Ashreign was a city that never truly slept, but on nights like this, it breathed in silence.
Moonlight slid across the high-bridges like oil, distorting reflections of statues that had no mouths but seemed to scream. Bastion stood still on the copper-tiled edge of the Bellspine Overlook, gloved fingers tightening around his staff. Behind him, Cassiel exhaled in a slow, quiet breath, as though afraid to stir the air.
"There," Bastion whispered.
A shadow had leapt, a blur between spires, graceful and too familiar. A masked figure in fragmented robes, the seams laced with glinting threads of shifting silver. Not just a thief, but a message wrapped in skin.
"You sure it's not one of ours?" Cassiel asked.
"None of ours leave trails that shimmer," Bastion replied. "Come."
And they ran. Across rooftops older than most kingdoms, the chase began.
Each step echoed like a tolling bell. Overhead, ravens cried and church bells rang from towers with no ropes. Bastion moved like a wind-carved flame, his body a rhythm of precision and silence. Cassiel followed behind, heavier, louder, but relentless.
The thief vaulted a stone barrier and dropped out of view. Bastion skidded to a stop and vaulted after him, landing on a lower roof layered with damp prayer scrolls. His boot crushed a half-burned vow.
"Bastion!" Cassiel called, slower to catch up.
But Bastion was already gone.
Rue traced a finger along the stained-glass wall, frowning. They were in a church that shouldn't exist. No foundation, no records. Just... appeared. Mirae stood near the altar, head bowed, speaking in low tones to a statue of a saint whose name was long scratched out.
"It moved," Mirae said quietly.
"The statue?"
Mirae nodded.
Ashwen paced behind them, muttering into a coin.
"Bells again," the coin said. "No pattern. Not divine. Not sane."
"Is there a difference?" Ashwen muttered.
Cassiel arrived alone, face pale with rage and confusion.
"Bastion's gone. Chasing the thief. I couldn't keep up."
Ashwen didn't curse, but her expression tightened like a stormcloud. Rue touched her sword.
"He can take care of himself," Mirae said.
"That's what people say before someone dies," Rue replied.
The bells rang again. This time from beneath them.
Bastion walked in a tunnel lined with bones that weren't dead. They hummed faintly, like tuning forks waiting to be struck. The thief was gone, vanished into the dark. But something else lingered.
A flicker of memory.
He blinked, and for a moment saw Ilyan. Not as he knew him. Younger. Older. Glowing. Broken.
Two Ilyans.
He staggered back, gasping.
"What are you?" Bastion whispered into the dark.
The bones pulsed.
"We have to go underground," Cassiel said. "He followed it beneath the city."
Ashwen turned to Rue. "Take Mirae. Gather supplies. Find a cartographer, one who remembers Ashreign before the war. The tunnels were sealed after the bloodline purges."
Rue nodded.
Ashwen faced Cassiel. "You and I will find an entry. One that doesn't bleed."
Cassiel raised an eyebrow. "Is that a joke?"
"In Ashreign," Ashwen said, turning away, "everything bleeds. Even the maps."
And the bells rang again. This time, they were singing names no one had spoken in centuries