🕯️ The Nightly Storyteller ChroniclesDinner with Silas Vorne

The invitation came sealed in wax — black, stamped with a sigil shaped like a broken crown. When Val slid the envelope across the table, my chest tightened. I already knew who it was from before I opened it.

Inside, written in clean, deliberate script:

You are cordially invited to dinner with Silas Vorne.
A man must have a name.
Your chauffeur, Mr. Harris, will arrive at midnight.

The name almost made me laugh. “Harris.” As generic as a fast-food menu. But when I looked up, the man in the suit — Harris — didn’t blink. His tie was immaculate, his posture stiff… and the faint scratch on his neck pulsed red like something had clawed him in a dream.

“I appreciate the offer,” I said, sliding the card back into the envelope. “But I work tomorrow.”

Val didn’t even hesitate.
“Your job burned down, remember?” she said flatly. “We can go.”

The air seemed to thin when Harris adjusted his cufflinks and replied, “If you leave now, you’ll arrive an hour before sunup.” He said it looking at Nyra. The way his lips curled — like he knew something about her the rest of us didn’t.

Then his gaze flicked to Kaelen.
“Sorry. No pets.”

The silence after that could have cut glass.
Kaelen didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just stared at Harris. And in that stillness, the scarab necklace against my chest seared hotter, as if trying to warn me.

Val leaned forward, her bat resting against her knee.
“If you want us to come with you,” she said, her voice calm but edged, “then he comes with us.” She jerked her chin toward Kaelen, whose unblinking stare never left Harris.

For the first time, Harris’ smile faltered.

My phone buzzed. A single text from the number I still didn’t know.

Be careful.

I should have walked away right then. But we agreed.

---

The car ride was suffocating. The leather smelled too clean, like bleach trying to mask something older. The windows were tinted blacker than obsidian. Not even the stars could pierce through. The engine hummed low, steady, like a heartbeat stretched into eternity.

Time warped. A minute felt like an hour. Conversation died before it could start. Kaelen never stopped watching Harris. Val’s grip on her bat never loosened. And Nyra… she sat stiff, eyes fixed forward, as though hearing something none of us could.

When at last the car slowed, my stomach sank. The mansion loomed ahead — an iron-black silhouette with spires that pierced the night sky. The gates creaked open on their own, like they had been waiting centuries just for us.

Harris pulled to a stop. The door unlocked with a mechanical click.

And there he was.
Silas Vorne.

Tall, pale, sharp as a blade in a tailored midnight suit. His smile too perfect. His eyes too bright.

“Welcome,” he said, stretching his arms as though greeting old friends. “I am so very happy to see you.”

The words rolled out smooth as silk. But my skin prickled with goosebumps. Every instinct in me screamed the same thing:

He was lying.

The doors of the mansion swung open on their own. The shadows inside seemed to lean outward, waiting to swallow us whole.

And still… we stepped inside.

The door closed behind us with a final, echoing thud.

---

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http://thenightlystoryteller.blogspot.com/2025/05/through-red-and-blue-eyes-glimpse-into.html

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