CHAPTER 56: MAPPING THE INVISIBLE

The silence that followed Vincenzo’s words was sharp enough to cut. The weight of what had been spoken—the possibility of a hand greater than the witches—hung between them like an uninvited guest.

Archimedes did not move at first. His gaze was steady, fixed upon Vincenzo, but the storm simmering beneath pressed at the chamber until the air itself seemed taut. The Demon King’s voice, when it came, was low and dangerous.

"You suggest there is something above them. Or someone." Each syllable precise as he asked, "But what made you draw that conclusion?"

Anneliese shifted in her chair, the cold weight of his words pressing into her chest. Her nightmare returned unbidden—the iron around her throat, the fire searing her hands, the cloaked figure approaching. No one other than her and Vincenzo knew of it yet. And now, hearing him speak of an unseen hand while the King demanded answers, she wondered: had that shadow brushed against her mind for a reason? Or was her nightmare hidden from the shadow as well? Or was it fate itself that had chosen to direct them this way?

Her eyes found Vincenzo’s as he answered the Demon King. "Anneliese had a nightmare of a place none of us has ever heard of, inhabited by an unknown shadow."

Anneliese continued Vincenzo’s statement, her gaze daring to shift from him to Archimedes. "Though it came as a dream, I am certain it was not. It was a vision—sent either by the shadow itself for some purpose, or by fate, to guide us toward the truth."

A flicker of doubt passed over Archimedes’s face, and his gaze swept from Elowyn to Adomas—only to find the same uncertainty mirrored there.

Finally, Archimedes looked to Vincenzo, who was reading the chamber registering their doubts, responded, his voice steady as stone. "If Anneliese is certain it was a vision—and that it was real—then no matter if it came from past or present." He let his gaze travel across each of their eyes, one by one, delivering the weight of his conviction. "The place. The shadow. Everything else... it was as real as any of us."

A silence followed, heavy and charged. And yet, the certainty in Vincenzo’s voice was a force of its own—so unyielding, so absolute—that even doubt seemed to shrink under it. One by one, they found themselves believing, because if Vincenzo was sure, then it must be true.

Archimedes’s jaw clenched, the flicker of fury tightening his features. "This shadow, it has already trespassed on my lands. On wards thought unbreakable. Do you understand what you are implying?"

Vincenzo’s reply came without hesitation. "I do."

Elowyn leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she studied him with careful precision. "You believe the witches are not the source but the weapon. That their movements are too unified to be their own—based only on a nightmare you claim is a vision?"

"Yes," Vincenzo answered. His voice carried like iron across the chamber. "And that means we must ask not what hunts us, but who. A mind sharper than the Conclave. Patient enough to wait for centuries." His gaze swept the chamber, lingering on Adomas in silent exchange, then flicking briefly to Anneliese. "And clever enough to remain unseen while the world bleeds—without red marking the walls."

Archimedes moved, slow and deliberate, then crossed the room. He lowered himself onto the couch set aside, the movement commanding in its simplicity. "If this is true, then the Conclave’s reports are worthless. We prepare for pawns while ignoring the shadow that commands them. Tell me, Vincenzo—do you have a plan? Or even the faintest suspicion who it might be?"

The room stilled on the edge of that question.

Vincenzo did not flinch. His tone was calm, resolute. "No. I do not have any suspicion yet on who it might be. And as for a plan—that is why I asked you to come along with me today, to Versimoil. So we might think sharper together and might draw out that hand, drag that shadow from its cave into the light, and finish it."

Adomas’s voice cut through the silence, cool but edged with unease. "And how, Vincenzo, do you propose we possibly draw out the hand behind the witches—when it has hidden itself for centuries from even the sharpest minds alive?"

Vincenzo’s voice deepened, an undertone threaded with finality. "There is no other option but to find a way. We are already playing a game against a rival who knows us all—while keeping his own face concealed."

The words lingered, dark and heavy. Archimedes folded one leg over the other, settling back as if weighing each syllable.

"Yes," he said at last, his voice iron. "We need to find him." His gaze swept the room, hard and unrelenting. "Find this phantom hand before it closes around the world. Because if we do not, then all our kingdoms will vanish like Ghouldbone—silent, hollow, and gone."

The crackle of the hearth seemed almost intrusive. Shadows seemed to cling tighter to the corners, as though the room itself recoiled from the truth now spoken aloud.

Elowyn’s fingers drummed lightly once against the arm of her chair, thoughtful but edged. "If we accept this theory of a hidden hand, then the Conclave is blind. We cannot depend on their scouts or their records—they’ll keep chasing shadows and calling it progress." Her eyes cut toward Vincenzo. "So tell me—where do we begin?"

