Recent content by The Night Court

Agatha did not speak as the final strokes of ink dried beneath Balthazar’s hand. She had been watching him for some time—silent, still, not hidden, but present in that way only she could be: a shadow with weight, a breath before the blade. “Cartilage,” she said at last, her voice smooth but...

The knock on Balthazar’s door was soft—polite, deliberate. The kind that didn’t beg entry, but stated intent. A moment later, Agatha stepped inside, unannounced but not uninvited. She wore a travel cloak still dusted from Hulva’s streets, the color of wet ash and stormclouds, her gloves...

Agatha listened with the stillness of a blade just before the draw. She did not interrupt Balthazar—never did. Every word he spoke was measured, each one a stitch in a garment of truth she intended to wear to war. When he laid the folio before her, she didn’t touch it immediately. Instead, she...

Agatha took the scroll without a word, eyes tracing every inked line with the intensity of someone who’d memorized the bones of more cities than she could name aloud. The war room’s silence suited her—a silence shaped not by peace, but the hush before judgment. She set the scroll down...

Agatha watched Balthazar with the precision of a blade being drawn from its sheath—silent, steady, purposeful. His poise and manner were everything she expected of Marcus’ personal steward. She had heard of him in passing; not a whisper went unheard by that one, not a detail unpolished...

The first display came at dawn, quiet and unannounced. In the slums east of Adala’s outer wall, where the temples seldom gave alms and the council’s reach was weakest, a crowd had gathered before a small stone shrine. Word had spread overnight that a child, presumed to be dying of fever, had...

Gregory bowed deeply, absorbing the weight of Marcus’ words. The invitation was unexpected, yet the lack of emotion behind it was even more so. He had expected some flicker of intrigue or satisfaction—some indication of the King’s inner thoughts—but Marcus remained as composed as ever, his...

Gregory bowed deeply, absorbing the weight of Harrul’s words like a nail driven into steel. The king’s stance was clear—unyielding, sharp-edged, and dangerous to any who dared press too hard. The Red Mage did not flinch, nor did he rise to the bait. He knew his place, and he knew that in this...

Agatha barely remained upright, her body battered, her magic drained, but her spirit unbroken. The rain continued to fall, washing away the embers of destruction, though it did little to ease the ache in her bones. She had fought with everything she had, and yet, it had not been enough...

Caiden stood over the fallen troll, his blade dripping with the thick, blackened blood of the beast. His men roared in triumph, their bloodlust only heightened by the sight of their leader felling such a monstrous foe. But Caiden barely acknowledged their cheers—his mind was already on the next...

As the hobgoblin tribes poured in from the mountains and valleys, their war cries echoed across the battlefield. With them came their champions—battle-hardened warriors meant to turn the tide—and massive trolls, their hulking forms towering over the chaos. But as the monstrous reinforcements...

Nepheli stood firm at the helm, watching as the hobgoblins, in a last act of desperation, sent their smaller ships crashing into the Espadian vessels, attempting to force them into chaotic collisions. The maneuver was reckless, but she had anticipated their desperation. “Adjust course! Let them...

The southern border of Ali trembled under the weight of the advancing Night Court. The sky darkened as if in omen, the sun veiled by the looming presence of an army unlike any the hobgoblins had faced before. Vampires clad in crimson and black, ghouls with gnashing teeth and hollow eyes, red...

Caiden’s grin widened as he laid eyes on the hobgoblin tribesmen, their hulking forms and fierce war cries marking them as a greater challenge than the rabble they had just cut through. His blood-bound cultists, already drenched in the carnage of battle, let out guttural cheers of their own...

As the Alurmanat xebec ships retaliated, their sleek vessels darting into position to counter the Espadian assault, Lady Nepheli stood firm at the helm of her flagship. Her eyes gleamed with determination as she observed the chaos on the waves. The smaller, agile ships of the hobgoblins...