Chapter 92: Code Of Silence
The end hills of Garam stretched endlessly, as they climb down and approach the river bank of sile. Their slopes draped in gold as the morning sun filtered through thinning clouds.
The air was sharp, carrying the scent of leaves turning brittle with the season’s change.
Donato adjusted the strap of his leather bag, the weight of his father’s last command pressing against his shoulders heavier than the wounds still healing beneath his clothes.
His eyes once restless with rebellion had sharpened into something else entirely.
A purpose, and a destiny he had not asked for, yet one he could no longer refuse.
Princess Elowen walked at his side, her cloak brushing the dust, her gaze steady and unreadable.
She carried herself with quiet majesty, but there was a fire in her eyes that had nothing to do with royal blood, it was the fire of someone who had lost, someone who had chosen not to be broken by loss.
Trailing just behind them, Jackson struggled to keep pace.
His breaths came hard, sweat dampened his brow, but his eyes shone with boyish determination.
The bundle on his back looked almost comical compared to Donato’s hardened stride and Elowen’s effortless grace, but he refused to falter.
It was Jackson who broke the silence first.
"So..." he panted, brushing a hand across his damp forehead. "What exactly are we expecting to find at this... River Sile? A chest floating in the water? A book stuck in a tree?"
Donato’s lips pressed into a thin line. "It isn’t the river itself that matters. My father told me the black book seeks refuge there when it escapes unworthy hands. If it isn’t there, then... perhaps it never will be again."
Elowen’s voice was soft but strong. "You speak of it as though it breathes."
Donato slowed, his eyes darkening. "It does. My father said it was not written... It was born. Torn from heaven or hell, I cannot say, But it remembers its masters. It chooses them. And it destroys them."
Jackson swallowed hard, his earlier bravado faltering. "Then why are we even going after it? Sounds like a curse more than a treasure."
Donato glanced at him, his gaze softening for the first time that morning. "Because if it falls into the wrong hands, it won’t just destroy its master, it will destroy us all."
The words fell heavy, silencing them again as their footsteps crunched over dried leaves.
*******
By midday, they had reached the valley floor, where the trees grew denser, their shadows crawling like fingers across the path.
The River Sile was said to lie at the heart of this forest, its waters older than kingdoms, carrying whispers of the ancients in its currents.
Princess Elowen drew her cloak tighter, her eyes scanning the trees. "We’re being followed."
Donato had sensed it too, the subtle crunch of a branch where no step should be, the faint breath of air that was not theirs. His hand brushed against the hilt of his knife, his jaw tight.
"Keep walking," he murmured. "If they want to reveal themselves, they will."
Jackson’s fingers twitched nervously at his sides. "And if they don’t?"
Donato’s voice hardened, a steel edge cutting through his calm. "Then we will drag them out of the shadows ourselves."
The forest thickened, light breaking through only in scattered shards. The air grew damp, heavy, and the distant sound of water lapping against stone began to rise. The River Sile was near.
And then....
"Wait." Princess elowen stopped suddenly, her arm shooting out to block Donato’s path.
He froze. Her eyes flicked toward the ground where a circle of symbols had been carved into the soil, hidden beneath leaves.
They glowed faintly, the light sickly and green.
Jackson stumbled back, his eyes wide. "What in God’s name.... ?"
Elowen’s lips pressed into a firm line. "Warding sigils, old one.
This is no mere forest trap. Someone has marked this place with magic."
Donato crouched, brushing his fingers across the edges of the circle.
A shiver traveled up his arm, as though the ground itself resisted his touch.
"This isn’t Atlans work," he muttered. "This is older.... Much older."
Elowen nodded grimly. "The River is close. And someone doesn’t want us to reach it."
Before Donato could reply, the air shifted.
A rustle tore through the trees, followed by the thud of footsteps.. fast, heavy, circling. Shadows darted between the trunks, too quick to catch fully in sight.
