Chapter 8 — The First Move
The frost clung to the windows that morning, pale sunlight bleeding into the room like it was afraid to disturb the cold. I’d grown used to this silence. Not because I liked it, but because it gave me room to think.
Mother had left not long after I returned to this younger body. I barely had time to look into her eyes before she was gone again—heading west on one of her quiet diplomatic missions. She always handled what Father didn’t trust the Empire to see. A colder kind of war, fought with silk and words instead of steel.
I’d missed her more than I expected to. But that was who she was—always moving, always working behind walls no one else noticed until it was too late.
The manor had grown quieter these past weeks. Servants whispered more softly, and even Father’s footsteps carried the weight of watching eyes. The Empire’s presence hadn’t lessened—only settled in, like frost that refused to melt.
Father sat across from me, poring over merchant reports and supply ledgers. A map of the surrounding lands was stretched between us, weighted at the corners with iron candlesticks. Red ink marked the Imperial patrol routes. Their presence spread like cracks in ice.
“The northern caravans will need new escorts,” he said without looking up. “The Imperials’ checkpoints have spooked half our traders.”
“Then we give them a reason to move through the west instead,” I replied, tracing the patrol routes with my finger.
He glanced up, studying me. “You’ve been thinking ahead.”
I’ve been forced to.
He leaned back, steepling his hands. “If we start redirecting our merchants westward, the Empire will follow. If they’re searching for someone—or something—they’ll treat it as a lead.”
“That’s the point,” I said.
“You’re playing with fire, Ardyn. Pushing them in one direction might ease the north, but it could also tighten their grip somewhere else.”
“Then we make sure where they’re looking… isn’t where anything worth finding exists.”
His brow furrowed as he considered the western routes. “There’s nothing of strategic value out there but empty farmland and poor villages.”
“Exactly,” I said. “We feed them whispers. Make them believe something is. They’ll chase it.”
Father’s lips curved—just slightly. “And when they find nothing?”
“They’ll waste time and resources,” I answered. “And I’ll make sure they don’t know they’ve been played.”
He chuckled low under his breath, though his eyes remained hard. “Your mother would be proud of that line.”
Training with Kael had grown sharper with each passing day. The snow thickened, but the forest remained our private battlefield. He didn’t speak much, but when he did, every word carried weight.
“You’re too loud,” Kael said one evening, voice low. “The moment you touch the Echo, it’s like ringing a bell.”
I exhaled through the cold, trying to thin the Echo’s pulse into a thread. “I’m not trying to hide.”
“That’s exactly your problem,” he said, stepping forward. His hand brushed through the air, and the forest around us shifted—branches bending, sound twisting. Even the snow seemed to vanish into silence. “You don’t fight Echo head on. You let it speak for you.”
He crouched, pressing his palm to the frozen ground. A ripple pulsed outward, quiet as a heartbeat. “This is called a Veil Pulse. A false signature buried beneath surface Echo. Hunters live off these scents. Give them the wrong one, and they’ll spend days chasing shadows.”
I followed his motion, pressing my hand into the snow. My pulse flared too bright, too wild. The frost cracked around my fingers like thin glass.
“Too loud,” Kael said sharply. “If you want to live, stop shouting at the world. Whisper. Layer the frequency. Let the snow carry it.”
I closed my eyes and pushed again—this time folding the Echo inward, then letting it bleed out like smoke through cracks in stone. The air shimmered faintly, and for a heartbeat, the forest felt like something had passed through… something that wasn’t me.
Kael’s smile was thin. “Better. That’s the foundation. Veil Pulse for diversion. Later, you’ll learn Echo Threading—planting multiple false trails at once. When done right, an entire company can spend a week hunting air.”
I exhaled a shaky laugh. “I can barely get one.”
“Then it’s a good thing you have time,” he said.
As he straightened, a flicker crossed his face—a tremor he quickly tried to bury. Black veins briefly snaked up his wrist, pulsing beneath pale skin before fading. I caught the way his hand lingered against his chest, the breath he tried to steady.
