Chapter 70: The Veiled Hand
Six Months Earlier…
The Soul Arena's observation deck shimmered with subdued energy as Ramses stood with hands clasped behind his back, a silent sentinel among the watching elite. His golden hair shimmered under the white crystal light, but it was his eyes—calm, calculated, depthless—that truly made him terrifying.
Rank 9.
4th Year.
10th Spirit Cycle.
And a silent blade of the Veil.
He watched as Cassandra Ikemba dismantled Rank 26—a veteran Fourth Year—with terrifying composure and brutal grace. Null Field had erupted into existence for the first time that day, a colorless, soul-strangling force that stunned the audience. That win had sent a ripple across the academy.
He had studied Cassandra for some time. Her heritage made her valuable. Her apathy toward politics made her a threat. Her rejection of the Soul Board was the final straw.
But Ramses never acted rashly. The Veil did not operate with brute force.
They used leverage.
Misdirection.
People.
So he had chosen Mira Hawthorne.
—
"Cassandra Ikemba is gaining traction far too quickly," he said, standing alone with Mira in the old east tower garden—one of the quietest places on the Academy grounds.
Mira leaned against a white pillar, brushing wind-blown strands of brown hair from her eyes. "So? She's strong. Annoying. Arrogant. But strong."
"She embarrassed Rank 26," Ramses said coolly. "You're Rank 7. A top board member. And a Hawthorne."
Mira frowned. "You're saying I should challenge her?"
"I'm saying she needs to be reminded of where she stands," Ramses said softly, walking past her. "Before her little momentum becomes a storm."
He stopped. Turned slightly. "I've seen the way you look at her."
Mira flinched. "That's none of your business."
"Oh, but it is." Ramses's voice was velvet over steel. "You could dominate her publicly… or privately. Just ensure she breaks. Either way, the Ikemba name loses face."
He smiled faintly. "You do want her to notice you, don't you?"
Mira didn't respond.
She didn't need to.
Ramses had already planted the seed.
—
Present Day
Lafrosa – Central Soul Island
Ikemba Family Estate – Outskirts
The night air was crisp, tinged with the scent of salt from the distant coast. Ramses stood cloaked in shadow, leaning against an obsidian wall near the lower gardens of the Ikemba Estate.
From this vantage point, the great silver spire of the main residence rose in solemn silence—formidable and ancient. The home of Jane Ikemba. The Progenitor herself.
Ramses stared, then chuckled quietly.
"So predictable," he whispered.
The Mira incident had played out better than expected. Her obsession, Cassandra's cold rejection, and the lingering rumors all fed into the narrative he'd been weaving from the shadows.
Divide. Distract. Destabilize.
"Step one… complete."
He turned, walking slowly through the moonlit path that snaked toward the estate's outer barrier.
"Ikemba pride makes them blind."
Then his gaze lifted, a smile stretching across his lips—sharp and knowing.
"Next… will be the anomaly."
He tapped his temple lightly.
"Karen Lockwood."
The wind stirred around him, his golden hair rustling as he passed into the dark.
"She doesn't even know what she is yet."
And with a final step, he vanished from the path, leaving nothing but fading footprints and a whisper caught on the breeze—
"It's all part of the plan."