The morning began with Vayra and her schemes.
That alone was enough to sour Mugen's mood.
He stood beside Tamura in one of Mourncrest Manor's narrow briefing rooms, arms folded, eyelids low, looking like he had been dragged from bed and intended to make that everyone else's problem. Across from them, Vayra lounged behind a blackwood table with a glass of red wine in one hand. Morning light caught the drink and painted her fingers the color of old blood.
Several papers lay before her. Trade permits. A route map. A ledger bearing House Mourncrest's silver thorn.
Tamura watched the papers. Mugen watched Vayra.
Neither trusted what they saw.
"You two will accompany one of our merchants today," Vayra said.
Mugen's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Because I said so."
"Wonderful explanation."
Her smile sharpened. "I thought so."
Tamura glanced between them. He still did not understand why they spoke to each other this way. Every sentence sounded like a small blade testing for a gap in armor.
Vayra pushed a sealed pouch across the table. Something metallic shifted inside.
"A simple exchange," she continued. "Merchandise for gold. You will observe, remain quiet, and obey the merchant."
"Merchandise?" Tamura asked.
Mugen sighed. "And there's our first clue that this is not simple."
Vayra ignored him. "The buyer is Lord TirMyre. He has dealt with Mourncrest before."
"Do you trust him?" Mugen asked.
"Of course not."
"Good. I was worried you'd gone soft."
For the briefest moment, Vayra's eye twitched.
Then she set down her glass.
"You are there to watch," she said, each word smooth and deliberate. "Nothing more."
Mugen rose from his chair. "Which means we'll definitely be doing more than that."
Tamura followed him toward the door. Behind them, Vayra lifted her wine again.
"Try not to embarrass the house."
Mugen did not look back. "No promises."
The capital swallowed them by midmorning.
Tamura sat against the carriage window, staring as Xathia rolled past in flashes of white stone and colored glass. Towers rose above packed streets. Vendors shouted over one another beneath striped awnings. Armored guards moved through crowds of elves, beastkin, humans, and races Tamura could not name.
So many people.
More than he had imagined could exist in one place.
He searched every passing face without knowing what he hoped to find. Someone familiar, perhaps. Someone with his eyes. Someone who could look at him and explain why the only memories he possessed felt like pieces torn from another person's life.
No one looked back.
Mugen occupied the opposite seat with his eyes closed.
"Are you asleep?" Tamura asked.
"I was."
"Your eyes opened before I spoke."
"Then why ask?"
Tamura frowned and returned to the window.
Lord TirMyre's estate stood at the edge of the noble district behind iron gates tall enough to imprison a giant. Guards watched from the walls. More waited in the courtyard, hands resting near their weapons.
Mugen counted them as the carriage passed.
"Too many," he murmured.
"For what?"
"For a man who wants people to believe he isn't afraid."
Inside, polished marble reflected chandeliers bright enough to hurt Tamura's eyes. Gold crowded every surface. Paintings covered the walls in heavy frames. Servants moved silently with trays of meat, fruit, and wine, but none met the guests' eyes.
Lord TirMyre waited at the center of the receiving hall.
He was large in the soft way of a man who had never needed to be strong. Rings crowded his fingers. A jeweled chain disappeared beneath the folds of his collar. When he saw the boys behind the Mourncrest merchant, he laughed.
"These are your escorts?"
The merchant forced a smile. "They are capable."
"I see children."
Tamura disliked the way TirMyre studied them. Not like children. Not even like people.
Like prices waiting to be named.
Mugen seemed bored, but his gaze moved constantly—from the guards to the doors, from the servants to the iron grates set low in the walls.
The negotiation began.
Weights. Delivery fees. Measures of grain and alchemical ore. Tamura understood little of it. Mugen understood enough to become annoyed.
His fingers stopped tapping against his sleeve.
"You're shorting us."
The hall went silent.
Lord TirMyre blinked. "What did you say?"
Mugen leaned over the ledger. "The listed weight doesn't match the gold you offered. And you charged transport twice—here under freight, then again under road risk."
The noble stared at him. "You can read?"
"Can you?"
Tamura bit the inside of his cheek. The merchant looked as if he wished the marble floor would open and bury him.
Instead, the side doors closed.
One after another.
The servants vanished first. Guards shifted between the boys and the main entrance. The merchant did not protest. He would not even look at them.
Mugen's face changed.
Only slightly.
But Tamura saw the humor leave it.
"Behind me," Mugen said.
