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Once she was inside, she closed the door behind her. Then she promptly knocked her ankles together, clasped her hands behind her back, rolled back her shoulders, and lifted her chin. She stood at the ready, waiting for Wren to start the conversation.

The room was bleak, made completely of stone and the rare marble that had been found when they’d carved into the mountainside. It was dimly lit. Wren rarely used more than a handful of candles – just enough to allow her to see their plans on the table, but not enough for others to steer their footing around the furniture.

Wren was under the belief that they should all be able to see in the dark, just like their formidable enemy.

The Head Elder stood at a rectangular, glassless, waist-high window that spanned the entire left-to-right curved section of that wall. Standing similarly to Emerie, she looked out over the entirety of the fortress like she was a hawk searching for its next prey.

Her hands were loosely clasped behind her back. Emerie’s were stiff, as though having just a muscle out of place could be taken disrespectfully.

There was no one else in the room with them, and the silence Wren forced upon them was long and uncomfortable. Especially with the waning, near-full moon highlighting her silhouette and casting a dark shadow over her.

“You are among the few who are an expert with a whip,” Wren factually stated without turning. “It’s not an easy tool to master.”

Emerie’s gaze darted down to the whip coiled neatly at the woman’s hip. It was different than the generic version that other guildmembers were given, as it had a singular thread of blue within its plait.

When Wren dipped her head ever so slightly to peer at Emerie from the corner of her eye, she stiffened further.

“That is correct,” she answered, despite having not been asked a question.

“You are to join the team of Elders who are currently readying themselves on the floor below. You will join them outside of the gates.”

Her brows twitched to knot, but she quickly managed to stop her confusion from fully forming.I don’t understand.She nodded, before stepping back to do as she was told.

“Halt.”

Emerie stood straight once more.

Shit.Wren had noticed her facial twitch, and her hawk-like gaze pierced all the way to Emerie’s centre as she examined her.

Her feet were silent as she drew away from the window to fully face Emerie, and a mirror threatened to stare back at her. They had no blood relation, as made apparent by the fact that Wren was much paler than her and lacked that scattering of freckles. She also had dark chestnut hair in comparison to Emerie’s usual orange nest of knots, but much about them was the same.

Their blue eyes were similar, their busty statures were the same, and even the scarring on their faces mirrored each other’s.

It’d always been difficult for Emerie to look at the impression of her own appearance on Wren. From her forehead, down the right side of her face, all the way down to the visible part of her neck, Wren had the webbing evidence of a burn scar. Emerie’s was on the left and was almost identical; both of their scarring showing signs of going lower down their bodies.

Even the singular claw mark splitting their bottom lip was the same, just on opposing sides.

For the longest time, Emerie had wondered if that was the reason the Head Elder had taken an interest in her. Given that they were also both excellent whip bearers, obedient, and outwardly cold – although that was a farce on Emerie’s part – it was like she was looking at an older version of herself.

Did Wren feel the same way, just in reverse?

There had been whispers that Wren was looking into her replacement, who would train under her until her death or when she stepped down. She was egotistical and political; it wouldn’t be an unjustified assumption that Wren would replace herself with a potential younger version.

“I give you the freedom to speak.” There was a calculating glint to her icy-blue eyes.

“I don’t mean to be disobedient, Head Elder, but whip bearers are rarely needed on invasions. The best tool to use at the fortress is a spear, and we have the advantage of having a large number of soldiers and a wall. Whereas a sword is for ease of movement on assignments, and whips are usually a last resort against Demons.”

“Usually you would be correct,” the woman answered, before drifting back to the gaping window. Rain began to pitter-patter against the ledge softly, but loud enough to echo. As if to punctuate her next words, a beastly roar faintly thundered in the distance. “However, our foe is not a Demon.”

If it’s not a Demon...And sincethatsound definitely couldn’t belong to a human bandit, that meant...

Her lips tightened, not in fear but in realisation.

Lightning struck within the grey clouds.

A Duskwalker.

“The fight has begun.” Wren’s face hardened. “Someone made a foolish mistake.” When Emerie made no comment, choosing not to interrupt the woman’s musings, Wren eventually chuckled. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve sent your companion to be fodder.”