CHAPTER 37: THE CODED WARNING

The night had deepened, shadows pooling thickly against the high arches of the chamber. The fire had burned low, its glow painting restless shapes across the shelves and stone walls.

Anneliese sat across from Vincenzo, the wide study table stretching between them. The silence was heavy, as if the chamber itself were holding its breath. Her thoughts churned, still reeling from everything she had learned tonight—the Book, the anchor, her place in all of it, and the mystifying way the House Leader had managed to contact the Dark Witches.

For a long while, only the rush of wind against the tall windows broke the stillness. Then, confusion furrowed her brows, tightening her voice as she gave her thoughts shape.

"How did he... I mean, the House Leader get in touch with the Dark Witches in the first place? As far as I know, not even the High Conclave can reach them!"

A shadow passed over Vincenzo’s eyes as he leaned back in his chair. "The Ashenveil family lineage is older than most care to remember—older even than the Conclave itself. Their archives hold knowledge that should have been buried centuries ago: rites, signals, chants meant only for the Dark Witches. Naturally, he learned how to call them from there."

Firelight cut sharp lines across his jaw as his voice dropped, laced with disdain. "But knowledge is never enough. The Dark Witches do not answer to authority or heritage. They answer to hunger. So he gave them what they wanted most—he let them open a portal. A doorway into our world. That was his bargain."

Anneliese’s lips parted, but no words came. She had already known about the portal, but hearing the steps that led to it—the secret rites, the ancient knowledge buried in his family’s vaults—made her skin crawl. It wasn’t chance, or desperation. It was deliberate. Calculated. Her voice broke the silence at last, low and unsteady, "So he didn’t just betray us... he’s been preparing for this all along."

Vincenzo’s gaze found hers, sharp and knowing. "He wanted to stand taller than the Conclave, to claim power no one else dared touch." His voice dropped, a razor’s edge beneath the calm. "But the Dark Witches don’t make allies. They make pawns. And that’s all he ever was to them."

The fire cracked, its sparks vanishing slowly into the dark. For a moment, Anneliese couldn’t tell if the chill that ran through her came from the wind—or from the shadow his words left behind.

She drew in a breath, steadying herself before speaking again. "Earlier, your friend Adomas mentioned Haselburg," she murmured, her voice edged with unease. "To look into what, exactly, are we visiting my town tomorrow? Is it... related to the parchment your butler handed you during dinner?"

Vincenzo didn’t answer immediately. He leaned back, fingers steepled, expression unreadable in the fading firelight. For a moment, she thought he might deflect. Instead, without a word, he reached for the folded parchment resting at the table’s edge and slid it across the polished wood toward her.

Anneliese swallowed, hesitating before leaning forward, her hand hovering above it until she finally drew the parchment closer. She unfolded it—the ink pressed into the fibers was dark, the handwriting precise, stripped of warmth, almost cold in its detachment. For clear visibility, she pulled the candleholder closer, its wavering flame spilling golden light across the page. Anneliese’s eyes scanned the carefully penned words, her pulse quickening.

Her brows knitted in confusion. She looked up sharply. "It’s... it’s a coded message! I can not understand a word of it!"

Vincenzo’s lips curved ever so slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. His dark-red eyes flickered with amusement as he regarded her flustered expression, clearly savoring the furrow of her brows and the thin line of her pressed lips.

He leaned forward slightly, fingers brushing the edge of the table. "Movement has been sighted in Haselburg," he murmured, voice low, almost casual, yet heavy with implication—enough to make her pulse hitch.

"What kind of movement?" Anneliese asked, her voice tight.

"The kind I did not want but anticipated," Vincenzo replied, tone low, precise. "Traces—found where none should be. They have begun their work. They are searching for the Book of Spells... and its anchor. Somehow, they learned about the Book and your presence in Haselburg. They struck, but failed—you were at the river, and the Book remained secure in the Conclave’s building. But their search does not falter; it grows sharper, colder, more desperate with each passing hour."

Anneliese’s fingers clenched around the parchment, her pulse quickening. "Do they know that I am the anchor?" Her brow furrowed, confusion and worry sharpening her features. "And... if they were after the Book and me, why attack Windborn?"

Vincenzo’s gaze darkened, his tone measured. "I don’t believe they knew it was you back then. But now... with the people of your town missing, your family gone, and with your father’s knowledge—his secrets, lost to them—there’s a very real chance they’ve discovered your identity." He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "As for why they attacked Windborn... that remains a mystery, even to me."

Anneliese’s chest tightened, a cold knot of unease curling in her stomach. Her fingers still gripped the parchment as though it might anchor her against the rising dread. Her eyes flicked up to Vincenzo, searching for answers, for a flicker of reassurance—anything to steady the storm of questions swirling in her mind. Yet his expression remained composed, unreadable.

Taking a deep, trembling breath, she asked, "Who sent you this code of information? Did you leave someone in Haselburg to report?"

Vincenzo’s dark-red eyes flickered briefly, taking in the tightness in her shoulders and the unease in her gaze. To ease the tension, with a trace of amusement in his voice, he said. "I see you have completely forgotten Oscar—my cat. As you might guess, Oscar is not allowed to leave Haselburg to deliver messages himself, and I cannot go there myself constantly. So, in situations like this, he sends coded information through my crow."

Sensing that her tense expression showed no sign of softening, her brows still drawn and lips pressed thin, Vincenzo leaned closer, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a quiet, commanding intensity. "No one will harm you," he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl beneath the calm. "And we will uncover every answer—every single one. You’re far stronger than you realize, Anneliese... stronger than you even dare to believe."