Nyx, Witch and Ronan's Closest Advisor

  The Web Weaver of Veil Fortuna

  While The Lux Arcana was Ronan’s command center and The Midnight Mirage was Malrik’s domain, The Veil Fortuna in New Orleans belonged to Nyx.

  It was more than just another casino—it was their empire’s spiritual and financial heart. If Ronan was the king of their supernatural domain and Dorian, its enforcer, then Nyx was the mind that kept it all together.

  The Woman Behind the Power

  Nyx was a vision of cold elegance and quiet control. With sharp, dark eyes that missed nothing and a smirk that could cut sharper than a blade, she exuded a presence that made even the most hardened supernatural figures tread carefully. Her short, jet-black hair framed her angular face, contrasting the glowing sigils that lined the walls behind her—the marks of the powerful enchantments she wove into every aspect of their empire.

  She dressed in tailored suits, always black, with sharp lines reflecting the precision with which she handled business. Silver piercings gleamed against her ears, a subtle reminder that though she was a witch, she was nothing like the others. She had no coven or circle—only power and control, which was enough.

  Nyx moved with absolute certainty, and each step was measured, and each decision was calculated. She never raised her voice unless she intended to end a conversation for good. When she spoke, people listened. And when she smiled—a rare, knowing smirk—it was usually because she had already won.

  A Childhood Lost, A Bond Forged

  Nyx had met Ronan as a child in Blackthorn Orphanage, a cold and cruel place where those without a place in the world were discarded. The orphanage’s matron believed in obedience through punishment, and magic—especially wild, untamed magic—was seen as something to be crushed.

  Nyx had been a survivor, even then. Clever, sharp-tongued, and fiercely independent, she learned early that the only way to survive was to be brighter than those who sought to break her. She and Ronan had understood each other in a way no one else had—they were both unwanted, both more than what the world believed them to be.

  But fate, as always, was cruel.

  The night Ronan’s mark of the Eclipsed One formed, chaos erupted. The orphanage had never been safe but became a slaughterhouse that night. A single ally—a nurse who had cared for Ronan—helped him escape before he could be executed.

  Nyx had fought to go with him, but they had been torn apart.

  She hadn’t seen him again for years. By then, she had changed. They both had.

  Reunion in the Underworld

  Years later, when their paths crossed again, neither of them was the same.

  Ronan had built his empire from the ground up, and Nyx had carved out her place in the supernatural underworld of New Orleans. She had made herself indispensable. Where others saw chaos, Nyx saw patterns. Where others chased power, she controlled it from the shadows.

  When they reunited, there had been no hesitation. No wariness. Just a single moment of recognition—a bond reforged without words.

  Ronan had trusted her immediately, and she had taken her place at his side.

  The Architect of Power

  Nyx wasn’t a warrior like Dorian, nor a phantom of legend like Malrik. But she was just as dangerous.

  She handled the financials, the logistics, and the intricate web of magical protections that kept their empire untouchable.

  The Veil Fortuna was her kingdom, where power was negotiated with smiles and debts were settled long before blades were drawn. She ensured the stability of Ronan’s growing domain, crafting deals with supernatural factions, laundering money through mortal channels, and weaving enchantments so complex that even the most seasoned witches dared not cross her.

  Unlike Malrik, who ruled through fear, Nyx ruled through control. Without her knowledge, no deal was made in the supernatural underworld, and no favor was given without her price.

  A Witch Without a Coven

  Nyx had never needed a coven.

  Witches in New Orleans operated in circles, bound by ancient bloodlines and secret rituals. But Nyx had learned early that loyalty to tradition meant weakness. She had built her power, piece by piece, weaving herself into every layer of supernatural society without ever swearing fealty to any of them.

  She was feared because no one knew where her true allegiance lay.

  But Ronan did.

  She had chosen his side the moment they reunited. Not because of fate, not because of destiny—but because he had never betrayed her.

  The Silent War

  As the Thalrasi loomed closer, the supernatural world braced for war.

  Nyx had always known this day would come. Empires rose and fell; survival meant knowing when to move before the storm arrived.

  She wasn’t just planning for war but ensuring they won before the first strike.

  And when the time came, she would ensure the Veil Fortuna didn’t just survive.

  It would stand long after the ashes of the Thalrasi had fallen.

  With Nyx running The Veil Fortuna, Dorian standing beside Ronan at the Lux Arcana, and Malrik keeping the Midnight Mirage locked in an iron grip, the resistance had become unstoppable.

  The Thalrasi may have ruled for centuries, but Ronan and his allies were more than prepared to burn their reign to the ground.

