expression remained eerily calm, as though this were all nothing more than a casual affair. The stillness of her demeanor only heightened the grotesque contrast of her state—she looked less like a person and more like something returned from a hunt.

“Narek,” Vivienne spoke again, her voice smooth and unbothered, her lips curving into a small, predatory smile. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous satisfaction. “I’ve completed the task. Laiken is no longer a problem.”

Narek’s body jerked upright, his hand instinctively reaching for the dagger lying beside him on the bed, his pulse quickening. His mind raced with confusion, disbelief, and something darker creeping in. His eyes searched her form, taking in the grim sight of her, trying to comprehend. When he spoke, his voice was rough, laced with both anger and alarm. “What in the gods’ names happened to you? And who the hell is Laiken?”

Vivienne chuckled softly, the sound dark and almost soothing, like the rustle of leaves before a storm. She stepped closer, the blood on her skin making the faintest squelching sound as her feet shifted. “Laiken,” she began, her tone cool, as though discussing something trivial, “was a lackey for Skoll Rathik. She was also tied to Drevaris. Or, I should say, ‘she worked for him’.”

Vivienne’s voice carried a soft edge of mockery, the way she lingered on Drevaris’ name sending a ripple of unease through the air between them. The name itself hung in the dim light of the room, a ghost of something far darker than the present moment. Its implications stretched like shadowed tendrils, curling through the space between them and tightening with each passing second.

Narek’s grip tightened around the dagger hilt, his knuckles white as he studied her—his eyes shifting between her blood-soaked form and her eerily composed expression. The sense of something wrong, something unseen in her, made his heart race. The blood, the casual way she spoke of death—it wasn’t the Vivienne he knew, and that realization made him pause, his instincts prickling with unease.

He swallowed, trying to force his voice steady despite the knot that had formed in his throat. "What did you do?" His words were quieter now, laced with something he couldn’t name—a mix of dread and disbelief, the kind that came when a door to something else had been opened. Something beyond what he could understand.

Vivienne leaned slightly forward, her gaze fixed on him with unsettling clarity, as though she were studying the very way his mind was working, peeling back his layers. She shrugged with a casualness that only seemed to highlight the difference between them—his uncertainty, her complete detachment. “I convinced both of them to give me some information,” she said lightly, her voice almost airy, as though discussing nothing more than a mundane conversation.

The way she spoke left him with a pit in his stomach. The deliberate nonchalance. Her total lack of remorse. His hand remained clenched around the dagger, but the weight of his next question sat heavy on his chest.

“What information?” he asked, voice low, though his mind was racing. The fact that she’d succeeded in extracting anything from them was enough to make him wary, but the way she handled the consequences in a single night so effortlessly—too effortlessly—made his skin crawl. He had expected her to take days at the very least.

“The name of their employer, Skoll Rathik, and that he is very much tied to aegis. Also that he is currently in the undercity.” Said Vivienne.

Narek clicked his tongue in annoyance, his lupine ears twitching slightly in agitation as he processed Vivienne’s words. “The undercity... expansive, nearly impossible to guard or patrol,” he muttered under his breath, as if trying to make sense of the information she had given him. His eyes never left her, studying her as he tried to reconcile what she had told him with the gravity of the situation. “Serkoth doesn’t have much crime, but all of it, it seems, festers down there. A place where the worst things happen—hidden from the light.”

Vivienne remained silent, her body still, her eyes gleaming with a cold intensity. She didn’t need to speak again—her presence in the room was enough. Her blood-slicked dress and serene demeanor contrasted sharply with the rawness of the revelation. She wasn’t here to indulge in pleasantries. Her mission was singular, and she would get what she wanted, no matter the cost.

Narek’s sharp gaze narrowed as his mind raced to keep up. “Are you sure it was Skoll Rathik?” he asked, his voice thick with skepticism. “The Rathiks are a respected family here. Powerful. Influential.” His hands tightened briefly around the dagger, his body still on edge. “They’ve been ardent supporters in the war. They have more sway than you think. Why would someone like him be down there?”

Vivienne let out a soft, knowing chuckle, as if the answer were so obvious it didn’t need to be spoken. “I’m sure,” she replied, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. “I have ways of knowing. Skoll Rathik is tied to Aegis as well—a connection deeper than you might realize.”

Narek’s grip on his dagger loosened slightly, though he didn’t let it go. He doubted it would do much to this creature, but the familiar weight of the blade in his hand was a small comfort. “I hope, for the sake of the larger families, that he’s the only one tied to the Sovereignty,” he said, his voice steady but laced with caution. “As for directions, I know of a few entrances, but the undercity is a labyrinth. I can’t help you beyond that.”

Vivienne waved him off dismissively. “That’s fine. I can navigate once I’m inside. I just wanted to report in, give you an update, and then get some directions,” she said, her tone light. Then, as if remembering something, she paused and patted her tattered dress with exaggerated surprise. “Ah, right! I have some documents for you too.”

