Chapter 1477: Urgent News from the North

Before the first rays of dawn could filter through the castle’s windows, the elderly man lying in bed suddenly snapped his eyes open.

The cold, misty aura of that fog-shrouded city still lingered deep within his senses. It was hard to tell whether it was real or illusion—a false memory implanted in his mind, flickering through his nervous system like a phantom. Modir felt as if he were still standing in that violet-border city. He could smell the air, feel the breeze. This vivid sensation was unlike the usual fading impressions one has upon waking from a dream.

Relying on his vast knowledge and years of experience dealing with extraordinary phenomena, the old mage quickly assessed his own state: in the past several hours, his mind had traveled far away, to a place where reality and illusion, dream and waking life, blurred into one. For a purely human consciousness to operate in such an environment was no different from embarking on a genuine journey.

In the next moment, Modir’s gaze cleared completely. Skipping the usual groggy adjustment that could last all day, he used his formidable mental strength to recalibrate his mind to normal. Then he rose, changed out of his nightclothes, and called for the attendant waiting in the corridor. “Send for Victoria. I have urgent matters to discuss with her.”

Not long after, Victoria arrived, dressed in her casual home gown. The Duchess of the North looked surprised—she hadn’t expected her venerable ancestor to summon her so early. “I heard from the attendant that you have an emergency… What’s happened?”

It was no wonder she was surprised. From a normal person’s perspective, Modir Wilde had spent the entire previous night inside the castle. What kind of emergency could possibly arise from a simple night’s sleep? And judging by his current condition, it didn’t seem like a sudden illness.

Victoria was still puzzled when Modir spoke: “Are there any ships at the North Harbor ready to sail immediately to Violet? If possible, send along a specialized tracking and rescue team, as well as a squad of experts in extraordinary phenomena.”

The duchess blinked, momentarily stunned. She didn’t understand why her ancestor suddenly brought up this matter. But when she heard the word “Violet,” a series of recent intelligence reports flashed through her mind—strange occurrences reported from the mysterious mage kingdom across the strait over the past month. Her expression grew serious, tinged with confusion. “Understood. I’ll arrange it right away. But could you tell me what’s going on? What’s happened in the Kingdom of Violet? How did you—”

“I just returned from there,” Modir said gravely. “Victoria, don’t be so quick to be surprised. Hear me out first. If my suspicions are correct, Prandel City no longer exists… I need you to send people immediately to the beach southeast of Prandel to search for two Intelligence Bureau agents trapped there. They’re still alive for now, but if they remain on the island after nightfall, survival will be unlikely. Also, I need you to send an urgent message to the Imperial Capital…”

…

The Great Migration of the Shadow Dwellers.

Honestly, Gawain knew the mysterious Shadow Realm held countless secrets. He was aware that the strange shadow beings seemed to wander between the shadow and the mortal world as if fulfilling some unknown mission. But he never imagined that one day, these beings would suddenly undergo such a bizarre transformation. Fortunately, Amber was the first to discover and report the phenomenon.

That morning, Hetty arrived early at Gawain’s study to report on the government’s response to Amber’s discovery of the “Great Migration of the Shadow Dwellers.”

“…So far, we have completed observations in Tenlin City, Saint Suniel, Kant, and the White Sands region. Shadow mages in these areas have detected large groups of shadow dwellers gathering and moving northward through rifts. Of course, due to the limitations of ‘normal humans’ in the Shadow Realm and current technology, the images are unclear and incomplete. But the evidence is enough to prove that Amber’s observation is not isolated—it’s likely a widespread event throughout the Shadow Realm.

“Tifon, Silver, and the Holy Dragon Duchy—countries with shadow observation technology or high-level shadow adepts—have also begun monitoring within their borders. Due to the suddenness of the event, no feedback has been received yet.