Jackson’s voice cracked. "Please tell me those are deer."
But Donato was already on his feet, his knife gleaming, his stance sharp and ready. "Deer don’t stalk their prey."
The forest erupted.
Figures cloaked in black poured from the shadows, their faces masked, blades flashing in the fractured light. Atlans.
Donato shoved Jackson back, his knife meeting steel with a furious ring. Sparks flew as he twisted, slicing one man across the arm before pivoting to block another strike.
Princess elowen’s bow sang, arrow after arrow slicing the air with deadly precision. Each shot struck true, her aim as steady as her heartbeat.
Jackson, wide-eyed, scrambled to pick up a fallen branch, wielding it like a sword.
He swung clumsily at the nearest attacker, yelping when his strike actually connected and sent the man stumbling back.
"Go back to your parents, I said earlier," Donato growled, shoving another attacker away with brutal force. "But no, you had to prove yourself.."
Jackson swung again, barely ducking a blade aimed for his throat. "you didn’t think i would let you die without me? Forget it.. "
The boy’s words, desperate and fierce, lit something in Donato’s chest even as he fought.
The little boy had courage - foolish, reckless courage but courage all the same.
Minutes stretched into a blur of steel and blood.
Donato moved like a man possessed, his wounds reopening, blood seeping through his shirt, but he didn’t falter.
Every strike was precise, merciless, as though his father’s spirit guided his hand.
And then, as suddenly as it began, silence fell.
The remaining Atlans melted back into the shadows, retreating, leaving only the fallen scattered across the forest floor.
Donato’s chest heaved, his knife dripping red, his body trembling from exertion.
Princess Elowen lowered her bow slowly, her face pale but composed.
Jackson leaned against a tree, panting, his makeshift weapon snapped in half.
His cheeks flushed with both fear and exhilaration. "We... we survived that?"
Donato’s gaze swept the carnage, his jaw tightening. "No. They let us live."
Elowen’s head snapped toward him. "Why?"
Donato’s eyes darkened, the answer chilling his blood.
"Because they know where we’re going. And they want us to lead them to it."
And when they finally reached the River Sile, it was near dusk.
The river stretched wide and endless, its waters black as obsidian, reflecting no light, swallowing everything into its depths.
It was silent... too silent. No birds, no wind, only the slow, steady pulse of water moving against stone.
Jackson shivered. "This doesn’t feel right."
Elowen’s voice was a whisper. "It feels... waiting."
Donato stepped forward, his boots sinking into the wet earth at the river’s edge.
His father’s words echoed in his mind: "When the black book escapes unworthy hands, it seeks refuge here".
His hand trembled as he knelt, dipping his fingers into the icy water.
A shock traveled up his arm, his heart jolting. The river whispered low, haunting, like a thousand voices speaking at once.
He gasped, jerking his hand back, but not before he saw it.
A shape beneath the water.
A book.
Black, pulsing faintly with veins of crimson, as though it breathed.
Elowen’s breath caught, her eyes wide with awe and fear. "The book..."
Jackson stumbled forward, peering over Donato’s shoulder. "Is that really it? Just lying there?"
But Donato’s chest tightened. The book wasn’t just lying there.
It was waiting.
And as the last rays of sunlight died, the water around the book began to ripple.
Figures rose from the river, their bodies carved of shadow, their eyes hollow, their voices whispering his name.
Donato staggered back, his knife trembling in his grip.
Elowen’s hand seized his wrist, grounding him. Her eyes locked with his, steady, fierce.
"This is what they will love to read," she whispered not as prophecy, but as truth. "Not just your fight, Donato. But your choice. Do you claim it? Or does it claim you?"
The black book pulsed again, its glow spreading across the river like blood.
And Donato knew whatever choice he made here would change not just his fate, but Alessia’s, Luca’s, and the morano empire itself.
The shadows closed in.
And the river whispered.
Choose...
