Shadow Touched (Editing)

33. NAIMA

17 May—

Something is amiss. The news out of Aspus—it's put me on edge. Rumours swirl about Lord Solditch, his Keep, and its goings-on. The signs, so many of them, all point to one thing. The Gloaming is here.

I have tried to tell Vincent—he seems reticent to believe me. Peace, after all, is an alluring mistress.

He cautioned me against sharing my concerns beyond our private discussions. It's not like him to silence me. He went a step further, telling me I was to leave Solditch alone. Solditch is the same man who has questioned Vincent's right to rule. It makes no sense.

I have always respected his decision as sovereign. I have backed him all these years because, in private, he has always heeded my council. When young Finch Stewart broached me about the gossip, he was concerned by a disturbing story he heard in Varran City about a once docile family pet that had seemingly turned on its family overnight, mauling the youngest. The story and the concern on his face made it clear that, for the first time in 25 years, I would not heed Vincent's words.

Ignoring his command brought me no pleasure, but I was certain of the trouble on the horizon. I needed to confirm it before pursuing the matter further. I sent Finch to Aspus to observe the Keep. The boy is keen to prove himself.

He showed no surprise when I made my request. I did not need to press upon him the seriousness—nor the secrecy—surrounding the order. I worried only briefly about the danger I might be sending him into. He seemed to sense my concern, assuring me he was more than capable. He's right. He has an uncanny ability to find out things. His size belies this fact. But, young Finch can make himself near invisible should he choose to. I've watched him in battle practice; big, fast, and strong, he manages to end up in the most unexpected place to strike down his opponent. He'd make an excellent spy.

The report Finch provided has left me with no uncertainty about the Gloaming:

Once lush with green forest, Aspus's lands are now littered with swaths of dying trees, brown grass and rotting plants covered in inch-thick frost, though it is mid-May.

Finch himself seemed disturbed by what he saw, a fact that unnerves me to no end. Though easygoing and relaxed, the young man is hard to read and never flinches. I've seen him stand down men wielding vicious weapons without blinking. Yet, he described the frigid cold and eerie quiet as leaving him with an overwhelming sense of impending doom.

Most notably, he mentioned in vivid detail the skies above the Keep, darkened by cloud cover. He claimed they were filled with charcoal grey smoke that ebbed and flowed as bursts of lightning tore through them. That smoke he spoke of was no smoke at all but rather Shadows. It's the Obscuring—the excess essence the Shadowed cannot contain.

The Obscuring is tied closely to the Source; these signs, Solditch's emboldened behaviour, say all I need to know—he is the Source. He wields the Gloaming. And he plans to use it to take the throne.

— The Private Journal of General Roman Delumine

~*~

"...and the great man he truly was."

I smile politely at the old lady who stands before me. She's been prattling on about my father's greatness for fifteen minutes. Thanking me profusely for his dedication to Athecca and his great sacrifice during the last Gloaming. Her wrinkled face and deep-set eyes run across my face as she extols his many virtues. I've barely been listening, more enthralled by her heavy jowls and how they flutter as she speaks, her hands gesticulating wildly. The shawl she wears carelessly thrown over her shoulders emits an acrid smell that can best be described as old.