“Considering the ‘Great Migration’ may be global and that shadow dwellers are highly aggressive toward ‘intruders,’ the government has issued a Shadow Domain risk alert across the territory. All levels of operatives, shadow mages, and shadow spirit shamans are advised to avoid approaching the Shadow Domain and to refrain from prolonged use of shadow-step or shadow-jump abilities that might cause them to cross the boundary unintentionally…”

Listening to Hetty’s clear and methodical report, Gawain nodded slowly. Then he muttered to himself, “Although ordinary shadow practitioners don’t possess Amber’s extraordinary shadow talent, it’s not impossible for them to cross that ‘boundary.’ If they unknowingly enter the Shadow Realm and happen to encounter the migrating hordes, the consequences would be disastrous… After all, not everyone can coexist peacefully with the shadow dwellers like Amber.”

“Our domestic shadow adepts should be safe for now,” Hetty agreed, then her expression turned serious. “But it’s uncertain for other countries. Not every nation, like Cecil, has professionalized and brought all adepts under government control. In many allied countries and regions, there are still high-level mages living in isolation, secretive cultivators hiding in sanctuaries for years. These so-called ‘classical adepts’ remain the biggest headache for governments trying to implement modern registration and professional management systems.”

Gawain sighed. “No matter what, after this, at least the ‘classical adepts’ in the shadow arts worldwide will have to seriously reconsider embracing progress… Those who used to live in isolation, ignoring even the news, will now be beaten down by thousands of shadow dwellers if they turn their backs to experiment alone. If they survive, they’ll likely report to local authorities from now on.”

“The world used to change slowly. A great mage could seclude himself in a tower for twenty years and still emerge as a leader in his field, with the world order he knew still intact. But the world today won’t allow that kind of closed-off ‘pastoral life’ anymore,” Hetty shook her head. “But that’s not the main point. The real question is: what exactly is causing this ‘Great Migration’ of the shadow dwellers?”

“Something major is about to happen—or has already happened—in the Shadow Realm. Considering recent events, I can’t help but think of that ancient deity who has been in seclusion for over a million years… the Lady of Night,” Gawain said thoughtfully. Since receiving Amber’s report yesterday, he had been pondering this. Though lacking concrete evidence, his suspicions had a clear direction from the start.

“Shadow… this is the thread that ties everything together. Since the Lady of Night ‘disappeared’ in ancient times and was seemingly recruited by the Voyagers, she has played a mysterious role in the world’s history. And those equally enigmatic shadow dwellers… the Shadow Hall in the Sky Station… Amber herself—all seem connected by this thread…”

He suddenly recalled that many of these troubling changes seemed to begin the moment Cassandra cleared the thorns around the “Anchor Generator” in the Shadow Hall.

The engineering team in space removed the thorns around the anchor generator, triggering strange phenomena in Amber and the bizarre mass migration in the Shadow Realm. It felt as if a vast, ancient machine had been jammed by foreign matter, and Cassandra’s clearing of the thorns was like removing debris from its gears. With a thunderous roar, the machine, dormant for a million years, finally began to turn again—and some event delayed for a million years seemed finally set in motion.

“You should get back to your work,” Gawain said after a moment of reflection, exhaling softly. He looked up at Hetty. “If there’s any new information about changes in the Shadow Realm, notify me immediately.”

“Yes, ancestor,” Hetty bowed slightly and left the study.

Gawain remained seated behind his desk, lost in thought. The sunlight slanted through the window, casting sharp shadows across his face. He stayed like that for an unknown length of time before suddenly looking up toward a seemingly empty spot in the air. “What’s going on?”

Almost as soon as he spoke, a twisted black rift tore open in the air, and Amber swiftly crawled out.

Gawain watched as the shadow assault goose emerged from the rift. Her long hair, fluttering as if in a windless breeze, gradually shortened, and the golden glow in her eyes dimmed. His brow furrowed slightly. “You still dare to open shadow rifts to come and go? Didn’t you say you were worried that opening rifts might provoke those migrating shadow dwellers?”

“I noticed they’re too busy on the move to care about my rifts,” Amber waved her hands emphatically, then grew serious. “Besides, I have urgent news for you. I couldn’t wait.”

Seeing Amber’s expression, Gawain’s face turned grave. “What’s the situation?”

