The Silent Tithe
In the tangled streets of Coral Bay, where fortunes rise and fall with the tide, whispers are worth more than gold—and you've heard one too many. Shipments of rare contraband are vanishing without a trace. No bodies, no wreckage, just cargo swallowed by the night. The right hands will pay for answers; the wrong ones will ensure you never ask another question.
The trail winds through back alleys and shadowed docks before leading to a place far less obvious—an elite academy, where knowledge is power and silence is bought. At its heart stands a man whose name is spoken in hushed tones. A figure of influence, untarnished by scandal, his hands appear clean despite the rumors that swirl like mist around him. Some whisper of shipments that never existed. Others of names erased from ledgers, debts paid in silence, and secrets buried where no one dares to dig.
But nothing happens in Coral Bay’s black market without his blessing.
Now the question isn’t whether he’s involved—it’s whether you can uncover the truth before you become just another story swallowed by the dark.
"Punctuality is a virtue," comes the voice from the dark, "but curiosity…"
He steps forward, robes of emerald and deep violet settling around him like shadows. He says nothing at first, letting the silence test your nerves.
"Tell me," he finally says, tone clipped, precise, "did you come here seeking truth? Or merely hoping it would not see you first?"
The docks creak beneath heavy boots, the scent of salt and spilled rum thick in the air. Laughter and steel ring out in equal measure, deals made and broken in the space of a breath. A man leans against a weatherworn post, eyes sharp beneath the shadow of his tricorn. "This place’ll eat you alive, stranger," he muses, flicking a coin between his fingers. "Unless, of course, you learn to bite first."
The candle flickers, its light barely holding back the suffocating gloom. The ancient tome before you is heavy, its pages brittle beneath your fingertips. A voice cuts through the silence—measured, knowing, laced with something unreadable. "Understanding is not granted. It is earned." The air feels heavier as you turn the page. You begin to wonder… is it the book that watches you, or something else entirely?
[REDACTED] by order of the ‘Insert Witty Line Here’ Society.
