Alaric Steele: Crimson Veil 4

The faint hum of bioluminescent plants filled the quiet as Alaric strode into the Veil’s underground town, his heavy boots crunching against the uneven stone paths. The glowing moss and embedded crystals lit his path, their light reflecting faintly in the magma-like cracks across his skin, still faintly glowing from his tracking mission. The air was damp and cool, a sharp contrast to the ember-like heat radiating off his broad shoulders.

He’d spent weeks chasing the Bloodthorn troops who had dared to breach Aether City’s Verdant District, and their trail had led nowhere good. Now, back in the Veil’s territory, there was talk of a civilian—a newcomer—settling into the town. That in itself was strange. Sebastian didn’t often let outsiders linger for long unless they proved useful or... manageable.

“Who’s this person everyone’s whispering about?” Alaric asked as he approached Darius, one of the Veil's three leaders, who was leaning against the frame of a small house nestled at the edge of the settlement. The structure was simple, built into the carved-out stone, but well-maintained, with faint wisps of light spilling from its narrow windows.

Darius straightened, his arms crossing over his chest. “The one the Bloodthorns were after. Civilian, from the Verdant District. Fell into the tunnels during a collapse.”

Alaric’s amber eyes flickered with curiosity as he glanced toward the door. “And why are they still here? Sebastian doesn’t keep loose ends.”

“I made the call,” Darius said flatly. “They’re not a threat. Safer for them to stay here for now. The Bloodthorns saw them with me after I got them out of the tunnels and decided they were worth targeting.”

Alaric’s brow furrowed, his gaze narrowing. “So, they’re bait?”

Darius shook his head. “Not intentionally. The Bloodthorns’ interest makes them more dangerous on the surface than they are here. It’s been weeks, though. We’re finding them a job in town. They’ll contribute while we figure out what comes next.”

The faint sound of movement from inside the house drew Alaric’s attention. “And you trust them?”

Darius hesitated, his eyes hardening. “I trust that they’re in over their head. They didn’t ask for this.”

Alaric stepped closer to the door, tilting his head. “Still doesn’t explain why they matter so much. You don’t bring people back unless there’s something worth protecting.”

Darius’s lips tightened, his tone low. “Not everyone needs to be worth something to deserve a chance.”

The door creaked open. Alaric’s molten eyes studied the figure who appeared, his gaze steady and appraising. “So, you’re the one stirring up all the trouble,” he said, his voice deep and steady, though his Spanish accent softened the edges of his words. “The Bloodthorns don’t chase nobodies. What’s so special about you?”

Before any response came, Darius cut in, his tone firm. “Enough, Alaric. They’re not your concern.”

Alaric raised a brow, his expression unreadable. “If they’re in our town, they’re my concern. You know how Sebastian sees liabilities.”

Darius’s shoulders squared as he met Alaric’s gaze. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not Sebastian.”

Alaric’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t step away. Instead, he leaned against the frame of the doorway, crossing his arms as his molten eyes flicked back to the figure in front of him. The faint glow in his veins pulsed steadily, a quiet reminder of the heat he carried.

“You’re staying here, so we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” he said, his tone measured but heavy with unspoken questions. “Let’s hope Darius’s instincts are right.”