Shadow Weaver: Sole Heir Of The Night-Chapter 192: plan

"One divine is enough to subjugate a planet no? Why all the long faces?"

Zekes voice echoed lightly against the stone walls, casual and almost amused, as though they were discussing a minor errand and not a descent into the darkest reaches of known space.

The hallway was narrow and unlit, built from obsidian stone that swallowed torchlight instead of reflecting it.

Shadows clung to the corners like living things, stretching and recoiling as armored boots struck the floor in steady rhythm.

A troop of armed guards surrounded Raven and the others, their spears humming faintly with restrained power.

No one spoke except the Marquee.

"Yes, a divine is typically able to subjugate a planet," he began, his tone measured, though the tension in his jaw betrayed him.

"However the coordinates of the Black Ice Lilly are almost always buried deep in corrupted space."

They passed beneath a vaulted arch carved with ancient runes, each symbol dimly glowing as they crossed.

The air grew colder with every step toward the distant light at the end of the corridor.

"That means we might be surrounded by planets already consumed," the Marquee continued.

"Worlds stripped of sunlight. Atmospheres twisted beyond recognition."

He exhaled slowly.

"We will need to refuel. We will need access to raw sunlight. And most of all, anything can go south."

His final words lingered in the air longer than they should have.

A planet surrounded on all sides by corruption, suspended in dark space like a forgotten relic.

That was not strategy. That was gambling with extinction.

Even the guards shifted uneasily.

Corrupted space was not merely darkness.

It was silence that pressed against the mind, a void that swallowed divine senses and bent light into unnatural shapes.

Many divines who ventured too far returned altered.

Some did not return at all.

"Maybe I should contact your father," the Marquee muttered as the hallway began to brighten.

"He might be able to influence things from his end."

Frustration creased his brow.

He had seen wars. He had commanded armies.

But even he did not wish to sail into the throat of corruption without preparation.

"It’s fine," Raven replied, her tone almost bored as the light spilled over them.

"Give it a few days. We will take any random divine being you can find."

She stepped into the open air beyond the corridor.

"Oh, and get me someone with a strong concealment ability. That will be good."

The floating jet hovered above the marble courtyard, its surface gleaming like liquid silver under the sun.

Energy rippled beneath its hull in quiet waves.

One after the other, they boarded.

The palace loomed behind them, white towers piercing the sky, banners fluttering in calm wind that felt undeservedly peaceful.

They had survived the Under Dark.

They had walked through caverns where even sound refused to travel.

They had fought creatures born from the bones of dead stars.

This would not be so much harder.

That was what Raven told herself.

Of course she was not reckless.

There was a flicker in her eyes as she stepped onto the jet, something sharp and calculating beneath the surface calm.

She had a plan.

Or more precisely, Enzo had a plan.

And Enzo’s plans rarely relied on brute force alone.

"Okay leader," the Marquee said quietly, though worry still lingered in his voice.

Raven was not suicidal.

If she moved forward, it meant she saw something the rest of them did not.

Perhaps her father had given her something hidden.

A relic. A safeguard.

Or perhaps she was gambling on something else entirely.

He did not know.

The jet’s engines hummed louder, vibrations coursing through the deck beneath their feet.

"Let’s move," Raven said softly.

The craft lifted from the courtyard with effortless grace, rising above the palace walls.

The guards watched in silence as it ascended.

Higher.

Then it shot forward, slicing through the sky and leaving the safety of the palace behind, heading toward a stretch of space where light itself feared to linger.

Some time later, far beyond the safe glow of the palace territories, space rippled.

A thin fracture opened across the void, red light spilling through like blood through torn silk.

From that wound stepped a figure cloaked in a flowing crimson gown, her presence silent yet suffocating.

She did not ride a vessel. She did not disturb the stars.

She simply walked.

It was the High God.

Her veil fluttered though there was no wind in space, her eyes half lidded as she traced the faint residue left behind by the jet.

Divine engines always left scars in the fabric of reality.

She followed those scars effortlessly.

She had felt something in the Under Dark.

A disturbance. A flare of power that did not belong.

It had slipped through her senses like smoke through fingers.

She suspected them.

But suspicion was not proof.

And the High God despised uncertainty more than rebellion.

If she could not force the truth out in the light, she would herd them into darkness.

Corrupted space was patient.

Corrupted space devoured.

