Episode Four — Shadows and Whispers
Clover leaned against the alley wall, trying to look casual, but his heart raced like a drumline. The market's chaos buzzed around him—shouting vendors, clattering carts, and the smell of roasted chestnuts. Somehow, he'd managed to outsmart three Orion scouts chasing him through the crowd… barely.
He tapped the small bottle of alcohol in his satchel, a gift for Ryker that now felt oddly heavy. Maybe he won't notice if I sneak it in with the rest of the supplies… Clover thought, smirking. Genius—until someone decided to ruin it by being faster, stronger, and invisible.
Then he heard it—a soft, icy whisper slicing through the chatter:
"Next time you touch him… you're dead."
Clover froze. His eyes darted around, trying to find the source. The crowd blurred into colors and faces, but in the corner of his vision, he caught a shadow flit between stalls—a girl dressed in black, moving like smoke. Before he could blink, she was gone.
"What the—?" Clover muttered, pressing the shard in his pocket. It pulsed faintly, like it was laughing at him.
Who…? he thought, feeling a strange mix of fear and curiosity. The market's noise returned, mocking him with its normalcy. Clover forced a laugh. "Well… at least someone's keeping me on my toes."
He straightened, adjusted his bag, and began weaving through the crowd, pretending nothing had happened. But the whisper lingered, and for the first time, Clover realized the world wasn't just full of shadows—it was watching him.
---
Clover's feet moved almost on autopilot, weaving through side streets to avoid further scouts. The city was alive with morning energy—bakers shouting prices, children running with sticky hands, and stray cats darting under market stalls.
As he walked, he unconsciously twirled the shard in his hand. Clara would freak out if she knew what I've got. Not that I'd tell her. He smiled, imagining her sitting cross-legged at home, arms crossed, pretending not to care that he was leaving. That little sister tease kept him grounded—reminded him why he fought to act normal when everything else was chaos.
The thought of Ryker made him straighten his posture. Gifts. Alcohol. A plan. And then—Clover grinned mischievously—explore the house. Maybe Nyx will make this interesting… or try to stop me. Heh. He doesn't know what's coming.
He nearly tripped on a stray crate but recovered, laughing to himself. "Smooth. Very stealthy. Totally heroic."
Then the shard pulsed sharply, reminding him that stealth wasn't enough. Someone had eyes everywhere, and Clover didn't know who—or why.
---
Ryker's house loomed ahead, quiet and unassuming from the street. Clover slowed, adjusting the satchel so the alcohol didn't clink against the metal. Mission: get in, plant the gift, figure out the house, survive.
He took a deep breath and stepped onto the porch, pausing to scan the yard. No sign of Nyx—just the morning breeze, rustling leaves, and the faint hum of electricity from Ryker's security measures. Perfect.
Clover tiptoed inside, exaggerating every movement like a rogue in a comic book. "I am stealth incarnate… master of shadows… king of heroism…" he whispered, but the shard pulsed again, sharper this time. Someone—or something—was watching.
He froze mid-step. From the corner of the room, a shadow flickered. The girl in black from the market was there, standing silently near the staircase. Clover's eyes widened.
"Uh… hi?" he squeaked, trying to appear calm. "You're… uh… not supposed to be here, right?"
The girl tilted her head, arms crossed, voice smooth but dangerous:
"Next time… don't get caught."
Before Clover could reply, she moved like a shadow and disappeared again, leaving only a faint pulse from the shard and a whiff of lavender in the air.
Clover exhaled, heart hammering. "Okay… okay… definitely heroic, not scared at all… totally cool." He straightened, shaking his head with a nervous grin. "Gifts. House. Stealth. And maybe… an uninvited hero?"
He slung the satchel over his shoulder and tiptoed further inside, unaware that the shadow outside, hidden from view, had already vanished into the streets—leaving Clover blissfully clueless, and the audience on edge.
---
A faint shimmer from the shard pulsed faster as Clover disappeared into Ryker's house. Somewhere far away, two figures—one familiar, one unknown—watched the same pulse, their eyes narrowing. The game was only beginning.
---
Clover slipped through Ryker's front door like a cat—if cats carried suspicious bottles of alcohol and muttered about heroic stealth. The house was quiet, almost too quiet. Perfect. Too perfect, actually.
He tiptoed toward the kitchen, imagining a triumphant entrance, triumphant music, the whole hero vibe… until his foot hit a squeaky floorboard. Creak!
"Okay… smooth… master of stealth… totally invisible… maybe I should invent socks that muffle squeaks…" he muttered.
From the corner of the hallway, a low growl echoed. Nyx, Ryker's lynx, appeared—sleek, golden eyes locked on him.
Clover froze. "Ah… hello, big cat. Totally casual visit. Just… you know… gift delivery and reconnaissance. No funny business."
Nyx blinked once, slowly, unimpressed, tail flicking. Clover could swear he saw it smirk.
"Well… okay… maybe a little funny business," Clover whispered, inching backward. He gestured toward the satchel. "I come in peace! I have… gifts!"
Nyx leaped onto the table, knocking over a fruit bowl. Apples rolled across the floor like tiny, red cannonballs. Clover flailed. "Okay… that's hostile. Slightly hostile. But I like your style!"
He grabbed the satchel and attempted a hasty retreat—right into a hallway corner. Nyx blocked him, tail swiping a stack of books that landed with an almost musical thud.
Clover flopped dramatically against the wall. "I surrender! I surrender! No… wait… not surrender. Strategically paused! Tactical retreat!"
