For the first time in ten years, Soma Locke slept through his usual three o'clock wake-up.
He didn't even dream of running.
When he finally opened his eyes, pale sunlight was creeping through the curtains, illuminating the expensive furnishings of his bedroom.
For several seconds, he couldn't understand why everything felt wrong.
Then he tried to sit up.
Pain shot through his wounded side.
"SON OF A—!"
"LANGUAGE!"
The familiar voice came from a chair near the window.
Soma turned.
Igor sat with his enormous boots propped on a stool, holding a half-empty cup of coffee. His scarred face was twisted into an expression that managed to combine irritation and relief.
Soma blinked.
"Igor?"
"Morning, brat."
"What are you doing in my bedroom?"
"Considering whether I should beat some sense into that thick skull of yours."
Soma stared at him.
"That doesn't narrow it down."
Igor snorted.
"Fair enough."
Soma glanced toward the clock.
Nearly eight.
He'd slept five hours past his usual waking time.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding."
"What's wrong?"
"I missed training."
Igor lowered his coffee.
For a long moment, he simply stared.
Then he began laughing.
It was an enormous, booming sound that filled the bedroom and probably terrified several servants outside.
"You got yourself stabbed, killed a bandit, discovered you've got bloody gold running through your veins, and nearly lost your brother. And the first thing you're worried about is missing a run?"
Soma folded his arms.
"When you say it like that, it sounds unreasonable."
"Because it is, you little shit."
Igor set his cup down.
"You're not training today."
"Tomorrow?"
"No."
"The day after?"
"Ask the healers."
"You're enjoying this."
"Immensely."
Soma sighed.
Igor watched him for a moment.
Then his expression grew serious.
"Jaspar told me what happened."
Soma looked down.
"I figured."
"He also said you kept your head better than most grown men would've."
"I didn't."
The answer came before Soma could stop it.
Igor frowned.
"I panicked. I left the carriage. Samantha got hurt, and I nearly got both of us killed."
"You also saved her life."
"I killed someone."
The room went quiet.
Igor leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees.
"Yeah," he said.
Soma stared at the blanket.
"Does it ever stop feeling strange?"
Igor considered the question.
"If you've got any decency left in you, some of it never does."
Soma looked up.
The veteran's remaining eye held no judgment.
Only understanding.
"Don't go chasing that feeling away by pretending it doesn't matter," Igor continued. "And don't start working yourself half to death because you're afraid it might happen again."
Soma swallowed.
"I need to get stronger."
"Of course you do."
Igor stood.
"But getting stronger starts with healing from the last bloody disaster. You can't protect anyone if you're too stupid to let your own guts stay inside your body."
Despite himself, Soma laughed.
Igor grinned.
"There's my annoying brat."
An hour later, Soma stood outside the situation room.
He was wearing a simple dark-blue tunic rather than his usual elaborate noble clothing. His injured side remained tightly bandaged, and a Vanguard guard stood nearby under strict orders to prevent him from wandering off alone.
Soma found the arrangement insulting.
Unfortunately, after what had happened in the dungeons, he couldn't argue that it was unnecessary.
The doors opened.
Gerald stepped outside.
"Young master. Your father is ready."
Soma entered.
Preston stood beside the large map table, studying a collection of reports. Dark circles marked the skin beneath his eyes, and his magnificent blond mustache appeared unusually disheveled.
For Preston Locke, that was practically a national emergency.
"Good morning, Father."
Preston looked up.
"Soma."
He crossed the room and pulled his son into a careful embrace.
Soma returned it.
"How's Simon?"
"Stable."
The word nearly made Soma's knees buckle.
Preston stepped back.
"The healers worked through the night. The blade missed several vital structures by a very narrow margin. He lost a considerable amount of blood, but they're confident he will survive."
Soma released a shaky breath.
"Thank the gods."
"He remains unconscious. We expect several days of recovery before he'll be ready to answer questions."
"And Samantha?"
Preston's expression softened.
"She's resting in the medical wing. The investigators have reviewed the reports concerning her movements during the expedition. Her conduct was consistent with the escort's account, and we have no evidence that she communicated with the attackers."