If they possessed some hidden method of survival, some artifact or forbidden aid that had allowed them to escape the Under Dark, it would reveal itself when pressed hard enough.

And if they died in the process.

She did not particularly care.

Even among her children, survival was merely a privilege, not a right.

Her lips curved faintly as she stepped again through space, closing the distance without being seen.

Of course, even now, she did not realize that another gaze lingered upon her.

"She’s following us," Enzo said lightly, leaning back as if discussing the weather.

"What do we do?"

He was smiling.

The atmosphere inside the jet was anything but relaxed.

A High God trailing them through the void was not a minor inconvenience.

It was catastrophe.

Minister Fin sat stiffly, fingers digging into his robes as sweat gathered along his temple.

These children truly had no idea how close they were to annihilation.

Ignorance.

How he envied it.

If he could peel away his own understanding of divine hierarchies, of how effortlessly a High God could erase them, perhaps he would sleep better.

Perhaps he would breathe easier.

He almost laughed.

Just keep ignoring her, she’ll get bored soon enough, Raven replied calmly.

Her tone did not waver.

She did not even glance back.

This woman was not a stranger to her.

She knew the cadence of her cruelty, the rhythm of her patience.

She had endured months beneath her gaze.

Months of cold questions and colder punishments.

Raven knew which threads to tug.

In five miles, turn around and head toward the outskirts. She hates that place.

The pilot did not question her.

The jet shifted direction instantly, engines flaring as they veered away from the main routes and toward a region most divine vessels avoided.

The outskirts.

Even from a distance, it looked diseased.

Clusters of wooden structures clung together like rotting teeth, metal sheets patched into walls that had long ago surrendered to rust.

The air was thick with industrial smoke and the scent of neglect.

Dim lights flickered from broken windows.

No marble towers.

No divine gardens.

Only cramped alleys and uneven streets where forgotten beings survived beneath the notice of heaven.

The moment the High God’s gaze fell upon it, her expression tightened.

Disgust rippled across her flawless features.

The outskirts were an eyesore on her perfect dominion.

A stain she tolerated only because erasing it required effort.

Still, her presence did not retreat.

Annoyance was not enough to deter her curiosity.

She hovered above the settlement, red gown drifting like a wound against the gray sky, watching.

Waiting.

Her patience, though thin, had not yet broken.

Soon the jet began its descent, engines dimming as it lowered into the cramped maze of the outskirts.

Dust spiraled beneath it, scattering across crooked rooftops and broken signboards.

They landed near the same tavern they had once used as shelter, its wooden walls warped with age, its hanging lantern swaying weakly in the polluted breeze.

"This is the place," Enzo said with a grin as he stepped down from the jet.

Boots touched uneven stone.

The moment they appeared, the street froze.

Conversations died mid sentence.

Vendors paused with coins still between their fingers.

Eyes widened as they took in the gleaming hull of the jet, the faint aura clinging to its passengers.

"Rich tycoon?"

Someone whispered it first.

"Now that’s a beauty."

A woman leaned from a cracked window, staring openly at Raven.

"Hmm, is that the royal seal?"

The words spread like wildfire.

Murmurs overlapped, rising into a low hum of speculation.

Some pointed at the insignia etched faintly along the side of the craft.

Others stared at the guards’ weapons with poorly concealed hunger.

Children edged closer, only to be pulled back by anxious hands.

The scent of cheap ale and burnt oil lingered thick in the air.

Rust stained nearly every metal surface.

Laundry hung from sagging lines between buildings, brushing against divine robes as they passed.

Yet despite the grime and crowding, there was life here.

Raw and unfiltered.

Up until the moment they reached the tavern doors, words followed them.

Questions.

Rumors.

Wild guesses about status and purpose.

But beyond the noise, beyond mortal sight, another presence lingered.

Standing in plain view above the crooked rooftops.

Where everyone could see.

Yet no one truly saw.

The High God.

Her crimson gown flowed softly around her unmoving figure, untouched by the soot filled wind.

Her golden eyes narrowed as she observed the filthy streets below.

Cracked stone.

Peeling paint.

Mortals brushing past divinity without understanding what walked among them.

Her lip curled slightly.

"Dirty mortals," she muttered, the words dissolving into the air before they could reach human ears.

Disgust flickered across her face.

Not fear.

Not hesitation.

Just disdain.

And still, she watched.