The bell rang once, then twice, and when the hammer fell the third time its sound seemed to split the night in two. It was a summons used for dread more than for ceremony. The three heavy strokes that called those who could move quickly and knew the city's darker rhythms.
Kaelen shouldered his cloak and stepped out into moon-bleached streets with Echo padding at his side. The wolf's fur was a muted silver beneath the lantern light; his breathing was quiet as stone. The city slept in borrowed calm, but Kaelen tasted the tension as if it were salt in the air.
He found Joanna where they had agreed to meet. She stood below the basilica's wide stone steps, the carved saints above them sleeping in shadow. She had not expected more than a messenger or rumor in response to her summons; she had certainly not expected Kaelen to answer it.