Soma studied him.
"Does that mean she's cleared?"
"Not formally. But she's no longer being treated as a principal suspect."
"And the guards?"
"Protection, not detention."
Soma nodded.
It wasn't everything he'd wanted.
But it was progress.
"Can I see her?"
"After the meeting."
"Good."
Preston raised an eyebrow.
"You're very demanding for someone who nearly died two days ago."
Soma looked at his father's mustache.
"And you're very confident for a man who's apparently forgotten how to groom his face."
Preston touched his upper lip.
"What's wrong with my mustache?"
"Everything, Father. Absolutely everything."
For the first time that morning, the Archduke laughed.
The situation room filled quickly.
The king entered first, followed by Cardinal Rodriguez, Jaspar, Kara, and several royal intelligence advisors.
A fresh collection of documents covered the table.
Maps.
Nexus communication logs.
Witness statements.
The dungeon registry.
And two bloodstained letters preserved beneath thin sheets of glass.
The king took his seat.
"Let's begin with the good news. Simon is expected to recover."
A visible sense of relief moved through the room.
"Now," His Majesty continued, "we have two threats to investigate. The attempted abduction of Soma, and the attack on our lower dungeons."
Jaspar stepped forward.
"The dungeon intruders identified themselves as The Righteous. We've searched known shadow-guild registries and intelligence reports. No confirmed organization operates under that name."
Kara crossed her arms.
"Which doesn't mean they don't exist."
"Correct," Jaspar replied. "It means they haven't left a trail we can identify."
One intelligence advisor adjusted his spectacles.
"We also discovered that the dungeons were nearly empty before the attack. The only recent prisoner of interest was a Viperian merchant arrested for instigating a violent tavern brawl."
Soma leaned forward.
"Was he still imprisoned?"
"No. He was extradited to Viperia two days before the assault."
Jaspar frowned.
"That's convenient."
"An urgent diplomatic request," the advisor explained. "His transfer was approved before the lower-dungeon staff received their updated instructions."
"And Vain didn't know," Soma murmured.
The king looked toward him.
"What are you thinking?"
Soma considered his answer.
"Vain said he was searching for someone who wasn't there. That could have been a lie, but this gives us a person he might actually have expected to find."
"Exactly," Preston replied.
"Do we know why Viperia wanted him back?"
"Officially, he's related to a senior government official," the advisor answered.
"Unofficially?"
"We're investigating."
Soma nodded.
"Then I'd recommend having the Night's Eyes watch him discreetly. If The Righteous were looking for that merchant, they may try again."
Jaspar gave a small approving grunt.
"But don't approach him until we understand why he's being hunted," Soma added. "If we protect someone dangerous without knowing it, we might be creating another problem."
The king studied him.
"Sound advice. We'll dispatch observers and compare the assassins' methods against reports from our neighboring countries."
Soma settled back into his chair.
He didn't know enough about The Righteous to offer anything more.
And for once, admitting that seemed like the intelligent thing to do.
The king turned to the bloodstained parchment.
"Now, the matter of the kidnapping."
The room grew quiet.
"We have reviewed the courier routes, the correspondence records, and the movements of those who knew about Soma's departure."
One advisor stood.
"Master Simon's handwriting does closely resemble the message recovered from the bandit leader. However, we found a second letter delivered to his quarters shortly before he disappeared."
He placed it beside the first.
"The handwriting is also similar."
Soma looked up.
"May I?"
The advisor nodded.
Both documents were laid before him.
The first contained instructions concerning the convoy.
The second had apparently lured Simon toward the lower dungeons with information concerning someone who could clear his name.
Soma studied the lines.
The letters were neat.
Carefully formed.
Almost too carefully.
Then he noticed something.
A descending curve beneath a lowercase g.
He looked at the other message.
The same curve appeared again.
Not quite the same as Simon's writing.
It was a small flourish—an exaggerated hook that made the letter appear as though it were curling beneath itself.
Soma frowned.
"I've seen this before."
Preston looked toward him.
"Where?"
"I'm trying to remember."
He closed his eyes.
Years of household notes passed through his thoughts.
Meal schedules.