Vincenzo leaned forward at last, resting his elbows against the table’s edge, the faint glow from the hearth brushing the sharp veins of his forearms. "We begin by mapping their precision. Windborn. Haselburg. Ghouldbone. Three places, chosen deliberately. If the hand leaves no trace, then we must search not for what it has spared but the locations of the targeted sites. Figure out why, of all the cities, towns, and villages, these locations were chosen." With an even tone, he continued firmly. "If these towns were chosen, then others were overlooked. Why? What are they circling? What is at the center of their design?"

Adomas’s brow furrowed, his voice smooth but skeptical. "We can easily look into locations on maps as well as on lands, but how can we find out the reason why they were chosen?"

Archimedes’s dark gaze narrowed, his presence heavy like stone as he regarded them both in a thoughtful manner.

Vincenzo countered, his voice low, deliberate. "I am not asking us to track their pawns or the shadow at the first move. I am asking us to step into the mind of the hand that moves them: the Witches."

The fire popped sharply, scattering sparks that vanished before they reached the air.

Elowyn exhaled slowly, as though settling something within herself. "If this hand is centuries old, then it leaves more than vanished towns. It leaves echoes—in archives, in spellbooks, in forgotten wards etched into stone. We should search history as much as the present. Old wars. Old disappearances. Anything that does not fit the tale we were told."

Anneliese’s voice, soft but steady, slipped into the space between them before she had time to second-guess it. "And the vision." All eyes turned to her, the weight of their gazes pressing like heat against her skin. She forced herself not to look away. "If the shadow or fate showed me something once, it may show me again. I don’t know how, or when. Whatever it was, if it reaches for me—" her hands tightened in her lap—"then I can try to reach back to find more than we know."

The chamber fell into a deeper silence, one that seemed to measure her.

Archimedes’s eyes lingered on her longer than comfort allowed, but it was Vincenzo’s voice that broke the stillness, quiet but final. "No. You will do no such thing, even with or without training."

For a heartbeat, her chest tightened. She had grown used to Vincenzo’s voice being a shield, a tether in a storm—but now it felt like a wall, though one intended to protect her. She thought of her family, lost in the dark, and of the dreams that clawed at her sleep. If she stayed silent, she would lose any chance of reaching them. If she spoke, she risked defying Vincenzo. Yet the choice was no longer a choice; the weight of it burned through her like fire.

Anneliese steadied herself against the statement made for her before replying, "That’s up to me to decide. What I will or will not do!" She softened slightly as she continued, "My family is somewhere out there under the clutches of someone that only executes ruthlessness. I have answers to find. A destiny to fulfill. So I will do whatever it will take." Her gaze moved toward Elowyn as she regarded her, "And I need you to teach me a way to reach it back whenever the vision comes back!" She looked back to Vincenzo, understanding his cautiousness. "I know it is risky, too risky, but even if it was not the shadow that has showed itself but fate, then I will not ignore what fate has chosen to show me. And if it was not fate but the hand of the shadow that wants to reach out to me through dreams, then let’s prepare me to touch it back—reach it on our terms. In that way we might find a way to draw the shadow out of its darkness and reveal its identity."

Adomas shifted, tension cutting into his otherwise calm demeanor as he asked Anneliese, "You would risk your mind as bait?"

Anneliese looked to her left at Adomas partly to answer him, partly to avoid Vincenzo’s gaze. "Yes. We have fewer options to rule any of them out, nor we have time to wait for an option to appear. It is a gamble, I know, but that is all I have got for now to fight this war shoulder to shoulder with everyone."

Archimedes leaned back, the shadows shifting around his frame like obedient hounds. "Then we plan three hunts. One through the present—patterns, chosen places. Second through the past—histories rewritten, names erased, victories too clean to be trusted." His jaw tightened, a flicker of iron resolve cutting through his features. "And at last, if fate has chosen the girl and she is willing to risk herself, then we sharpen her until she is no longer a vessel, but a sword."

Anneliese’s breath shook, the firelight flickering in her blue eyes. Yet beneath the fear, a quiet spark took root. A spark that might, in time, burn.

Elowyn’s voice slid into the space, cool and decisive. "Then we divide the work. I will scour the ancient records—my ancestors’ book may hold more than we’ve uncovered. Vincenzo, you map the locations. Archimedes—your wards and barriers may show us where the witches tried and failed. As for Anneliese..." She paused, her gaze sharp but not unkind. "She must learn to wield the vision, not be crushed by it."

The Demon King inclined his head, a motion that was less agreement than decree. "So be it."

The chamber seemed to shift then, the weight of dread transforming into the heavy grind of resolve. The shadow above the witches still loomed, unseen and untouchable—but now, for the first time, the chamber held not only darkness of it, but a plan to reach for it.

And somewhere, in the silence that followed, the fire hissed as if in warning—echoing like the hand was already watching.