Nyx narrowed his eyes. Clover held up the bottle like a peace offering. "Gifts! For Ryker! Totally innocent! No ulterior motives… I swear… maybe!"
The lynx sniffed, batted the satchel, then strutted away, clearly unimpressed—but allowing him to move. Clover exhaled, whispering to himself, "Victory… maybe… if cats could applaud, I'd hear it now."
He tiptoed further into the house, muttering plans aloud: "Step one: deliver gift. Step two: explore house. Step three: avoid Nyx… mostly. Step four: legendary hero moment. Step five: return home before anyone notices I'm missing."
At one point, he paused, leaning against a wall. "Clara… I hope you'd be proud. Or at least mildly amused that your heroic brother is being chased by a lynx while carrying alcohol." He gave a sheepish grin to an empty hallway.
Suddenly, a faint metallic click echoed. Clover's eyes darted around. "Ah… okay… maybe… Ryker has traps? Or… or maybe… secret cameras? Totally normal. Totally planned for this. Totally not scared."
A soft tap behind him made him spin around—nothing. Then a shadow flickered across the staircase, almost too fast to see. Clover froze mid-step. "Oh… right. Someone else… maybe… watching? Cool… totally fine… not terrifying at all…"
He squared his shoulders, grinning nervously, and whispered, "Adventure… let's do this."
---
Clover crouched behind a potted plant, the satchel of alcohol clutched like a treasure chest. His eyes scanned the living room, noting the faint hum of security gadgets and the occasional glint of something shiny.
"Step one: deliver gift. Step two: explore. Step three: avoid Nyx. Step four: be a legend… and maybe not die," he whispered to himself.
A sudden creak made him freeze. Then, from the shadows, Ryker stepped out—hands in his pockets, calm, composed, hair slightly disheveled as if he'd just come back from a mission. His eyes narrowed as they landed on Clover—half-flopped behind a plant, holding the bottle like a hostage.
"You're… inventive," Ryker said dryly, raising an eyebrow. "And I see you've met Nyx."
Clover jumped, nearly dropping the bottle. "Uh… yes. Greetings, master… uh… lynx whisperer? Totally casual visit! Not spying! Definitely not sneaking!"
Ryker crossed his arms, smirking slightly. "Casual, huh? That explains the apples on the floor, and the dramatic crouch behind the ficus."
Clover flopped onto the floor, giving his best "innocent yet heroic" smile. "Heroic reconnaissance! Totally necessary! The fruit was… uh… collateral. Strategic collateral."
Nyx padded past Ryker and Clover, tail high, giving Clover the coldest glare imaginable. Clover whispered under his breath, "I swear, if cats could talk, you'd be laughing at me… and judging me."
Ryker shook his head, stepping closer. "I should be angry, but… honestly, this is impressive. You're chaotic in a very… entertaining way."
Clover grinned, attempting to play it cool. "Thank you. I train for… situations exactly like this. Totally prepared. Mostly. Sort of."
Ryker leaned down slightly, voice quieter now. "Listen, I know why you're here. The shard… your little adventure. Don't underestimate what you've gotten yourself into. But… I won't stop you. I want to see how far you can go."
Clover's grin faltered slightly, then he shrugged. "Far enough to deliver this gift, explore your spooky house, and not die… all before dinner. You know… hero stuff."
Ryker straightened, giving a small, approving nod. "Fair enough. Just… remember, Nyx isn't the only thing keeping an eye on you. And don't try to be clever with me—I can see through your theatrics faster than you can flail."
Clover saluted dramatically, knocking over a small vase. "Acknowledged, master of stealth and cats. I will proceed… heroically!"
Ryker stepped back, shaking his head with a faint smile, leaving Clover to tiptoe further into the house. The shard pulsed faintly, almost as if it approved—or perhaps warned him that the fun was just beginning.
Clover peeked into a shadowed hallway, whispered to himself, "Clara… I hope you'd be proud. Or at least laughing at my 'heroic' methods…"
And somewhere in the corner, hidden just out of sight, the first hints of someone—or something—else waiting for Clover's next move flickered like a shadow in the dark.
---
Clover grinned, holding the bottle like a hero presenting a trophy. "Here, Master Ryker. A… celebratory drink. For hero reasons."
Ryker raised an eyebrow but took it. Before Clover could even blink, Ryker drained it in one swift gulp.
Clover's eyes widened. "Woah! That was… fast!"
Ryker set the empty bottle down. "Now… why did you—" His voice trailed off, and his head drooped. He had dosed off instantly.
Clover blinked. "Wait… what? Nyx!" He peeked outside the shadowed doorway. The lynx padded silently, alert, tail twitching. "Good… guard," Clover muttered under his breath.
Then Clover's curiosity got the better of him. He shook Ryker gently. "Hey! Before you… you know… nap forever… why did you call yourself 'The Ace'? Why not let others call you that?"
Ryker snored softly, completely unresponsive. Clover threw his hands up in mock frustration. "Seriously? I'm supposed to inherit heroic wisdom, and you just… pass out?!"
Nyx let out a low growl from the doorway, as if saying, Focus, human. Clover huffed, a mix of exasperation and amusement. "Fine… Ace secrets will remain hidden. For now."
With a sly grin, Clover pocketed the empty bottle, already plotting his next move.
🔥 End of Episode 4! 🔥
Clover is chaos, Nyx is judging, and Ryker just passed out—what a team 😂
✨ Questions for you:
1. Who do you think the mysterious girl in black really is?
2. Should Clover confess to Clara about the shard?
3. If you were Nyx, would you let Clover live in this house? 🐾
Drop your answers in the comments—I want to hear your theories! 👇