Cale sat on the edge of the bed, strapping the last piece of black cloth around his wrist. The room they were renting was quiet except for the muffled noise of the city outside—the capital was alive with celebration. Even from here, Cale could hear laughter, drums, and the faint hum of music drifting in from the main roads. The King's 60th birthday was tomorrow, and the entire capital was dressing itself in banners and excitement.
Regan had just finished sketching out their entry route with bits of charcoal on a scrap of parchment. "We'll move from the east side, where the wall is lower. There's a patch of shadow there, and from what I could gather earlier, not many guards patrol that sector at night." He looked up, tossing Cale a bundle of dark cloth. "Wear this. We'll need to mask up. Can't have them recognizing us later."
Cale caught it and nodded. "Is that really necessary?"
Regan chuckled. "You're sneaking into a big-name merchant's villa in the middle of the capital during a citywide celebration. You want your face posted on every bulletin board tomorrow morning?"
"Fair enough," Cale muttered, pulling the mask over his face.
Regan stood and headed toward the bathroom. "Give me a minute to get ready. Then we move."
The door clicked shut.
As if on cue, a shimmer of shadow swirled beside him, and Emis emerged, the scraggly black cat form perched lazily on the window frame.
"Are you ready?"Emis asked, voice smooth, tail flicking.
Cale didn't answer right away. He stared at the map, his brow furrowed, then slowly nodded. "Yes. I'm ready."
From above, a soft flutter of wings touched the air, and Mira landed silently on the windowsill beside Emis. Her sleek feathers gleamed even in the low light.
"Remember,"Mira said, her voice like a whisper through windchimes, "the city is filled with noise tonight. The celebration has drawn everyone out. But it also means your sight will be challenged. Too much energy. Too many minds."
Cale nodded, more firmly this time. "Even if I get overwhelmed again... I have you two. And Regan. I'm not alone."
Emis raised an eyebrow, amused."Getting sentimental now, are we?"
But Mira just tilted her head, as if pleased. "That answer will take you far, Oculen."
Just then, the bathroom door creaked open, and Regan reappeared, adjusting the dark scarf around his neck. "You talking to yourself again?"
Cale stood, smirking faintly. "You ready?"
Regan grinned. "Born ready. Let's go infiltrate this merchant."
They stepped out into the night, cloaked by the chaos of celebration, slipping through the cracks of a kingdom that had no idea what shadows moved beneath its joy.
__________
Rosanna had grown used to silence. Too used to the dark. Her world had become one of dripping water, of the cold seeping into her bones, and the musty scent of damp stone and rot. Time no longer existed in the shadows of her cell. Days, nights—all of it blended together into a timeless, numb gray.
But that silence shattered when the heavy clang of iron echoed through the underground chamber. Her eyes snapped open.
She jerked upright, her back stiff from sleeping curled on the unforgiving floor. A loud scrape followed, the groan of something massive being dragged across the stone. She blinked rapidly, trying to pierce the dimness that defined the place. There—just outside the cell's bars, in the wide open space that had always remained eerily empty—something was being assembled.
Her breath caught.
A stone altar.
Four men were maneuvering the structure into place, placing each slab with grim precision. It was ancient-looking, carved with runes she couldn't decipher. Black veins twisted across the stone surface like dried blood.
"No," she whispered. "No, no, no..."
They were going to use it.
Her heart pounded. A nauseating wave of dread rolled through her. Was this what they'd been waiting for all this time? Was this what they were keeping her for?
Sacrifice?
Her hands trembled. She gripped the bars and tried to steady her breath. Across from her, in the next cell over, sat the boy. Iven.
He was curled in the same posture she always found him in. Head bowed, arms wrapped tightly around his legs, as if trying to disappear into himself.
"Hey!" she hissed, voice sharp and desperate.
No response.
Rosanna slammed her palm against the bars. "Hey! Did you see that? Do you see what they're doing?"
Iven didn't move.
Rosanna clenched her teeth. Her voice dropped to a growl, low and bitter. "If you want to keep sitting there, waiting like some obedient little lamb, go ahead. Keep your head down and wait for them to decide you're no longer useful. But not me."