  Valarian Graeves, An Unseelie Fae diplomat and spy

  The Meeting of Power: How Ronan and Dorian Recruited Valarian Graves

  Some debts are never repaid, only leveraged at the right moment.

  Ronan and Dorian didn’t just find Valarian Graves in Vienna. They knew where he would be because Ronan had once saved his life. Years ago, before Valarian had entirely severed ties with the Seelie Court, a botched political maneuver had left him on the wrong side of a power struggle. The Unseelie had wanted his head, and the Seelie had wanted to erase his existence. He would have been a historical footnote without Ronan, who had given him sanctuary when no one else would.

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  Now, it was time to call in the favor.

  They found him in a private lounge, where supernatural elites gathered under starlight chandeliers and whispered promises—the scent of aged wine and expensive cigars mixed with the quiet hum of an enchanted jazz quartet. Valarian sat alone, draped in a tailored obsidian suit, swirling a glass of something expensive and undoubtedly stolen.

  He smirked as they approached, tilting his head in mock surprise. “Ah, my favorite wolf and his fanged enforcer. Have you come to collect?”

  Dorian dropped into the seat across from him, flashing a grin. “That depends. Do you still believe in fair trade?”

  Ronan remained standing, arms crossed. “We need you.”

  Valarian exhaled, taking a slow sip of his drink before setting it down with a quiet clink. “Need is such an intimate word.” His sharp golden eyes flickered with something unreadable. “Let’s pretend for a moment that I’m intrigued. What’s in it for me?”

  Dorian chuckled. “The satisfaction of being on the right side of history?”

  Valarian scoffed. “I much prefer the satisfaction of being alive and exceptionally wealthy.”

  Ronan leaned forward, his voice steady. “Then consider this an investment. The Thalrasi’s grip is slipping, and when they fall, everything changes. The old alliances, the black-market dealings, the supernatural hierarchy—you can either help reshape it or be left playing catch-up.”

  Valarian studied them, his usual smirk fading into something far more thoughtful. The Unseelie had taught him survival, but Ronan had taught him loyalty.

  Finally, he smiled, slow and knowing. “You make an excellent case, my friends.” He raised his glass in a silent toast. “Very well. I’ll play your game. But let’s make one thing clear—I don’t take orders, and if this all goes sideways, I will disappear before the first drop of blood stains the marble.”

  Dorian grinned. “We wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  And just like that, the most dangerous diplomat in the supernatural world was theirs.

  Astrid Vale, A powerful oracle-witch

  The Oracle of Shadows – Astrid Vale

  Astrid Vale was a woman of prophecy and power, a name spoken in hushed reverence even among the most powerful supernatural beings. A high-ranking oracle once revered by the witches, she had abandoned their rigid traditions to forge her path, choosing solitude over servitude. Now, she resided within The Veil Fortuna, her visions shaping the course of the resistance, her knowledge guiding Ronan through unseen threats.

  The Woman Who Sees Too Much

  Astrid looked like someone who had stared into the abyss and had it stare back. Her silver hair cascaded in wild waves, untouched by age, framing a face marked by wisdom and the weight of countless visions. Her piercing, storm-gray eyes held the gaze of anyone who dared look too long, their depths swirling with secrets only she could see.

  She was always adorned in layers of intricately woven robes lined with runes of protection and power. Heavy golden chains draped around her neck, each pendant an artifact tied to a vision she had foreseen—or a fate she had altered. A single black jewel sat at the center of her forehead, glowing faintly whenever her sight drifted beyond the present.

  To the untrained eye, she was an old mystic, a relic of a forgotten age. But those who truly knew her understood she was the last of her kind.

  An Oracle Without a Coven

  Once, Astrid had stood at the head of the Celestial Coven, the most powerful order of seers. Witches sought her guidance, and kings and queens bent their knees to glimpse their futures.

  But power, as she learned, was a dangerous burden.

  The covens did not ask for her wisdom—they demanded it. They tried to chain her sight, to mold her visions into weapons for their agendas. The more she refused, the more they feared her. And they cast her out when she foresaw something they did not wish to know.

  She did not fight them. She walked away.

  No longer bound by their politics, Astrid disappeared from the world, retreating into the shadows. She chose exile over servitude, secrets over chains. And in that silence, she watched the tides of fate shift.

  Then, she saw him.

  The Eclipsed One.

  She saw Ronan.

  Why She Chose the Resistance

  Astrid never revealed why she aligned herself with Ronan’s cause.

  Some believed she had foreseen the fall of the Thalrasi and wished to stand on the side of destiny. Others whispered that she had a personal stake in the war and had lost something—or someone—to the Thalrasi long ago.