“Cold getting to you?” I asked.
“The cold’s the least of my problems,” he muttered.
The Shadow network was no longer just a handful of children trading whispers for copper. It had become a system.
In a dim corner of the old lodge, Lira spread a crude map across a table, its edges curling with the damp. “We’ll start the first rumor here,” she said, tapping a small western village. “If we do it right, the Imperials will be sniffing around in three days.”
She’s fast. I chose well.
Elias leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “And if they don’t take the bait?”
“They will,” I said. “I’ll leave a trace near the border. The patrols are desperate for anything they can call a lead. The moment they sense it, they’ll chase it.”
Toren stepped forward, his jaw tight. “What about the farmers there?”
“Nothing will happen to them,” I said. “They’re bait, not targets.”
That earned me a wary look, but he didn’t argue. Sera was already working the network in the lower town, getting merchants to whisper about cloaked figures passing through the west.
Every lie was placed carefully. Like stones in a trap.
Within days, the air itself carried the wrong story. Patrol reports confirmed “unidentified magical traces” near the western ridge. Merchants swore they saw strange lights on the roads at night. Children claimed a robed figure bought bread and disappeared into the forest.
And all of it led the Empire away from where Kael and I actually were.
A week later, Kael appeared at the edge of the lodge. The patrol map was spread before me, ink-stained and covered in updated routes. Westward. All westward.
“Impressive,” Kael said, his silver eyes glinting. “They’re chasing ghosts.”
“Your ghosts,” I replied.
He stepped closer, scanning the map. “You’ve learned fast.”
“I’ve had good motivation.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Do you even know why they’re after me?”
I didn’t answer. Truth was, I didn’t. Not fully.
“Good,” he said softly. “Curiosity means you’re not ready to die yet.”
“Kael,” I called. “How long can this work?”
He didn’t turn, but his voice carried easily through the snow. “As long as your lies are louder than my name.”
He started to walk, cloak trailing frost behind him. But the way his hand lingered against his chest didn’t escape me. I’d felt that Echo before—rotting beneath the surface.
“The curse,” I said quietly. “Can it be cured?”
He stopped. For a heartbeat, the entire forest felt still.
“You’ve noticed,” he muttered.
“It’s hard not to.”
He let out a humorless laugh, low and bitter. “Cured? No. You don’t cure something like this.”
“Then who—”
“Someone stronger than anyone walking this land,” he cut in sharply. There was no boasting in his tone, only quiet, biting truth. “Stronger than the court’s entire Circle of Mages combined. Stronger than His Majesty.”
My brow furrowed at that. Stronger than the Emperor? In my past life, the man was a tyrant, yes—but not a warrior. He commanded others. He didn’t fight. “The Emperor isn’t powerful,” I said aloud before I could stop myself.
Kael slowly turned his head, studying me with a sharper gaze than before—like he was trying to peel something apart beneath the surface of my words. “That’s a dangerous thing to believe,” he said quietly. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s stronger than you think. His sword skill was unmatched long before you ever drew breath.”
The idea crawled through my mind like a splinter. Then why did he let the world believe otherwise?
Kael’s shoulders stiffened. “This curse wasn’t meant to kill me quickly. It’s a chain. Slow. Precise. It sinks deeper the longer I breathe.”
“Who did this to you?” I asked.
His voice lowered to a rasp, the weight of years sitting in it. “Someone I should’ve been able to trust.”
Before I could press further, he disappeared into the forest, leaving only the whisper of his Echo behind.
That night, I stood beside Father on the balcony overlooking the northern forest. The snow glittered under the torchlight. Imperial patrol lights—once clustered near our borders—now dotted the western ridge, faint and distant.
“They’ve taken the bait,” Father said quietly.
“For now,” I answered.
His hand rested briefly on my shoulder. Not as a Duke. But as a father. “Then let’s use the time we’ve bought well.”
We will.
For the first time since I woke up in this smaller, younger body… I was no longer just surviving. I was playing the board.