Chapter 47: Darkness, Mother of Fear
“Won’t the Moonswallow Mist take control of you?” Lilith’s voice held a thorn of mistrust. It wasn’t that the Little White Dragon refused to believe a Wraith wearing a normal human guise. It was those eyes—ghost‑blue fire burning too bright, like Lord Eternal Life speaking through a puppet drenched in mist.
“Of course not.” Arika shook her head. Her smile was steady, bright with faith. “When we thought we could command the Moonswallow Mist, it was Lord Eternal Life who revealed the Undead’s arrogance. The gods are merciful, always. He didn’t punish our insolence. He rewarded us—He bestowed the Moonswallow Mist.”
She lifted her hands as if lifting a night sky. “It sharpened the wraiths’ keen minds and magic. The skeletons, the zombies, the lesser wraiths—mindless dolls, stripped of reason.”
“How exquisite.” Arika stood. She spread her arms like wings in black wind. “No more suffering fools—no more clattering bones. Every inch of soil, every strip of blackened air in the Grand Mausoleum serves our research. Everyone can devote themselves to the roots of dark magic, and give strength to Lord Eternal Life’s design. What’s lovelier than that?”
Her voice turned derisive, like frost on iron. “And that irresponsible king and his little daughter threw the Mausoleum’s gates wide, invited outsiders in, and tried to ruin His plan. Laughable.”
Lilith held her tongue; wariness pricked like thorns. The Little White Dragon couldn’t find a way to answer Arika’s giddy, storm‑bright zeal. It felt like standing in a field where the mist had carved commandments into stone.
Even if this Wraith wasn’t fully seized by the Moonswallow Mist, the air itself had altered her. The fog had written a catechism into her mind: trust Lord Eternal Life, serve Lord Eternal Life. Whispered, then hammered, like rain turning to hail.
Lilith knew real talk was impossible. Still, she’d squeeze what she could from this stone, see if any water ran out.
“The king and the princess—his daughter. What happened to them?” The Little White Dragon’s curiosity pricked like chimes in wind. Nidhogg had told her the Grand Mausoleum sent a distress call to the Adventurers’ Guild before the Undead were fully taken. If they lit the first signal fire, what was their fate now?
“The addled old king went mad once the Moonswallow Mist was lifted from him.” Arika’s tone was casual, like dropping ash. “We bound him in the lowest dungeon of the Grand Mausoleum. It used to hold criminals who attacked the royal blood. It suits him.”
“As for his little daughter—our unacknowledged princess—she tried to resist. Her magic was fierce; she slipped the net, climbed to the upper levels, and met a party of outsiders. She meant to leave with them.”
Arika’s smile was a knife’s sliver. “Sadly for them, Lord Eternal Life crushed that party like dry leaves. The foolish woman was stripped of her title. Her soul was shoved into a crystal and stored in the royal dungeon, per the penalty for treason.”
“The outsiders kept fighting. In the end, all but their captain were slain by Lord Eternal Life. The captain couldn’t withstand the high concentration of Moonswallow Mist and now serves as Lord Eternal Life’s most beloved little hound.” She glanced at her nails, moon‑pale and cruel. “Flesh is fragile.”
“Yikes. That’s rough.” Lilith muttered, soft as moss. The princess and the king were tragic—betrayed by their own, unlucky enough to meet heroes who were ground to dust.
As for that wiped‑out team, the Little White Dragon could guess the face behind the mask—a certain big snow‑white fox. Lilith had left a bit of Taint on Miss Zhen Bai. Maybe the fox would matter later, when they faced Eternal Life beneath a sky of broken stars.
And that poor princess—Lilith wanted to hunt down the crystal that held her soul and find a way to free it. As for the other royals in chains, she hoped the Moonswallow Mist hadn’t taken them. Allies were stones in the wall. More stones, stronger wall.
“My story’s done, Miss Lilith. Won’t you introduce yourself?” Arika clapped once, sharp as flint on steel, snapping the Little White Dragon from her thoughts.
Lilith lifted her head. Her eyes were clear as winter springs. She stared, blank, at the Undead Wraith; question marks practically floated above her like drifting lanterns.
“Me? I’m just a little dragon from outside. No big secrets like yours.” She paused, a pebble dropping in her chest. “Hold on.”
“Other than your name—Arika—I don’t know anything about you. What kind of ‘introduction’ was that?” Her gaze sharpened like a drawn blade. “You trying to fish my info, you sneak?”
“How could I?” Arika’s eyes slid aside, guilt flickering like a moth in lamplight. The Little White Dragon glared, hot as noon. Arika cleared her throat. Awkwardness hung like fog. “Fine. Ask what you want.”
“I know you’re a Wraith. But which kind?” Lilith asked, steady as rain. “Like how skeletons have field hands and knight‑types. Wraiths must have ranks.”
“Of course, Miss Lilith. You guessed right.” Arika nodded, pride rising like smoke. “I’m among the strongest of the Wraith. Lord Eternal Life granted me a great and noble name—”
“The Gaze of Darkness.” Arika’s voice went cold. It detonated in Lilith’s ear like thunder trapped in a bell.
The Little White Dragon bristled; nerves tightened like bowstrings. Then her vision went ink‑black, a night with no moon. Only a small window of the world remained clear ahead.
“In my darkness, you’ll see what you fear most.” The Gaze of Darkness spoke with laughter you couldn’t bury, like water springing through stone. An unseen Wraith leaned close to Lilith’s ear, grinning. “Come. Show me your deepest fear.”
Lilith swallowed. The Little White Dragon took one step forward, each breath a snowflake melting on the tongue.
The rim of darkness brightened, a dim halo like dawn through smoke. A blood‑soaked figure lay before her, red dripping like rusted rain.
Lilith forced her fear down, a bird crushed gently in the hands. She knelt by the fallen shape and turned the face over, slow as lifting a veil.
Blood and grime masked the features, a tide of scarlet hiding what was human.
But Lilith still knew.
It was Nidhogg.
