Mbanza still bore the bruises of battle. Smoke lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of ash and sweat. The streets were quieter now, but not safe—not truly. Alaric moved like a shadow between the broken walls and sacred ruins, each footstep calculated, every glance scanning for movement. He wasn't just hunting.
He was being hunted too.
Behind him, Nondo followed with the cautious grace of a panther. The young mage-warrior was quiet, thoughtful—dressed in leather dyed with the deep blue of Mbanza's royal guard, runes stitched into his sleeves. Though not the strongest of Kimpa's allies, he was among the most loyal.
"She said you'd need help," Nondo whispered, watching Alaric check a burned shrine. "And I volunteered. You saved her, after all."
Alaric didn't respond. He crouched near a smudge of footprints in the dust—too deep for normal sandals. Boots. Heavy. Military.
"Someone passed here recently," he murmured.
Nondo stepped beside him. "One of Gobinot's? I've heard whispers in the barracks. Some of his… creatures still hide in the city. They move in shadows, speak in broken tongues. But one name keeps coming up: Soma."
Alaric looked up, eyes narrowing. "That's one of his lieutenants. I thought he fled during the collapse."
"Apparently not."
The Ambush
The trail led them through a ruined aqueduct, its moss-covered stones echoing with dripping water and the hum of residual magic. The air grew colder as they descended, until finally, near the hollow base of a collapsed altar, they found him.
Soma emerged from the darkness like a phantom—tall, sinewy, his flesh patched with scales and veins of black magic. A cracked mask covered half his face. His voice grated like sand on stone.
"You're too late," he hissed. "The memory you seek is no longer yours to take."
Alaric stepped forward, unflinching. "The calepin. Where is it?"
Soma tilted his head. "You should worry less about the past, and more about your future."
He struck first—fast, faster than expected. Alaric barely dodged the initial burst of corrupted energy, while Nondo conjured a protective glyph mid-air, its blue light flaring against the shadows.
The fight was swift but brutal. Soma's movements were chaotic, like a puppet unstrung, but each blow hit with unnatural weight. Alaric, tapping into his Sylvan training, ducked and parried, his blade dancing like silver wind.
In a single, decisive motion, Alaric sliced through Soma's torso. The corrupted lieutenant staggered, gasping.
And then he laughed.
"Too late," Soma whispered, crumbling into black dust. "He already has it…"
The Disappearance
As Soma disintegrated, a faint glow appeared in his chest—a shard of ink-black energy, pulsing softly. Alaric reached for it, heart pounding, knowing it had to be connected to the calepin.
But before his fingers could touch it, the glow snapped into the air and vanished like a wisp of smoke.
Alaric stared at the empty space, his jaw tightening.
Nondo approached, holding his staff low. "That… wasn't just a charm."
"No," Alaric said. "It was a transfer. Gobinot has the notebook. And now… it's bound to something far more dangerous."
They stood in silence, the echo of Soma's laughter still dancing along the walls.
The hunt had only just begun. And Gobinot had the memories of everything.
Not just the ruins. Not just the magic.
He had the truth.