Ashes of the Elite-Chapter 30: Eavesdropping

I hurry after Howard as he strides quickly down the dimly lit hallways, his pace brisk with purpose. His silence tells me he's focused, but I can't help rolling my eyes at his dramatics. After a few twists and turns, we arrive at a small, unassuming room. There's barely any furniture: a dusty old desk, a chair, and a large wooden shelf pressed against the back wall.

Howard moves straight to the shelf, gripping its edges, then turns his head slightly, lowering his voice. "Help me move this."

I just stare at him.

"You are an Awakened; there's no way you need help moving that."

I raise a hand before he can say anything else and step forward.

"Never mind, my good man; I'll do it. Don't worry."

Pressing my hands against the rough wood. I shove aside, revealing a narrow wooden door set into the wall. I glance at Howard, who looks embarrassed.

"This is one of the old servants' passages," he explains. "My father had the majority of them converted into escape routes in case the castle was ever sieged or infiltrated by assassins."

I let out a dry chuckle. "Oh yeah, no, that's not paranoid of him at all. Totally normal considering he lives in probably one of the safest cities in Avrael."

Howard just scowls before gripping the handle and pulling the door open, revealing a cramped passageway. I follow him inside, the walls narrowing around us as we move single file through the tight, musty corridor. The air is stale, thick with dust, and the flooring beneath our feet is uneven. Each step is careful, the space too small for anything else.

Finally, Howard slows as we reach a near-vertical, one-step staircase more like a ladder than proper stairs. He gestures upward. "This will take us into the ceiling above the room we just left. There's a crawl space up there it's thin, but we should be able to hear everything.

We wriggle into the crawl space, the ceiling uncomfortably low, forcing us to lay flat on our stomachs. The wooden beams beneath us creak faintly as we shift, but the old structure holds. Dust tickles my nose, and I fight the urge to sneeze as I press my ear to the floor, listening.

The voices from below are muffled at first, but with my heightened senses, I focus, tuning out everything else. Soon, the words become clear. Howard does the same beside me, his breathing slow and controlled as he strains to hear.

"...Now enough of that; let's get to the point. Ayato is an interesting boy, Cain."

Manahar's voice filters through the wooden floor, my ears sharpening as I listen.

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A familiar grunt follows. "Yeah, I agree." Cain sounds uncharacteristically serious.

Manahar exhales, then continues, "I know you're upset with me for assigning you to this without talking to you first."

Cain's response carries a tinge of annoyance. "That's putting it lightly."

A pause. Then Manahar speaks again, his tone measured. "It's more for the boy Ayato than it is for young Ashland. You do realize that, of course, this was just a convenient excuse to allow you to have the time off."

I narrow my eyes. What the hell does that mean?

Manahar continues, "From what we talked about, he doesn't know how to control his marks of power, and that's dangerous. And now you tell me his trigger is hate? Do you know the issues this will cause him?"

Cain is silent for a beat before he begrudgingly mutters, "Yeah. I'm aware of the issues it's going to cause him."

"Not only that, but his sword training, the boy is progressing at an unnatural rate." And that's not even getting into the damn mess the inquisitors are becoming with a three-mark bearer appearing.

Cain snorts. "I agree it's slightly strange he's only been awakened for two months, and he already fights like he's been training for years. Even with my training him, I didn't really expect such results.

There's a pause before Manahar speaks again, his tone darkening. "And what do you make of it? His arrogance, his anger, his hate for the Empire?"

Cain sighs. "I find it amusing, you know his background?"

Manahar chuckles, but there's no warmth in it. "Ahh, yes. The son of traitors. Tragic, indeed."

My breath catches. My fingers tighten against the wood.

Then, Manahar's tone shifts, taking on something almost... sinister. "Tell me, Cain. Is he a threat to the Empire?"

A short pause. Then Cain laughs, low and amused. "No. But he can be a great asset. Once he can control his powers, he could easily become a Spellbreaker."

Manahar hums in interest. "Really? You think he possesses that type of power?" A beat of silence, then he adds, "I know how you feel about owning that title, so it's shocking to hear coming from you."

Cain exhales heavily, irritation seeping into his voice. "I just hate when people call me that." A pause. Then, quieter, "It reminds me of my brother, but obviously I'm proud of what I've accomplished."

There's a knowing silence before Manahar replies, his voice softer. "Of course. I apologize."

I barely have time to process that before Manahar shifts the conversation again. "But Cain, you need to prepare him for the Academy. Not everyone in Lusa is as excited as the archbishop and the king are about their new weapon. He'll have a target on his back the moment he steps foot there."

Cain doesn't sound the least bit concerned. "I'll get him up to speed. He'll survive the Academy."

Manahar chuckles. "Only because it's you, Cain. I'll take your word for it."

There's a soft clink of glass, a telltale sign of a shared drink.

I turn to Howard and nudge him, signaling for us to back out. Slowly, carefully, we crawl in reverse through the cramped space.

My thoughts are a storm. What the fuck was that conversation? New weapon? Like I knew Elites were treated as such but damn is not sad to hear" And what the hell is a Spellbreaker?

But more than that, Cain. He was different. Colder. More calculated with his words. It wasn't the laid-back, half-assed mentor I was used to. It was like listening to a completely different person.

As we slip out of the hidden passage and step back into the dimly lit corridor, I shake off the lingering weight of what we just overheard. My mind is still racing, trying to make sense of everything, when Howard suddenly turns to me.

His usual haughty demeanor is absent, replaced by something hesitant. "Are you... okay?"

I blink, caught off guard by the question. Of all people, I wouldn't have expected Howard Ashland to be the one checking in on me. "Yeah, I'm fine," I say slowly, still processing. "Just confused as hell on what a Spellbreaker is."

Howard's reaction is immediate; his brows shoot up, and his eyes widen in disbelief. "You don't know what that is? When Awakened, Cain is one?"

I resist the urge to scoff. "If I knew, I wouldn't be asking, now would I?"

Howard exhales, shaking his head like he can't believe my ignorance. "Not all Elites are on the same level as you should know," he begins, his voice taking on the tone of a lecture. "Some can use their powers to greater extents than others or find more creative ways to wield them, even those with the same Mark of Power. A Spellbreaker is someone officially recognized by the King as an Elite among Elites. They're so powerful that just calling them an elite doesn't do them proper honor."

I process that for a moment before Howard continues, his tone more serious now. "Right now, there are only fifteen active Spellbreakers in the entire Empire. Cain was the last one appointed—five years ago, right after he graduated from the Academy." His eyes sparkle in respect. "He earned the title by single-handedly killing fourteen Elites who ambushed him from the Nation of Jarvix by himself during the war before we conquered them."

I let out an involuntary gasp. Fourteen Elites? Alone? I knew Cain was strong, but that is insane. It puts things into a completely different perspective. What type of monster is he?

Howard looks at me intently. "The fact that Awakened Cain thinks you can become one... That's a great compliment."

I glance away in embarrassment. Cain had never said anything about this to me. Never even hinted at it.

What the hell does he see in me? And why?