The city changed when night fell.
The laughter of merchants was gone. The smell of bread and spice turned into the sharp scent of smoke and damp stone. Torches flickered in narrow streets, throwing orange light across walls stained by time.
Kael moved through those alleys like a ghost. His hood was up, his boots quiet. Every sound—every drop of water, every footstep behind him—made him tense for a moment.
He had spent the entire day collecting whispers. Now, the puzzle was starting to take shape.
Jane's guild wasn't just a small group anymore. It had grown—deep roots in the market, the taverns, even the city guard. Everyone knew her name, though few dared to say it out loud.
Kael stopped at a corner where two drunk men argued outside a tavern. He slipped into the shadows beside the door, waiting. When one of them stumbled away, Kael grabbed him by the arm and pushed him against the wall.
The man's eyes widened. "W-what the—? Let go!"
Kael's voice was calm, but low. "I just want to talk."
"About what?"
"Jane's guild."
The man froze. "I don't know anything—"
Kael pressed the edge of a small dagger against his ribs. "You work in her tavern. You collect her payments. You know something."
The man swallowed hard, his breath quick. "O-okay, okay. Just don't kill me."
"I won't. Talk."
The man looked around nervously. The alley was empty except for them. "Jane runs three guild houses now. One near the docks, one under the west gate, and one in the old church ruins. She controls the black market, the thieves, even some of the guards. If she wants someone gone—they disappear."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "And Rex?"
The man hesitated. "Her right hand. He does the hunting. Cold, quiet. People say he used to be a soldier before she found him."
Kael stepped back, lowering the knife. "You've been helpful."
The man looked relieved, until Kael added softly, "Forget this talk ever happened."
He nodded quickly and ran off down the street, disappearing into the dark.
Kael stood there for a moment, staring at the ground. The wind howled through the narrow alley, carrying a chill that cut through his coat.
"So, Jane," he whispered, "you've built yourself a kingdom."
He looked up at the moon. It hung low, pale and distant. "Then I'll tear it down piece by piece."
---
At the mansion
Jane stood in the candlelight, leaning over a table covered in maps. Red markings crossed through parts of the city—markets, guild houses, patrol routes.
Rex entered silently, his boots barely making a sound. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a scar running down the side of his neck.
"You called for me," he said.
Jane didn't look up. "He's moving faster than I expected. My men saw him near the lower district. He's asking questions."
Rex folded his arms. "Want me to kill him?"
"No." Her voice was steady, but there was a sharpness in it. "Killing him now would be easy. Too easy. I want to know what he's planning first. Where he goes. Who he speaks to."
Rex nodded slowly. "You want me to follow him."
Jane finally lifted her gaze. Her eyes were calm, but her expression was unreadable. "You're the only one I trust not to be seen."
He gave a faint smile. "You still don't trust me completely."
Jane's lips curved slightly. "That's why you're still alive."
A small pause filled the room. The fire crackled.
"Be careful, Rex," she said finally. "He's not like the others. He'll sense you if you get too close."
Rex nodded. "And if he does?"
Jane turned back to the map, tracing a finger over the district near the west gate. "Then make him think you're a shadow. Nothing more."
---
Back in the streets
Kael entered a narrow passage behind the butcher's quarter. The air smelled of blood and salt. He stopped in front of a locked door, looked around once, then knelt and picked the lock with practiced hands.
Inside was a small storage room filled with crates. He closed the door quietly and pulled out a small lamp, lighting it just enough to see. Papers were stacked on a table—letters sealed with Jane's symbol.
He read quickly, eyes scanning the lines. Names. Payment records. Shipments of weapons.
One paper caught his attention—it mentioned the "old church," just as the drunk man had said. A meeting in two nights.
Kael folded the note and slipped it into his coat.
As he turned to leave, something moved outside. A faint scrape. A shadow.
He blew out the lamp instantly, drawing his blade. The silence pressed in. He could hear his heartbeat.
Then, a whisper of boots outside the door—soft, trained, deliberate.
Kael didn't move. He waited, his breath held. After a few seconds, the sound faded away. Whoever it was, they were good. Too good.
He opened the door slowly and stepped into the alley again. Empty. But he could feel it—someone was watching.
Kael looked up toward the rooftops, where the moonlight touched the edges of the tiles. "So, Jane," he muttered, "you already sent your hound."
He walked away calmly, but his hand stayed near his weapon.
---
On the rooftops
Rex crouched low behind a chimney, his cloak blending with the dark. He watched Kael disappear into the next street, silent as smoke.
"He's sharper than I thought," Rex whispered to himself. "Didn't even make a sound, but he still felt me."
He smiled slightly, almost amused. "This might be fun."
He stayed there for a moment, eyes tracing Kael's movements. The man didn't act like prey—he moved like someone used to being hunted.
Rex reached into his pocket, pulling out a small metal disk with Jane's mark. He pressed it once—it clicked softly, glowing faint red for a moment. A signal.
Far away in the mansion, Jane would know he'd found Kael.
---
At the mansion, again
Jane sat alone now. The rest of the guild hall was silent. She poured herself a drink and stared into the fire.
The red light danced across her face, reflecting in her eyes like small sparks of anger.
She remembered Kael's voice, calm and confident from years ago. "We don't kill unless we must. We're not monsters."
She had believed that once. Then he left her to be one.
She took a slow drink, the glass trembling just slightly in her hand. "You made me what I am, Kael," she whispered. "Now you'll see what your mercy created."
---
Out in the city
Kael reached the edge of the river. The moon rippled across the black water.
He looked back once, scanning the rooftops. He didn't see anyone, but he knew—he wasn't alone anymore.
He pulled the note from his coat and stared at the words again: Old Church. Two nights. Midnight.
"Then that's where this ends," he said quietly.
The wind carried his words away, leaving only the sound of the water and the echo of footsteps somewhere far behind him.
The game had begun—one built on shadows, trust long dead, and a promise of blood.