Published at 14th of November 2026 7:44 am

Chapter 2188: Davos Memorial

This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl

Emily stood before the vast windows of her office in the Lords’ Castle, high atop Mount Davos.

The entire city stretched out before her. From this height, she could see the winding streets, the countless buildings, and the distant harbor where ships came and went.

Davos. Her family. And she failed to protect it.

Emily lowered her gaze and closed her eyes.

The images came unbidden. The screams. The bloodshed. The bodies scattered across the floating island. The faces of those who had looked to her for protection, only to die before her eyes.

She was the Witch of Davos. The Known Lord. She had survived countless dangers and overcome countless enemies in her long life.

Yet when Davos needed her most, she had failed.

And Adeline...

Emily’s eyes glistened with tears.

She remembered a little girl in dirty clothes and hollow cheeks, a child from the slums of the Outer Borough. A girl who possessed little more than a stubborn streak and a pair of defiant eyes.

Emily had taken her in. She had raised her, guided her, and watched her grow into the woman who would one day become the Lady of the Sapphire Tower.

Adeline had her flaws. She could be irascible, arrogant, vain, and insufferably proud. But none of that mattered.

She had loved Adeline like her own daughter.

And now, her daughter was dead.

Her head had been severed and delivered to Emily in a gift box, as though her life had been nothing more than a token to be exchanged.

I should have protected you.

That thought repeated itself in her mind.

I should have protected all of you.

She had been so focused on maintaining the balance of power in Davos that she had failed to see the knife approaching from within. The City Watch, the very guardians sworn to defend their home, had betrayed them. And the enemy had used that betrayal to slaughter the people she had sworn to protect.

For a long moment, Emily stood in silence, staring at the city beneath her. Alone and vulnerable.

Then a presence appeared in the office.

And Emily was back to being the Witch again.

"Ghost."

"My lady." The man went down on one knee.

Emily continued to gaze out the window. "I hope the traitors are being treated with all the kindness they deserve."

"Yes," Ghost replied. "And more."

Emily’s lips curled into a cold smile. "Good."

She looked down at Davos once more. She could not bring back the dead. She could not undo the bloodshed or erase the scars left by the Red Gala.

But she could ensure that those responsible would never forget what they had done.

And she would make certain that no one ever dared to do such a thing to her again.

"The traitors didn’t know much," Ghost reported. "Norwood has been careful. But we know enough to begin our counterattack and root out the smaller rats infesting the city."

Emily nodded. She had expected as much.

Nigel Norwood was no fool. A man who could orchestrate a coup of this scale would hardly entrust his entire plan to a handful of collaborators. In fact, if not for the intervention of the Warden of the West, he would have succeeded.

Still, they had something to work with now. And Ghost was one of the few people in Davos she could trust with her life. He had served her from the shadows long before she became Known Lord. He had never betrayed her trust.

"First, root out every spy hidden in our midst. The three traitors have given us their identities, contacts, and safe houses. I want every last one of them found. Bring them in for questioning. You have my permission to use whatever means necessary."

"As you command, my lady."

"Next, send a missive to the ruler of Dark Port." Emily turned away from the window. "An enemy of an enemy is a friend, they say."

Ghost offered no comment. He simply nodded in obedience.

"And finally..." Emily paused. "Summon the leaders of the Brotherhood’s cell in the city."

For the first time since entering the office, Ghost showed a hint of surprise. His white mask remained expressionless, but his posture changed imperceptibly.

"The Twilight Brotherhood, my lady?"

"Yes."

Emily walked back to her desk and took a seat.

"There will be a purge in the coming days. The traitors, their accomplices, and everyone who helped them will be dealt with. Their properties will be seized, their businesses dismantled, and their positions left vacant. That will leave a power vacuum. And you know this city well enough to understand what happens when one appears."

The merchants and other organizations would scramble for influence. Rival factions would turn on one another. Those who had spent years waiting for an opportunity would bare their fangs and tear into whatever remained.

Emily had no intention of letting them turn Davos into their personal battlefield, especially when the city was so weak presently.

"I would rather see the Brotherhood grow stronger than hand that opportunity to the other cutthroat merchants in the city," she concluded.

Ghost was silent for a few long moments before bowing. "Understood, my lady."

"Good." Emily nodded. "Dismissed."

***

Many people had gathered at Davos Memorial.

Rows of fresh graves stretched across the cemetery, their newly carved headstones standing in silence. Some were surrounded by flowers. Others had nothing but grieving family members kneeling before them.

The Red Gala had claimed many lives. And now, Davos was left to bury its dead.

Genevieve stood before a cluster of graves, dressed entirely in black. Her auburn hair rustled in the wind as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Channing Oakley. And his family.

She had known them for years. She remembered their faces, their voices, the little moments they had shared. And now, all that remained were names carved into stone.

Adam stood beside her, silently supporting her.

In her arms, Vesper hung his head. The little fellow was unusually quiet, his pudgy hands clutching her clothes as he stared at the graves—especially the two tiny ones.

"It’s not your fault, Vesper." Her voice trembled.

"If anything, it’s mine for being so weak..."

Vesper looked up at her. "Kree..."

Genevieve forced a smile, but it did little to hide the sorrow in her eyes. She pulled him closer and rested her cheek against his head.

Adam said nothing. He simply stood by her side.

There were no words that could ease her grief. No comforting platitudes that could bring the dead back to life. And he had no right to tell her how she should feel.

After paying their respects to Channing and his family, the three moved to another grave.

It stood a short distance away, marked by a freshly carved headstone. The stone was still pale, its edges sharp and untouched by time.

Adam stopped before it, and his lips curled into a smile.

Genevieve’s grip on Vesper tightened, and she began to sob.

Carved into the stone were a few simple words that summed up the life of a man who was no longer with them.

Michael Bolt.

Son, Friend, and Guardian.

Share