Viktor's Wrath

The silence after the puppet's collapse clung to the basement. No one moved. The flickering lantern cast long, unsteady shadows across the wall, and the room felt colder than before, as if the voice that had spoken through the puppet had taken something with it.

Kaavi's gaze fixed on the slumped figure strapped to the chair. The body bore no trace of what had just happened. Just a lifeless husk. But the echo of the voice lingred in the room like smoke.

Joren was first to speak, "that voice... it knew your name."

Kaavi took a slow breath, his fingers brushing the side of the dead man's face. Cold. Hollow. Whatever conduit had been there was now severed.

Kaavi murmured. "He was only a vessel."

"To what?" Viktor asked, his voice low but steady. There was no panic in him... just awareness.

Kaavi's eyes didn't leave the corpse. "To the one who made him. Or controlled him."

Corren's brow furrowed. "So, were we being watched through? The whole time?"

Kaavi turned and looks towards Corren. "I don't think so. Maybe when I removed the barriers placed on his mind, I think that is when he/she noticed and reacted."

A pause passed, broken only by the crackle of the lantern.

Joren shifted his weight. "You think they know where we are now?"

Kaavi shook his head slowly. "No. I was careful. When I sensed his mind was tampered with, I stripped away the barriers before going deeper so they couldn't trace the connection back to us."

"Then how did they still speak through him?" Veyl asked, her arms folded tightly.

Kaavi stepped back from the chair; his voice low. "I don't know for certain. But removing those wards may have triggered something like a failsafe. A warning that one of their tools was tampered with."

Corren muttered, "So we poked the bear."

Kaavi didn't respond right away. His eyes lingered on the body its jaw slack, the eyes glassy and unfocused.

Gavril ran a hand through his hair. "That voice... it knew your name. 'Found you, Kaavi.' What does that mean? You knew him?"

Kaavi turned toward them. His expression was firm, unreadable. "I've never heard that voice before."

Silence held in the room a moment longer before he added, "But he knew me."

Viktor's eyes narrowed slightly. "How?"

Kaavi looked at his grandson, then at the rest of the Hollow Swords. His voice dropped, quieter now, not secretive, but personal.

"My daughter and her husband… they were murdered four months ago. Ambushed. Too clean. Too planned. I was supposed to be there with them, but I wasn't."

He glanced at the puppet again, then exhaled slowly.

"Maybe they were looking for me. Maybe this man…whoever he is…is tied to the ones who killed them. Maybe to the Maw itself."

Joren crossed his arms, uneasy. "You think this thing…the Maw…is after you?"

Kaavi gave a slight nod. "Yes, the attacks on us are not random, they are searching for us and after this incident we know they are also expanding their reach and territory, I don't know what is their objective is for doing all this."

Veyl's voice was quiet. "So, this wasn't coincidence."

"No," Kaavi said. "They're moving. And we're only seeing the edges."

Gavril's eyes darkened. "What do we do with that body?"

Joren stepped away. "Burn it. Whatever was inside him, it's gone but I won't risk it coming back."

Corren was already moving, wordlessly fetching kindling from the supply crate in the corner.

Viktor remained where he stood, watching his grandfather carefully. "Are we in danger now?"

Kaavi met his eyes. "We've always been in danger. But now we know who is behind all this."

There was no bravado in his tone. Just clarity.

As Corren sparked the flame and the others moved to gather their gear, a heavy silence hung over them not born of fear, but understanding. They had touched something larger. A thread that pulled at old wounds and deeper enemies.

And somewhere beyond the snow and stone, something had noticed.

Something with eyes.

Somewhere Far from Branwyke

A man sat in stillness, surrounded by nothing but frost and candlelight. His face was concealed behind a smooth mask, carved from pale white bone. Around him, five more husks stood motionless, their eyes closed.

One of them twitched.

The man tilted his head and smiled...slow, silent, knowing.

Then he spoke into the air, not expecting a reply.

"They're paying attention now."

He raised one hand, and the twitching stopped.

"But not enough."