Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 26760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Ophelia and I exchanged a quick, worried glance.
“It won't take long,” the Emissary added.
Drawing a deep breath, I thought carefully about how to respond. Pissing one of these men off could have dire consequences. “Thank you for delivering the message, but we're in a bit of a hurry.”
There was a moment's pause, the silent weight of his gaze pressing on us. “Very well,” he said, stepping aside.
As we hurried away, the weight of the Emissary's gaze on my back was palpable. It felt like cold fingers tracing an invisible line down my spine.
I had encountered Emissaries before. They were the eyes and ears of the Triad Four that allowed themselves to be seen, unlike the leaders of the Cabals. They never let things go easily and were generally a pain in the ass, especially when they were on a mission. He’d allowed us to pass without any insistence.
I looked sideways at Ophelia, whose brows were furrowed in confusion, likely pondering the same anomaly. As we distanced ourselves, I couldn't help but sneak a glance back. I spotted him then, near a fleet of luxury vehicles on the far side of the plaza.
Riven Maelstrom.
A formidable figure in his own right, he stood surrounded by a small entourage. They were met by members of Antheia’s sector council, and even from a distance, the gravity of their conversation was clear, as was his aura of authority. He wasn’t paying us any attention now, but he’d clearly noticed our presence here.
Feeling a twist in my stomach, my mind raced back to that fateful night in the woods years ago.
I involuntarily scanned the group for any sign of his younger brother. To my relief, he wasn’t present. Even after all this time, the memory of our encounter and the revelations that followed were as clear as yesterday. I’d never told anyone about it except for Grandma, and she was no longer around to advise or give her thoughts on what just happened. There was no way a Maelstrom wanted to speak with us just for the hell of it. For that same reason, one wouldn’t have let us go if they felt the matter was urgent.
I kept my thoughts to myself, not wanting to alarm Ophelia, silently making a mental note to be on my guard. The Maelstroms and anyone associated with them were a web of intrigue and power plays. I had no intention of allowing me or my sister to be caught in their snares.
The gentle simmer of sauce mingled with the rhythmic chop of vegetables, filling the kitchen with a comforting cadence. As Ophelia finely grated a block of parmesan, I busied myself slicing fresh basil. Our mother expertly moved between the stove and the counter, layering sheets of pasta. Amid the culinary ballet, Amalthea lay in a corner, contentedly gnawing on a meaty bone, her ears perking up occasionally whenever Ophelia's voice rose in excitement.
“And then this Emissary came right up to us,” Ophelia explained, her tone hovering between amusement and incredulity. “But you know what was surprising? Riven himself was there and…” She trailed off and seemed to consider her words, “He’s gorgeous, to put it mildly. The screens do him no justice.”
“Riven Maelstrom?" Our mother stopped what she was doing, her gaze sharp and questioning. Her voice held an unmistakable edge, and her usually calm demeanor shifted to one of blatant unease.
Ophelia nodded slowly, picking up on our mother’s sudden change in mood. “Yeah, him.”
Mom’s expression darkened further. “You need to be careful. Both of you,” she warned, a hint of panic creeping into her voice. “Stay away from the plaza, at least for some time.”
Ophelia looked confused by the warning but wisely didn’t argue. The seriousness in Mom’s voice was not lost on either of us. I got the feeling her alarm ran deeper than our chance encounter. I caught her eyes darting toward a faded photograph of grandma on the fridge. Her smiling face, now faded with time, reminded me of the void she left behind.
I missed her more than I often allowed myself to admit. She’d returned the day after I’d gone out to search for her with Amalthea at her side and then disappeared again shortly before our move from the secluded cabin to Antheia, the second sector of Nixon City. Understandably, Mom had become a little prickly on certain topics of conversation ever since.
Ophelia changed the subject, and I focused on the task in front of me, my mind beginning to wander.
Everything had been so new and overwhelming when we left our cabin. The bustling pace of the city, the advanced technology, the myriad faces—it was a stark contrast to how I’d lived for half my life.
The memory of the man in the woods, with his imposing presence and intense eyes, was still fresh in my mind. I knew he was associated with the Triad, but the truth of his identity was something I learned much later, and it wasn’t from me seeking it out. One day, a propaganda reel had come on our Vistaview—a sleek, holographic television. His face had been unmistakably familiar. Realizing he was none other than the heir of the formidable Maelstrom family had been shocking. Their notoriety was no secret. The Triad Four were deities to the loyalists of not just Nixon City but across the nation.