She stood, shaky but fueled by something raw and fierce.
"I'm not going to die in here," she said, louder now. "I'm going to get out. I don't care if they catch me trying. I'd rather die fighting to live than rot like this."
Still, Iven didn't speak. But his head lifted.
Their eyes met.
Rosanna's voice softened, but the heat behind it remained. "I'm leaving this place, Iven. One way or another. That fire they tried to smother in me—it's still there. And I'm not done yet."
A flicker of something passed through the boy's gaze—a tremor of recognition, or perhaps guilt. He didn't respond. But he was listening.
Rosanna turned away, fists clenched.
She had no plan.
No weapon.
But she had her fire back.
And that was the first step toward freedom.
_____________
The wall on the eastern side of the villa loomed over them, but not impossibly so. Cale gripped the ledge, hoisting himself over with silent precision. Regan followed right behind him, nimble and practiced. They dropped into the garden on the other side with barely a sound. The villa was dark.
Too dark.
They exchanged a glance. No windows lit. No lanterns flickering. And yet—outside, the perimeter had been crawling with guards.
"That's not normal," Regan whispered.
Cale nodded. "Something's wrong."
They moved together through the shadowed halls, navigating with quiet steps and half-held breaths. The air inside was stale, thick with dust and something else—something cloying. A faint metallic tang hung in the silence.
They reached a hallway lined with closed doors. Regan motioned to split.
Cale stopped him with a hand on his arm. He forgot Regan hadn't known that Rosanna was kept in the basement. "Let's start with the basement."
Regan raised an eyebrow. "I thought we were going to cover more ground by splitting up."
"Think about it," Cale said, voice firm but low. "If someone was keeping prisoners, wouldn't the basement be the obvious place?"
Regan looked at him, assessing, then finally gave a short nod. "Alright. Basement it is."
They moved down the corridor, locating a narrow staircase hidden behind an unassuming wooden door. The descent was cold and quiet, and the darkness below felt different—thicker, somehow. A silence that pressed in.
As they reached the bottom, Cale's steps slowed.
Still no guards. Still no voices. This was not normal. No—something was definitely wrong in that place. Why was the place so quiet? It was almost as if someone was deliberately planning a surprise for them.
The corridor opened into a wide underground chamber. The moment their eyes adjusted, both of them stopped.
In the center of the room stood an altar.
Carved stone, slick with some oily sheen. Runes twisted into unnatural shapes spiraled along its sides, and heavy iron restraints were bolted into its surface. It radiated something foul.
Cale swallowed. His throat was dry.
Regan took a step back. "What... the hell is this place?"
Neither of them spoke further. They didn't have to.
Whatever this was—whoever had built it—they weren't just dealing with kidnappers.
They were dealing with something far worse.
Then—a slow, mocking clap.
Cale and Regan whipped their heads toward the sound. From the shadows, a figure emerged, stepping forward with casual elegance.
"Bravo," a familiar voice said. "Truly brave of you to come all this way."
The light revealed her.
Red hair. Immaculate posture. And a smile that held nothing but malice.
"You," Cale breathed, eyes narrowing. "From the facility."
"The name's Emilia." She smiled, almost like a predator.
She strolled forward with theatrical grace, pausing just short of the altar. "I must say, I didn't expect you to come so directly. And with company, no less. How... sweet."
Regan looked around frantically. More shadows moved along the walls. Hidden guards, stepping out now, encircling them.
"Cale..." he whispered.
Cale grit his teeth. His mind raced. I should have used my sight. I should have checked. I should have...
A sharp sound drew his attention.
Behind Emilia, a guard emerged, dragging a figure into the light.
Rosanna.
Chained, a cloth gag over her mouth, her eyes blazing with recognition and something fierce beneath the fear.
Cale's stomach dropped.
Emilia glanced back at her prize, then turned to Cale with a glint in her eyes.
"Don't think you can escape this time, little Veyrathi."
The basement had become a trap.
And the jaws were closing fast.