The alleys of Valenport were never quiet, not really.
Even at this hour, when the taverns had finally run out of drunks to throw into the gutter, there were the faint sounds—rats in the walls, water dripping from broken gutters, a distant clang of metal on metal where night workers hammered in the shipyards.
But tonight, those sounds felt wrong.
Like they were waiting for something.
I moved through the maze of backstreets, my hood low, boots whispering against damp stone. Every muscle in my body ached from the fight with the Hounds, but I forced myself to keep pace. I couldn't let the adrenaline crash—not yet.
Somewhere above, the figure from the rooftop was still there. I hadn't seen them move, hadn't heard them jump from building to building, but the weight of their attention followed me like a shadow I couldn't shake.
[ Alert: Unknown Entity – Tracking Behavior Confirmed ]
[ Threat Level: Undefined ]
Undefined.
The system didn't even know what it was dealing with.
I ducked under a hanging laundry line and slipped into a narrow lane barely wide enough for my shoulders. My breaths came slow and even, my heartbeat settling into the rhythm I used when I was hunting.
Only… I wasn't the hunter tonight.
The lane spat me out into a small courtyard choked with weeds. An abandoned fountain squatted in the center, its basin cracked, the statue above headless. Moonlight pooled in the broken stone, throwing long, jagged shadows across the ground.
I paused.
Waited.
Nothing.
Maybe they'd lost me.
Then—
A flicker. Not in my eyes, but in my perception. Like a half-formed thought trying to push itself into reality. The same pressure I'd felt in the courtyard after the Hounds fell—presence without sound, weight without form.
My hand found my sword hilt before I'd decided to move.
"You're not one of the Council's," I said into the empty air. "So what are you?"
A voice answered, quiet, male, and carrying that same unnerving certainty I'd heard from the spear-wielding assassin days ago.
"Not yet your enemy."
A figure stepped into the moonlight. The cloak I'd seen before was deep charcoal, its surface shifting faintly, like smoke trapped in fabric. His face was half-hidden, but his eyes—black, bottomless—locked onto mine and didn't let go.
Every instinct screamed to strike first. But something in those eyes told me it wouldn't matter.
"You've made yourself… interesting," he said. "Dareth notices. Others notice. The Hounds were never meant to kill you."
I tightened my grip on the hilt. "They did a poor job convincing me of that."
"They were meant to measure you." He tilted his head, studying me like a smith might study a blade fresh from the forge. "And now I know why Dareth hesitates."
My jaw tightened. "You're with him."
"I'm above him."
The system pinged.
[ Psychological Manipulation Detected ]
[ Resistance Successful ]
I swallowed the sudden chill that wanted to climb my spine. "If you're trying to intimidate me, you're going to have to do better than riddles."
For the first time, his mouth curved into something almost like a smile—but it didn't reach his eyes.
"This isn't intimidation, Kael. This is… a courtesy."
He stepped closer, and my Soul Resonance spiked, warning of danger even though he hadn't drawn a weapon.
"Leave Valenport," he said. "Tonight. Burn your connections, abandon your allies, and disappear into the deadlands. If you don't… you'll meet the next stage of the Council's board."
I didn't move. "And what stage is that?"
"Check."
The word hit harder than I wanted to admit.
He stepped back, the shadows bending unnaturally around him, his outline blurring. "I'll give you three nights. After that… even I won't be able to stand between you and what's coming."
And then—he was gone. No rush of air, no sound of boots. Just gone.
I stood there in the courtyard, my sword still drawn, the moonlight suddenly feeling too bright.
Three nights.
[ Objective Updated: Survive Pending Threat – Unknown Nature ]
[ Time Remaining: 71h 58m ]
The timer burned in the corner of my vision like a brand.
I forced my sword back into its sheath and started moving again, keeping to the deeper shadows. The air felt heavier now, like the city itself was leaning in to listen.
By the time I reached the safehouse, Ryn was waiting on the roof, crossbow in hand. She froze when she saw my face.
"You didn't just run from the Hounds," she said. It wasn't a question.
"No," I replied, climbing up beside her.
"Who was it?"
I sat down, my back against the chimney, staring out at the city. "Not sure. But they knew my name. Knew Dareth's plans. And they told me to run."
Ryn raised an eyebrow. "And you're… considering it?"
I didn't answer right away. My body was tired, but my mind wouldn't stop replaying that word—check. Not mate. Not win. Just the reminder that there were more moves left, and I was already behind.
Finally, I said, "No. But I think we just stepped off the map."
We sat there in silence for a while, watching the fog roll in from the harbor. Somewhere far below, the city kept breathing, unaware that the pieces on the board were already moving toward their next collision.
And in my vision, the timer kept counting down.