Revendreth had no sunlight. This land of atonement in the Shadowlands had always been a pitch-black place that never saw the light of day.
Yet at some unknown point, light long absent had appeared in this dark land.
Thick clouds blanketed the sky, and several dazzling shafts of Holy Light pierced the gaps between them, shining down upon the earth.
The Venthyr loathed that accursed Holy Light. When it touched their ashen skin, black smoke rose from it.
"It looks like we won't be able to set out today either." The Chancellor looked toward the Sanguine Depths and shook his head in disappointment.
The slender hunter concealed in the shadows leaped forward. Mistlike darkness enveloped her body as she appeared at the Chancellor's right hand.
"If Prince Renathal doesn't receive this shipment, they'll grow suspicious of who we really are. You should give some thought to which matters more: our relationship with the prince, or dealing with these outsiders." The Fearstalker reminded the Chancellor not to let Renathal catch on. Otherwise, the sinners imprisoned in the Sanguine Depths might very well spiral out of control.
The Chancellor habitually rubbed his smooth forehead and asked gravely, "You really haven't uncovered any information about their background?"
The Fearstalker shook her head through gritted teeth. "I sent everything we know about them to Grand Proctor Berelia in a confidential letter. Even she has no idea who these people from Ardenweald are."
The Chancellor sighed softly and smoothed the long hair on either side of his forehead.
"Then stall them until Sire Denathrius returns. But we'll still have to take them to the Sanguine Depths." The Chancellor prepared for the worst. If Sire Denathrius returned soon enough, perhaps he could spare himself some trouble.
The Fearstalker nodded. "Then I'll go ahead and make preparations.