Seven
The night air of Eclipsis was charged with a tense anticipation as he waited in the shadows, the weight of his actions heavy in his chest. Around him, the city thrummed with life, oblivious to the unfolding drama in its underbelly. He glanced at his companion, a fellow member of the Ascendants, their faces obscured by the dim light.
“We have to do this quickly, without a trace,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the city.
His companion nodded, a sense of solemnity in his movement. Together, they had been chosen for this task by the Ascendants, a responsibility that felt both exhilarating and daunting.
They watched from hiding as the car approached, its headlights cutting through the foggy night. There it was, just like the Unbound said it would be. The sigil of Thokkuntha. It was there, on the car's lower right side.
“There,” his comrade said, turning towards him. “You see it, the sigil, right?”
He nodded.
“That means we are chosen,” his comrade explained excitedly, “Now’s the time.”
The car came to a stop and a woman stepped out and headed into Draken Tower. The driver stepped out for a smoke once the woman was out of view. It was their moment to act.
With a swift, coordinated effort, they moved in. He went to the back side of the car, his comrade to the front. As they neared, his comrade yelled out “Hey!” to the driver, drawing the driver’s attention. He used the distraction and snuck up behind the driver, wrapping both arms and hands firmly around the driver’s head and mouth. His comrade then pulled out the blade, slicing the driver’s throat and then stabbing him several times in the chest and stomach. The struggle was brief, and the driver quickly lost consciousness. They worked quickly to move the body to the trunk, ensuring no signs of the struggle were left behind.
He slid into the driver’s seat, his hands steady on the wheel. His companion took the passenger seat, his expression unreadable in the faint glow of the dashboard. They put on their masks.
As they waited, the enormity of what they were doing began to sink in. They were no longer just followers; they were chosen. He could feel the pulse of the city around him, yet it felt different, as if he had stepped into another world. He was now beyond and within Eclipsis. He was Eclipsis.
Then, through the windshield, they saw her – Elara Vox. She moved with a graceful sense of arrogance and pride, unaware of the trap that awaited her. His heart raced.
As she approached the car, his companion leaned over, his voice a hushed echo in the confined space. “Remember, chosen. Our purpose has come.”
As Elara began to open the car door, a part of him wanted to turn back, to undo everything. But he knew that part of him had to die now. The path was now his path, their will, his will.
Elara stepped into the car and the door closed with a soft click.
