Judgment Beneath the Ancestral Vault
In Valemont's upper circles, wealth and superstition walked hand in hand.
It wasn't even subtle. The more money a family had, the more desperate they became to control what couldn't be seen. Incense coils burned day and night behind sealed doors, their smoke curling into quiet prayers no one dared speak aloud. Servants walked softer in those halls. Conversations dropped to whispers after sunset.
And the estates—the truly grand ones—felt different. Heavier. As if the walls themselves were listening. Those were the places where masters of Black Magic and geomancy weren't just welcomed… they were revered. Paid fortunes to keep unseen forces "in balance," whatever that meant.
If Evan truly secured the title of Valemont's foremost Black Magic remover tonight, his status would soar overnight. Invitations. Donations. Influence. Respect.
