Sanctuary: Safe Haven

Inside a dimly lit chamber, the room's walls were lined with maps, scrolls, and documents detailing every underground operation that The Black Thorn faction had in motion. At the center of the room sat a tall, imposing woman with sharp features and eyes that gleamed with intelligence and cruelty—Seraphis, the leader of The Black Thorn.

Her four elites stood silently before her, their expressions tense as they awaited her orders. This was not a good day for the faction.

A man dressed in dark leather armor, drenched in sweat, approached Seraphis. His face was pale, and he trembled as he knelt, clutching a report tightly in his hands.

"My lady," the man began, his voice wavering. "We've lost more hostages. A large group, snatched right from under our noses… again."

The air in the room thickened. Seraphis slowly raised her eyes from the map she had been studying, her gaze freezing the man in place. "How many?" Her voice was calm, too calm.

"At least sixty, my lady. Men, women... children," he stammered. "It's the third group this week."

The silence that followed was suffocating. The four elites standing behind the man—Malek, Solenne, Xyler, and Lira—exchanged uneasy glances. They knew what Seraphis' calm voice meant. Someone was going to suffer for this failure.

"You are telling me," Seraphis began, her tone still measured, "that we have lost not one, not two, but three shipments of slaves. And this… under our very noses?"

The man nodded, his body trembling. "Yes, my lady. We… we don't know who is responsible. They're targeting our transports, our bases. We've increased patrols, doubled the guards, but they vanish before we can even get there. It's like… like they know our every move."

Seraphis slammed her fist on the table, causing the man to flinch. Her eyes blazed with fury, the sharpness in her voice returning. "Do you think I care for your excuses?" Her voice dropped to a cold whisper. "We are not dealing with a common band of thieves here. This is something else. Someone is targeting us specifically, and I want to know who."

The man's face paled further, but before he could respond, Malek stepped forward. His towering frame cast a shadow over the trembling messenger. "Let me deal with it," Malek growled. "Give me the word, and I'll track these vermin down myself. I'll break every bone in their bodies until they tell me who they are."n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Seraphis considered the offer for a moment before shaking her head. "No, Malek. We can't afford to be reckless. Whoever this is, they're not just attacking us at random. They know exactly what they're doing. We need to find them first, and then you can have your fun."

Xyler, the master of espionage, spoke up next, his voice smooth and calculated. "I have eyes and ears all over the kingdom, my lady. I'll increase surveillance in every major city, every village. We'll find out where they're hiding, and when we do, we'll move in silently. If they think they can outmaneuver The Black Thorn, they are gravely mistaken." Stay tuned to empire

"Make sure of it, Xyler," Seraphis snapped. "This isn't just about the slaves. If they're willing to challenge us directly, they pose a threat to everything we've built. We can't allow anyone to think we've gone soft. I want them crushed."

Lira, ever the calm strategist, stepped forward. "I suggest we also reinforce our supply routes and bases, my lady. If they're targeting our transports, we need to move our operations. Shift locations, increase our guards, and install new checkpoints. We need to ensure no more of our assets go missing."

Seraphis nodded. Lira's logistics were always sound. "Do it. Double the guards at every base. Move the slaves to more secure locations, and if anyone tries to move against us, kill them. No more escapes."

The messenger, still on his knees, dared to speak again. "My lady… there's more. One of our informants in Clan Varran reported something unusual."

"Go on," Seraphis said, her patience wearing thin.

The man swallowed hard. "A new recruit has been spotted. He wears the same white uniform as the one seen in the recent raid—the man with the mohawk style. His name is Maggi. He's been gathering attention, and we believe he might be connected to the recent events. Our informant suspects he is tied to whoever is disrupting our operations."

The room fell silent once more, but this time, the air was electric with anticipation. Seraphis' eyes narrowed. "Maggi, you say? Clan Varran has always been a thorn in my side, but this… this is interesting."

Solenne, the master of poisons, smiled wickedly. "Perhaps I should pay this Maggi a visit, my lady. I could slip in unnoticed and... coax the information out of him. Gently, of course."

"No," Seraphis said, her mind already working through the possibilities. "This one requires a more delicate approach. Xyler, you will contact our moles inside Clan Varran. Have them set a trap. I want Maggi brought to me alive. No mistakes, no mess.

We need to find out what he knows."

Xyler nodded. "Consider it done, my lady. I'll reach out to our people and set everything in motion."

Seraphis leaned back in her chair, her sharp features cast in shadow. "Whoever this Maggi is, I want him broken. If he's involved in any way with the attacks on our operations, he will pay dearly for it. And if he's not..." she paused, her eyes gleaming, "we'll find a use for him regardless."

Malek grinned, his fists clenched at the thought of the violence to come. "When you're ready, my lady, I'll make sure he remembers the name Black Thorn."

"Good," Seraphis said, her voice low and deadly. "Let them know we're watching. And make sure they understand that no one crosses The Black Thorn and lives to tell the tale."

As the elites began to carry out their orders, Seraphis sat back, her mind racing. The loss of slaves and hostages was a blow, but she knew this was more than that. This was a challenge to her authority, and she would not stand for it. Whoever this enemy was, they had power. They had influence. And now, they had her full attention.

"They will regret ever crossing me," she muttered, her fingers tracing the outline of the black thorn tattoo that marked her right hand. It was a symbol of her control, her dominion over the underworld of Kharath, and she would make sure it stayed that way.

With her plans in motion, Seraphis stood, ready to face the threat head-on. And when she did, she would show them why The Black Thorn was feared in every shadowed corner of the kingdom.