  But the truth?

  Only Astrid knew. And she wasn’t telling.

  What mattered was that she had chosen The Fortuna Veil as her stronghold, her visions guiding the rebellion like a whisper from fate itself. She was Ronan’s unseen weapon, the one who predicted enemy movements, uncovered betrayals before they could take root, and glimpsed the outcomes of choices before they were made.

  Yet, for all her power, her loyalty was an enigma.

  Ronan trusted her. But even he knew—oracles never revealed everything they saw.

  The Burden of Sight

  Astrid had seen countless futures, but the one she dreaded most was her own.

  For all her power, she had never once seen her fate. And if she had learned anything in all her years of prophecy, it was this. If the future refuses to reveal itself, it is because the ending has yet to be written.

  The war against the Thalrasi was coming. And with it, a choice that even she could not foresee.

  The Unbreakable Fortresses – Security of the Sanctuary Casinos

  The Sanctuary Casinos were more than just places of business—they were fortresses designed to be wholly off-limits and impenetrable to the Thalrasi. Over the years, Ronan and his inner circle had ensured that these safe havens remained untouched by enemy hands.

  These weren’t just casinos. They were the last strongholds of supernatural freedom.

  Ancient Wards and Enchantments

  Nyx and a circle of trusted witches wove layered protections around each casino, using both old and new magic to make them impervious to Thalrasi influence.

  Any Thalrasi agent who stepped inside would immediately feel searing pain, nausea, and disorientation, marking them as intruders.

  The spells included memory fog enchantments, ensuring that even if a Thalrasi operative attempted reconnaissance, they would retain no knowledge of the sanctuaries once they left.

  Blood sigils embedded in the walls were a constant barrier, preventing forced entry, teleportation, or mind control magic.

  Hexes were woven into every inch of the architecture, designed to recognize intent. Any being who entered with hostility in their heart would find themselves weakened, lost, or worse.

  Neutral Ground Pact

  Decades ago, supernatural factions—including rogue vampire covens, mage enclaves, and werewolf packs—declared the casino’s neutral territory.

  Even those loyal to the Thalrasi could not act against the sanctuaries without violating ancient supernatural laws.

  Any attack on a sanctuary would result in an all-out war among supernatural factions, something even the Thalrasi were unwilling to risk.

  The sanctuaries became more than just safe havens—they became the only places where supernaturals could meet without the threat of immediate violence.

  Concealed Locations and False Fronts

  The casinos operated under multiple layers of false identities, appearing as typical high-end establishments to the human world.

  The resistance strongholds were hidden beneath each casino, accessible only to those who knew the pathways and secret codes.

  Every employee and guest was vetted through layers of supernatural detection magic, ensuring that no Thalrasi sympathizers could slip through unnoticed.

  The entrances to the underground sanctuaries shifted daily, making it impossible for anyone without clearance to find them twice.

  Every illusion was carefully crafted—from human-facing business licenses to government records, the casinos were ghosts within the system, hiding in plain sight.

  A Security Force Unlike Any Other

  The sanctuaries weren’t just protected by spells but by warriors.

  The Eternal Watch, a secret faction of warriors recruited from all supernatural backgrounds, acted as the last line of defense should the Thalrasi ever attempt to breach the sanctuaries.

  These elite enforcers included werewolves, demons, vampires, witches, and fae trained in supernatural combat and silent elimination tactics.

  Every casino had its internal surveillance system, enhanced with supernatural detection magic, capable of identifying intruders even before they stepped inside.

  The Fortuna Veil, Midnight Mirage, and Lux Arcana each had a security network, but they all reported directly to Ronan and Dorian.

  The Fear of Retaliation

  The most significant deterrent to Thalrasi interference wasn’t just magic or warriors—it was Ronan himself.

  Anyone who crossed him and violated the sanctity of the sanctuaries met a swift and brutal end.

  Stories of what happened to Thalrasi operatives who tried to infiltrate the casinos spread like wildfire.

  Some disappeared without a trace.

  Others were sent back—broken, bleeding, and barely alive, carrying a single warning: “Stay out.”

  Even among those who called themselves loyal to the Thalrasi, fear of retaliation kept them from daring to test the sanctuaries’ boundaries.

  A War on the Horizon

  With these safeguards, the Sanctuary Casinos remained the only places supernatural beings could be safe beyond Thalrasi’s control.

  But Ronan knew the truth.

  Sanctuaries only remain safe until war makes them battlegrounds.

  And as tensions mounted and war loomed on the horizon, he knew it was only a matter of time before the Thalrasi tested their defenses.

  When they did, they would learn the actual cost of crossing the untouchable.