********
Across the sea, beneath the torches of the Atlan chamber, the master leaned forward, a cruel smile twisting his lips as he felt the ripple of Alessia’s fear echo through the unseen tether.
Seraphina stood at his side, her eyes blazing.
"She feels it," the master murmured, his beard catching the firelight. "The illusions slip into her veins like poison. Soon she won’t know if she is Alessia... or the queen we whisper her into becoming."
Seraphina’s smile curved sharp, triumphant. "And when she breaks?"
The master’s laughter was a slow, terrible rumble.
"Luca will break with her. That is the moment we strike. The empire will crumble from the inside....."
*******
Back in the Morano estate, In Luca and Alessia’s room.
The voice stretched again, low and dreadful, scraping through the silence like nails over glass.
"A-l-e-s-s-i-aaaaa..."
It lingered too long on her name, as if savoring it, a predator rolling its prey’s scent across its tongue.
Alessia’s nails dug into Luca’s thigh, her trembling fingers clutching him like he was the last anchor to the real world.
Her throat was dry, her body rigid, but her heart thundered loud enough to rattle her ribs.
Luca’s chest rose and fell, slower than her panic, steady with a man’s deadly calm.
His hand slid toward the drawer, and she saw the faint gleam of metal when his gun caught a slice of moonlight.
He leaned close, his lips brushing her temple, his whisper threaded with fire.
"Stay behind me, amore. Nothing touches you. Not while I’m breathing."
But Alessia shook her head, fear breaking her voice into fragments.
"No, Luca.... don’t open it. Please. If you open that door..." Her eyes flicked toward the dark wood, the voice still curling from behind it. "...if you open it, I may lose you. I sense it."
He caught her chin, forcing her to look into him, into the storm-dark certainty of his gaze.
"You will never lose me." His thumb brushed her trembling lips, steady, firm. "Understand this, if hell itself stands outside that door, then hell will bow tonight."
The words burned with his unyielding pride, the kind of vow that carved itself into her soul.
But Alessia’s body shook harder, a tremor running through her veins as she whispered, "It isn’t hell I’m afraid of, It’s me. It’s what waits for me out there... it’s her. Luca, I saw her. She touched me with a wrinkled hands, she lay besides.. I hit her with the pillow not you,, everything seems it was hallucination but I wasn’t hallucinating i knew it was all real ."
Her voice cracked, and the memory seared her again of the wrinkled hand trailing across her thigh, the whisper calling her queen.
Luca’s expression hardened, rage flashing across his face like a blade catching light.
He cupped her cheeks, his bandaged chest straining as he pulled her closer, his lips pressing to her forehead with a fierce, trembling reverence.
"Listen to me," he murmured, voice low, his breath warm against her skin. "You are mine My Alessia. No ghost, no shadow, no cursed wrinkled woman from hell can ever take you from me. Do you hear me? You belong to me."
Her heart stuttered, torn between fear and love, drowning in both.
And still, the voice returned. Louder. Closer.
"A-l-e-s-s-i-aaaaa..."
This time, the doorknob rattled.
The sound was small, but in the heavy silence of the room, it was thunder.
Alessia’s breath caught. Luca’s gun was already in his grip, his other arm sweeping her behind him as he rose from the bed with predatory precision.
His frame was tall, commanding, every line of him a promise of death to whatever dared touch her.
The knob twisted again.
And then silence.... Too much silence.
Alessia’s trembling worsened, her teeth pressing into her lip until the metallic taste of blood hit her tongue.
Luca’s hand brushed against hers just once an unspoken vow before he stepped toward the door.
"Luca.... " she pleaded, her voice raw. "If you open it, I may lose you. Please..."
He glanced back, his eyes locking onto hers, darker than night, steadier than breath.
"You will never lose me, my amore. Even if death itself waits on the other side, it will leave without victory."
The words were his oath.
And then, with one swift motion, he flung the door wide open.....