The floor dropped before Tamura could move.
Stone split beneath their feet. Darkness swallowed them, followed by a rush of cold air and the violent pull of falling. Mugen's shadows snapped outward, caught Tamura around the waist, and dragged him close a heartbeat before they struck the ground.
Tamura landed hard enough to jar his teeth. Mugen absorbed the worse impact, rolling across rough stone before slamming into a wall.
Above them, the trapdoor sealed.
No light remained.
"Mugen?"
"Still alive." A pause. "Unfortunately."
Tamura pushed himself upright. The air smelled of wet stone, old blood, and something musky enough to coat the back of his throat.
Then came the scrape of claws.
Slow.
Heavy.
Circling.
Mugen summoned a thin sphere of darkness above his palm. The light it gave was wrong—violet at its center, black at its edges—but it was enough.
Bones littered the chamber.
Some belonged to animals.
Others did not.
Three pairs of red eyes opened beyond the reach of the glow.
Tamura first thought three creatures watched them. Then the shape moved, and all six eyes shifted together.
One enormous head emerged from the dark.
Orange fur covered a body built like a siege beast. Two smaller eyes sat beneath the main pair, while the last opened along the ridge of its skull. Jagged teeth overlapped inside a maw wide enough to close around Tamura's chest. Its spiked tail dragged behind it, carving a white line through the stone.
Mugen took one careful step sideways. "Rune Howler."
"Is that bad?"
"No. The bones are decoration."
The beast's nostrils widened.
Its gaze settled on Tamura's pendant.
The crimson sunstone warmed against his chest.
The Howler lunged.
Mugen's shadow struck Tamura in the ribs and knocked him clear. Jaws crashed shut where he had stood, cracking the floor. Tamura rolled, came up on one knee, and barely ducked as the spiked tail screamed over his head. It tore through a pillar behind him.
Stone burst across the chamber.
Mugen attacked the creature's legs. Shadows climbed from beneath its paws, hardened into hooked spears, and drove toward the softer joints. The Howler twisted with startling speed. Two spikes glanced off runes hidden beneath its fur. A third sank shallowly before the beast ripped free.
Not invulnerable, Tamura realized.
Armored.
"The joints!" he shouted.
"I noticed!"
Tamura ignited his fist and rushed its exposed side. Heat gathered around his knuckles until the air warped. He struck behind the foreleg.
The blow landed cleanly.
Flame scattered across orange fur.
The Howler did not flinch.
Its shoulder slammed into him and sent him tumbling.
"My fire did nothing."
"I noticed that too."
The beast charged Mugen next.
Mugen planted his feet. Darkness wrapped his arms, not as armor but as cords braced against the floor and walls. When the Howler struck, he caught its muzzle with both hands.
The collision drove him backward.
One step.
Two.
Cracks opened beneath his heels.
Then he stopped it.
Tamura stared. Mugen used no enhancement Verdance. No strengthening spell burned across his skin. Yet an eight-year-old boy was holding back a beast three times his size.
"What are you?" Tamura shouted.
Mugen's teeth clenched. "A genius."
"That is not an answer!"
"It's the only one you're getting!"
The Howler's lower eyes shifted toward the shadow cords anchoring Mugen.
It understood.
The beast stopped pushing and dropped its weight without warning. Mugen stumbled forward. Its tail hooked behind his legs. One savage twist tore him away from his anchors.
Too fast.
The Howler's jaws closed around his shoulder and side.
Bone cracked.
Mugen screamed.
The sound emptied Tamura's mind.
Blood struck the floor in hot drops. The beast lifted Mugen as though he weighed nothing. His shadows flickered, lost shape, and dissolved.
Tamura could not hear the chamber anymore.
He heard a chain snapping.
He heard children laughing as his pendant fell.
He heard Mugen in the bathhouse asking what freedom meant to him.
Then he heard his own heart.
Louder.
Louder.
Louder.
Heat rolled from his skin. The cold chamber vanished beneath it. Cracks spread from his bare feet, glowing dull red within.
The Howler released a low, uncertain growl.
Tamura raised his head.
His violet eyes had turned crimson.
Fire crawled along the tips of his dark hair. Not the small flame he had practiced. Not the obedient spark that answered his fist.
This fire did not feel summoned.
It felt awakened.
Ancient fury stirred beneath his ribs, recognized the blood in the air, and opened its eyes.
"Tamura…" Mugen managed.
The chamber trembled.
Tamura took one step forward.
This time, the predator backed away.