Solvane rose from his bed, senses alert. Probably another spy, he thought. The other Aspers had sent agents before, always watching, always testing. This was likely his fourth encounter. Yet, a strange tug at his chest—like a whisper he could not ignore—pushed him forward.
He moved silently through the hall. Ahead, a girl was being carried, limp and pale, by the guards. Her presence made the shadows seem deeper, heavier.
"Hold!" Solvane commanded. "Who is that?"
The guards froze, and upon seeing him, fell to the ground, letting her drop.
"Young master, we caught this spy near the castle," one stammered, bowing low. "We were about to behead her."
Solvane stepped closer. The girl stirred, her eyes opening—pale, calculating, like shards of ice. For the first time, he saw another Asper—a Blue Asper. She was taller than him, her form lithe yet deadly. Every movement was precise, almost predatory, and her beauty was as cold as it was mesmerizing. It drew you in, yet warned of the danger lurking beneath.
"So this is the prince?" she said, her voice like silk over steel. "Thought you'd be taller… maybe even handsome. But you're… adequate."
Solvane ignored the jab and asked, "What's your name?"
Her eyes glinted in the torchlight, icy and unreadable. "You think I'm really stupid to give out my name?"
A tense silence fell. Even the shadows seemed to shiver around her. Solvane felt the faint brush of danger, a premonition of blades and death, yet he did not flinch.
Ignoring the girl's smirk, Solvane turned to the guards. "Release her."
Confusion rippled through them—and even the girl's sharp gaze flickered. Yet he ignored their hesitation, and the bindings fell away. "Go," he said.
The girl wasted no time. A dagger flashed in her hand, aimed at his neck. A massive fist intercepted her, gripping her face with inhuman strength.
"You naive little prince," the figure growled. "Do you think an assassin would bury the hatchet and let an opportunity pass—even if it costs their life?"
A thin line of blood ran down Solvane's neck. Shock widened his eyes; he had felt the cold brush of death. Heart hammering, he shouted, "Master Fog… please… let her go!"
Master Fog's eyes widened, then a slow, knowing grin spread across his face. "So… you chose this path," he murmured. He released her. "Scurry away, street rat."
The girl's gaze lingered on Solvane one last time. "Fascinating," she whispered, before vanishing into the darkness.
Solvane watched the shadows swallow her, then turned to his master. "Senior… what brings you here so late at night?"
"To prepare for tomorrow," came the voice—but it was not Master Fog. Another figure emerged from the darkness. Red pupils glowed, sharp teeth glinting, and the air around him seemed to press down with menace.
The hall grew silent. Danger had arrived.