“Urgent news from Winterhold. The Kingdom of Violet has undergone shocking changes,” Amber panted, speaking rapidly in one breath. “Prandel City was swallowed by the mist last night. The entire Violet Kingdom is currently out of contact. We’ve lost all signals from intelligence outposts. Dozens of Intelligence Bureau agents may have perished—the extraordinary phenomenon level has been raised to ‘suspected divine calamity.’”

Gawain’s expression instantly shifted to stunned disbelief. Though he forced his features into calm, a storm raged inside.

“What does ‘swallowed by the mist’ mean? On what basis is this phenomenon classified as a ‘suspected divine calamity’?” He sprang to his feet, his tone grave. “Wait… why is the news coming from Winterhold? What about our station in North Harbor—”

“Because the initial report came from Modir Wilde,” Amber interrupted before he could finish. She had anticipated his questions. “According to the great adventurer himself, he reached Prandel City on the eve of it being engulfed by the thick fog through dreamwalking. There, he encountered two Intelligence Bureau agents trapped within the phenomenon…”

Over the next few minutes, Amber relayed all the intelligence she had just received through the emergency channel—a bizarre, chilling, and surreal story. If Gawain hadn’t heard it with his own ears, and if the source and transmission path weren’t beyond doubt, he might have dismissed it as a poorly written horror tale concocted by some hack bards—like those dragons who fled Talrond years ago, scamming food and drink.

But somehow, it all seemed to be really happening.

A violet city swallowed by an eerie mist, where strange “messengers” and towering black flames relentlessly “erased” everything in their path… Supernatural phenomena began spreading outward from the City of a Thousand Towers, soon engulfing the entire Violet Kingdom… Inland cities vanished without a trace, “existence” itself disappeared, “historical memories” were wiped clean, and the very “reality” of things was twisted and rewritten…

All of this unfolded quietly beyond the reach of mortal civilization’s gaze. And by the time people began to notice, it had already transformed into something indescribably alien.

In fact, if not for a certain great adventurer who, by a twist of fate, intervened in this phenomenon through a “dream,” none of this intelligence might have ever reached the outside world—Amber’s side only knew that all Violet Kingdom military intelligence outposts had gone dark, and who knew when the truth would finally be uncovered!

But then again… was that adventurer’s intervention really just a twist of fate?

Gawain thought about the peculiarities surrounding Modril Wilde, about his connection to the Lady of the Night, and about the shadowy figures mentioned in the reports—those shadow-dwellers who appeared within the thick fog…

And the “Great Migration” of the shadow-dwellers—their mass movement northward.

Suddenly, countless clues seemed to converge, and Gawain felt he could piece them together into a coherent whole.

“Our intelligence is still incomplete,” Amber’s voice came from beside him. “Duchess Victoria herself has led a team to the Violet border to investigate. That adventurer is with the fleet.

“At this point, we still don’t know what’s become of Prandel City after it was swallowed by the fog, nor the status of other parts of Violet, especially the border cities that maintain trade with the Northern Port. Modril only knows what happened deep within the mist. When he wandered through the dreamscape, he couldn’t see beyond the fog, and before it lifted, his mind returned to Winterhold…”

“There are two intelligence agents still alive,” Gawain suddenly said. “At least, Modril saw them escape the fog alive.”

“Yes, there should be two survivors,” Amber nodded. “We’re not sure if any agents survived in the other border cities, but the two Modril encountered in the dream did break through. They’re likely waiting for support on the beaches outside Prandel, and they hold critical intelligence. Duchess Victoria has vowed to do everything she can to find them.”

“Let’s hope those two survivors are safe,” Gawain said, frowning deeply as his fingers tapped the armrest absentmindedly. “Being swallowed by the fog, disappearing in black flames, accessible through dreams, the twisted and rewritten ‘reality’… and the faint but unmistakable connection to the Lady of the Night behind it all… Amber, I’m starting to entertain some shocking theories.”

“Shocking theories?” Amber looked at him, stunned. “If even you think your own theory is ‘shocking,’ then it must be truly something… What are you thinking?”

Gawain stopped tapping the armrest. He met Amber’s eyes and spoke slowly, deliberately: “Tell me… does the Violet Kingdom even really exist?”

(End of chapter)