It had been close to an hour when Toby saw them climbing up the slope.
Six members of the
"Containment Department."
Their dark coats marked with the crest of the House Volundr.
Their boots crunching the fallen leaves and their faces hard, already accustomed to this kind of work.
The Containment Department existed for one purpose... to collect the body of the decoy and to clean after the killing was done. They erased everything, the corpses of decoys, the blood, any traces whatsoever.
It was so neither the world nor rival houses could pick apart the truth of what had happened.
Every house maintained its own Containment Division, split into local departments spread across vast territories.
If the fight occurred within a house's own land, there was no issue...the local team handled it. But if it fell under another house's jurisdiction, then only one or two members already posted there would come handy.
They would contact the department of the ruling house, asking for cooperation in clearing the site.
It was part of an uneasy balance.
The houses competed bitterly, each desperate to be the first to discover the true heir.
But outwardly, they held to the same line... peace and stability, the shared search for the heir.
Everyone knew this was far from the truth.
Still, the agreement stood.
One house would help another tidy up, and a short report would be sent to the rightful jurisdiction, acknowledging what had taken place.
If more details were needed, they would be asked later during the Council meeting, where records were exchanged behind closed doors.
Toby knew the routine well.
This site would be no different.
Before the night ended, he would have to file the report, names, essence traces, casualties, all reduced to a few lines of protocol.
It was somewhat of a relief that if all happened under his house's jurisdiction.
The team didn't waste time.
The first man reached him, shoulders squared, eyes sharp, and spoke a single word.
"Sire."
Toby gave a slow nod. "Proceed with it."
That was enough.
The team split instantly, efficient as blades drawn from the same sheath.
Two went to Sirius's body, wrapping it in treated cloths that would hold the blood and preserve the remains.
Another collected the severed head with a steady grip, slipping it into a reinforced case.
The others began sweeping the ground, laying down faint wards, burning away any trace that shouldn't remain.
Toby stood aside, silently watching them do their work.
The head of the team approached.
A man older than the rest.
He stopped just before Toby, his expression unreadable.
"What of the girls, Sir?" His eyes flicked briefly toward Sylvie's small, still figure, curled where Toby had left her. Then to Slythra, coiled in protective slumber. "What's to be done?"
Toby's throat tightene, but no words came at first.
He looked at Sylvie's small hands, still smeared with dried blood.
At her face, pale and slack in sleep.
He had been turning that question over for the past hour, and it hadn't grown any lighter.
For a heartbeat he thought of saying nothing. Maybe even of keeping her, of giving her some place that wasn't this cruel.
But he knew better.
Sylvie hated him, and rightfully so.
He took some time and then forced his tone even, "Take care of the girl however you want. She has no one else left. Maybe… maybe it's better to make it easier for her."
His voice dragged slightly on the last words. "It's on you. Whatever you decide."
The man gave a slow nod.
"And the older one?" he asked.
Toby exhaled through his nose. "She's a guardian. Not relevant. Let her be. I don't want unnecessary blood."
Silence stretched.
The containment leader studied him, then answered with a crisp, "Understood."
He turned, barking short commands to his men. They moved like men in a cog, lifting the body, sealing the case, preparing descent.
Toby remained where he was. He had diffused the responsibility, tried to run away from the burden of choosing another fate.
The night air felt heavier with every breath, the smell of death still clinging to him. His hand tightened, the code he had already sent still echoing in his head.
The bird had not been a hawk.
It was a crow.
So the wings were cut.
And as if to pull him out of his thoughts, his communicator rang.
He unclipped it, the faint hum filling the silence.
A familiar voice came through. It was one of his own's.
A younger member of his own division, almost like an apprentice.
"We are her sir. It's time."
Toby didn't answer right away.
His thumb hovered over the switch, his eyes locked on the scene before him.
Sylvie lay crumpled where the spell had dropped her, her small chest still rising and falling.
Alive, but for how long? He didn't know if letting her wake would be mercy or cruelty.
He had left the choice in other hands, telling himself it was for her sake...but deep down he knew it was also because he couldn't bear to decide.
He also saw Slythra, a girl who lost two fathers on the same day. Worst, she had no idea about the second death, about how she lost the one she was going to rely on. How her life got burned before it could even begin.
Then his gaze shifted to the shrouded body. The end of a man who had walked beside him for years.
The end of the longest decoy Toby had ever kept alive.
The end of doubt, of hope, of almost believing Sirius might truly be the one.
It wasn't just Sirius who had died.
It was the fragile illusion Toby had clung to, the lie that maybe this time things could be different.
A sad end to a long journey.
Toby blamed himself for everything, and he surely felt guilty as well. But in the end, he was another human masking everything under the pretext of duty and inevitability.
He exhaled, slowly and then clicked the communicator on.
"Understood."
He turned, and his voice was steady again. "On my way."