Shadows of the Past

The trouble came from an unexpected direction.

Elara was in the city, meeting with Soren—the Wraith, though he was less and less that terrifying figure now—to discuss the integration of Syndicate operatives into the new Twilight Guard. The former shadow network would not simply disappear; it needed to be redirected toward legitimate purposes.

She was walking back to the palace through the merchants' quarter when she felt it—a shadow presence she recognized. Not Soren. Someone else from her past.

She slipped into an alley, letting her Twilight senses expand, searching for the source. It found her instead.

"Hello, little shadow."

The voice came from behind her. She turned to find a woman leaning against the wall, cloaked in shadow-weave that shimmered like oil on water. Her face was familiar—older, harder, but unmistakable.

"Celene." Elara's hand went to her dagger. "I heard you died in the Darnassus job."

"Reports of my death were exaggerated. As they often are." Celene pushed off the wall, moving with the lethal grace Elara remembered. She had been Elara's trainer in assassination, a woman who combined maternal warmth with chilling brutality. "You have come up in the world, little one. Twilight Wielder. Royal consort. Quite the transformation."