Free Web NovelIn this world, did light emerge from darkness, or did darkness emerge from light?
Adelaide Isolde von Schwabenstein stood at the entrance of the Council Chamber, her fingers pinching a match.
She had been pondering this question for a long time.
If it were the former, then darkness is the source, and light is but an accidental, fleeting, and ultimately vanishing anomaly. freeweɓnovel.cѳm
If it were the latter, then light is the source, and darkness is merely the shadow cast by light, an accessory to light, and the proof of light's existence.
But there is a third possibility.
Perhaps darkness and light were the same thing from the very beginning.
Perhaps they are just two sides of the same coin.
Perhaps...
Scritch.
The match struck the phosphorus strip.
It made a faint friction sound.
A flame danced on the match head.
Adelaide raised the burning match and brought it close to the first candle.
If darkness and light truly were the same thing, then what was the point of what she was doing now?
The moment the wick touched the flame, it made a slight crackling sound.
The light ignited.
She looked at that faint flame.
Light born from darkness.
But this light cast deeper shadows around it.
So, did this count as light conquering darkness, or darkness using light to expand its territory?
She didn't know.
She had been thinking about this question for many years.
But even today, she still had no answer.
The dim yellow candlelight began to spread in all directions.
Adelaide watched as the light illuminated the room bit by bit.
First was the floor.
The black marble floor, smooth as a mirror.
Carved into the floor was a pattern she had seen countless times.
A giant circle, and inside the circle was an open eye, with a triangle, a hexagram, and countless interlacing lines nested within its pupil.
Those lines seemed to squirm slightly under the candlelight.
Adelaide knew it wasn't an illusion.
They were indeed moving.
They were always moving.
Most people just couldn't see it.
Then there was a ring of high-backed chairs arranged around the pattern.
Thirteen chairs.
The chairs were made of black iron and leather, with towering backs, hideous beast heads cast on the armrests, and chair legs like twisted claws gripping the floor tightly.
They looked more like some kind of torture devices.
Rather than furniture.
People were sitting in every chair.
Black robes.
Hoods.
Their faces were shrouded in an unnatural darkness; even when the candlelight fell upon them, it could not penetrate that layer of shadow.
Motionless.
Like thirteen meticulously arranged corpses.
Adelaide moved her feet and walked toward the second candle.
The match had already burned to the edge of her fingers.
She felt no pain.
Or rather, she hadn't felt pain in a long time.
Aside from the answers to her questions, she hadn't felt anything for a long time.
She touched the tip of her finger to the wick.
Flame leaped from her fingertip.
The second candle lit up.
Then the third.
The fourth.
The fifth.
She walked slowly around the circular pattern, lighting the candles one by one.
Her red dress trailed on the floor, tracing a dark red mark across the black marble.
With each one lit, the room grew a bit brighter.
With each one lit, the black-robed figures in the chairs moved slightly.
When the first candle was lit, the finger of the black-robed figure on the far left twitched.
When the second candle was lit, his chest began to rise and fall.
When the third candle was lit, he let out a low groan.
It was as if a corpse were being slowly awakened.
And when the sixth candle was lit.
A black-robed figure opposite her suddenly sat bolt upright.
He reached out and pulled back his hood.
Revealing an old face.
Full of wrinkles, sunken eye sockets, and cracked lips.
But his eyes were startlingly bright—like two burning flames.
"Damn it, this cursed meeting again."
His voice was hoarse and irritable.
"I was in the middle of a very important experiment, you know?"
"A very, very important experiment."
"I had already processed that sacrifice to the third layer, right at the most critical part—"
"Shut up, Gregor."
Another voice interrupted him.
The seventh candle had just been lit.
The speaker was a woman.
She didn't take off her hood, but her voice came from that darkness, carrying an unsettling sweetness.
"No one wants to hear about your experiment." ƒrēewebnovel.com
"I—"
"Especially after you left your experimental subject all over the floor last time."
There was amusement in the woman's voice.
"The cleanup costs were deducted from your share."
Gregor's face turned beet red.
"That was an accident! The soul intensity of that sacrifice exceeded my expectations—"
"An accident?"
A third voice joined the argument.
The eighth candle was lit.
It was a young man's voice, lazy and tinged with mockery.
"You say it's an accident every time. Last time was an accident, the time before that was an accident, and the time before that was an accident too."
"Dear Gregor, why don't you just carve 'accident' onto your forehead?"
"You—!"
Gregor stood up °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° abruptly.
The chair slid back, making a piercing scraping sound.
"Kid, say that again?"
"I said—"
"Enough."
A fourth voice rang out.
Low.
Calm.
But carrying an unquestionable authority.
The moment the ninth candle was lit, the temperature in the entire room seemed to drop several degrees.
Gregor froze in place.
The young man also shut his mouth.
The sweet-voiced woman let out a soft chuckle but stopped speaking as well.
"Sit down,"
the voice said.
Gregor slowly sat back in his chair.
His expression was grim, but he didn't speak again.
Adelaide ignored them completely, simply continuing to light the candles.
Tenth.
Eleventh.
Twelfth.
With each one lit, another black-robed figure woke up.
Some removed their hoods, revealing a variety of faces.
Old and young.
Men and women.
Human faces.
And some not-so-human ones.
Some kept their hoods on, hiding themselves within that unnatural darkness.
Adelaide saw a face covered in scales, a pair of eyes that were pure black without any whites, and a mouth that stretched all the way to the ears, revealing two rows of sharp teeth.
She suddenly felt a bit curious: if she were her old self, would she have felt fear?
But she didn't know, because she hadn't felt even fear for a long time.
Soon, they began to whisper among themselves.
Some were cursing under their breath, some were whispering, some were chanting in a language Adelaide didn't understand, and some simply closed their eyes, showing no interest in their surroundings.
Yes, these were the high-ranking members of the Secret Party.
The Illuminati Party, the rulers of the most mysterious, ancient, and dangerous Wayfarer association in the Empire's underworld.
Those with the power to decide what is light and what is darkness.
Unfortunately, Adelaide was not among their ranks.
She was merely a Recorder.
Her job was to light the candles, summon the souls, and record the meeting.
She had done it for many years and would continue to do so.
Until one day, she too became one of the black-robed figures in those chairs.
Or became one of those squirming lines on the floor.
She didn't know which ending was better.
Perhaps both were the same ending.
Perhaps darkness and light were the same thing from the very beginning.
The thirteenth candle was lit.
Adelaide stopped, returning to her position in the very center of the circular pattern.
She stood upon the giant eye, the candlelight shining on her from all directions, yet casting a strange shadow at her feet.
The shape of that shadow was wrong.
It wasn't the shape of a normal person.
It was the shape of... a man hanging upside down.
Head down.
Feet up.
Hands tied behind the back.
But she still stood perfectly straight.
She looked around.
Thirteen chairs.
Thirteen black-robed figures.
But only ten were moving.
Three remained motionless.
Silent.
Like actual corpses.
Adelaide's gaze lingered on those three chairs for a moment.
Then, she spoke.
"Everyone."
There was no inflection in her voice.
Flat.
Hollow.
Like a marionette speaking.
"The meeting begins."