She pulled out a ledger and a handful of handwritten letters, each in varying states of disarray, thanks to the blood she had inadvertently splattered on them. She set them on the table, her movements slow and deliberate, the bloodstains almost adding to the air of gravitas she exuded. “All of this is from Drevaris,” Vivienne said, her voice quiet but firm. “These papers tie him to some interesting dealings—ones that connect him directly to the Aegis Sovereignty.”

Narek gingerly grabbed one of the letters, carefully avoiding the bloodstains, though he couldn’t entirely dismiss the smell of iron that clung to the pages. His golden eyes scanned the words quickly, his sharp mind already piecing together the fragments of information Vivienne had presented. There was a sense of urgency in his movements as he read, the faint tension still lingering in his posture as he absorbed the content.

"This... this is damning," he muttered, his voice low and filled with an edge of concern. "Drevaris was more deeply involved than we thought. These transactions... they connect him directly to the Sovereignty, not just in name but in action. And the families—" He stopped mid-sentence, his fingers tight around the paper as he processed the implications. "He was planning something, wasn't he? And it involved far more than just money."

Vivienne didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she watched him, her expression unreadable. She could feel the weight of the situation shifting. She had done her part, gathered the pieces, and now the ball was in Narek’s court. His reaction was important—it would determine the next steps.

“You’re well-informed for someone just learning the ropes,” Narek commented without looking up, his voice a mix of admiration and wariness. He reached for another letter, careful not to smudge any further blood across the text. “These notes, they speak of a network—covert dealings, hidden shipments, alliances. If Drevaris was only a small part of this, I can only imagine how deep the rot runs.”

Vivienne smirked, her tone casual as if discussing something inconsequential. “Well, I’m resourceful. You never know what you’ll find when you start pulling on threads.” She gave a small shrug, as though uncovering dark truths was just another day’s work.

Narek set the papers down carefully, his movements deliberate as he absorbed the gravity of the situation. He looked up at Vivienne, his expression a blend of contemplation and reluctant respect. “And now, you’re planning to go into the undercity? To confront Rathik’s connections? What are you going to do?” His gaze lingered on her for a moment, searching for something—perhaps a hint of vulnerability or doubt. But the question came out more as a statement than a query, as if he already knew the answer.

Vivienne’s lips curled into a wide, wicked grin, her teeth flashing in the dim light. “Do you really want to know the answer to that, Narek?” she asked, her tone dripping with cold mockery, her eyes gleaming with something dangerous.

Narek hesitated, his eyes flicking briefly to the dagger at his side before he exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging in resignation. “I suppose I don’t,” he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. “I just want this rot cut out from the clan. Once and for all.”

Vivienne inclined her head with a slow, deliberate gesture. “Then consider it done.” Her voice was light, almost playful, but her eyes were unyielding. “You’re paying me for this, yes?” She paused for a moment, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes as she tilted her head in feigned curiosity. “Well, I hope so. I actually don’t know the value of what you paid me!”

She giggled softly, a sound that seemed almost mocking in the context of the blood still dripping from her tattered dress. It was a chilling, dissonant laugh, as if she found the chaos she had wrought to be somehow amusing. The mockery in her tone, the way she seemed to revel in the absurdity of the situation, only served to heighten the unnerving presence she exuded.

Her eyes, gleaming with something predatory, flicked toward Narek, a question lingering in her gaze as she wiped a stray drop of blood from her cheek with the back of her hand. “So, where is an entrance?” she asked, her voice casual, as though discussing a simple errand rather than a descent into a labyrinthine underworld.

Narek took a moment, his eyes narrowing as he processed the question. His gaze shifted to the floor, his mind evidently retracing the details of the city’s layout. “The closest one I know of…” He trailed off, clearly weighing the risk. “Several buildings down the street. There’s an abandoned bakery. Old, long-forgotten. But there’s a hidden entrance inside, beneath the floorboards.”

Vivienne’s smirk deepened, her lips curling at the thought of yet another convoluted maze to navigate, the thrill of it all clear in her expression. She allowed the silence to stretch for a moment before she let out another soft chuckle, like a dark little secret she was pleased to keep. "Well, then,” she said, her tone light but edged with something darker. “I’m off to go hunt some more rats. Tata, darling.” The words were sweet, almost like a playful farewell, but the lethal intent beneath them was unmistakable.

Her eyes flicked once more to Narek, a flash of something dangerous crossing her face, and for just a brief moment, the room felt colder, as if the air itself held its breath. Then, with a final wave of her bloodstained hand, she turned and walked out of the room, the sound of her footsteps oddly soft on the stone floor, as if she were more shadow than substance.

As she disappeared into the night, the echo of her giggle lingered in the air, the unsettling sound fading into the distance, like a whisper from a predator that was already far out of reach.