Library reminders.
Letters accompanying birthday gifts.
A particular handwriting style he'd seen repeatedly in the servants' records.
His eyes opened.
"Melissa."
Kara straightened.
"Melissa?"
Soma nodded slowly.
"Melissa Livingston. She used to work alongside Samantha."
Preston frowned.
"She's currently assigned to Simon's household."
"Yes," Soma said. "And she's missing."
The intelligence advisor glanced toward his papers.
"She failed to report for duty this morning."
Soma looked up sharply.
"Was her room searched?"
"Yes. We discovered a small collection of burned correspondence in her fireplace. Nothing legible enough to establish its contents."
Soma stared at the two notes.
The resemblance to Simon's handwriting was convincing.
But the distinctive flourish troubled him.
"Do we have any of Melissa's handwriting?"
Preston gestured toward Gerald, who had been waiting near the door.
"Bring the household personnel records."
Several minutes later, the butler returned with a thick ledger.
Soma found the relevant pages.
There.
A written inventory signed by Melissa.
He placed the page beside the two letters.
The lower curve of the g matched.
So did the unusually heavy downward stroke on several other letters.
But Soma refused to declare victory.
"That doesn't prove she wrote these," he said.
Jaspar studied the documents.
"No. But it's enough to bring in a handwriting examiner."
"And we should find out whether she had access to Simon's correspondence," Soma added. "If she was his attendant, she could have practiced copying his handwriting."
Preston nodded.
"She would have had ample opportunity."
Soma looked down again.
Another memory surfaced.
A conversation from several weeks earlier.
Samantha arriving late with his midday meal.
Her unusual concern.
And something she'd mentioned almost in passing.
"Father, there's something else."
The king leaned forward.
"Go on."
"Melissa had been receiving letters."
Soma explained what he remembered.
Several weeks earlier, Samantha had arrived in the library visibly distracted. When he'd asked what was wrong, she'd mentioned that Melissa had received shocking news concerning her supposedly deceased husband.
Melissa had refused to explain further.
Afterward, she'd begun receiving correspondence far more frequently than usual.
"Did you ask Samantha about it?" Preston said.
"Not at the time. It didn't seem like my business."
Soma paused.
"That was probably a mistake."
Jaspar shook his head.
"No. You were a child hearing about another person's private affairs. You weren't responsible for investigating every letter that entered the estate."
Soma appreciated the correction.
Even if he still wished he'd paid more attention.
"There's something about Melissa's history," he continued. "Something I remember from the Night's Eyes personnel records."
Preston's brows rose.
"You've been reading those?"
Soma hesitated.
"Some of them."
"How?"
"Very carefully."
Kara burst out laughing.
Preston rubbed his forehead.
"We'll discuss your library privileges later."
"Wonderful. Something to look forward to."
Soma reached for the personnel ledger.
"Melissa's name wasn't always Livingston."
The intelligence advisor looked up.
"That's correct."
"Before her enslavement, she was Melissa McKenzie."
Silence spread across the table.
Jaspar folded his arms.
"Go on, boy."
Melissa had once lived in New Sun, where she'd attended Sunreach Academy and become involved with an adventurer named Michael McKenzie.
Their marriage had lasted eight difficult years.
While Melissa worked for a merchant conglomerate, Michael had joined a combat guild known as the Tilted Scales.
The guild wasn't legendary, but it had earned a respectable reputation completing dangerous contracts.
Then came the mission that supposedly killed Michael.
"The Tilted Scales accepted a rescue assignment inside an A-rank temple," Soma explained. "A lower-ranked adventuring party had become trapped during a monster surge."
Kara nodded.
"I remember hearing about that disaster."
"Michael's team entered first," Soma continued. "Their Nexus systems sent out a distress signal after they encountered a major trap. Then their mana signatures disappeared."
Five days later, only five members of the larger expedition returned.
Their account described a catastrophic attack by mutated monsters.
A recovery team was eventually dispatched, but although they found destroyed equipment and considerable blood, no identifiable remains of Michael's group were recovered.
"The official report classified them as dead," Soma said.
Jaspar nodded.
"Reasonable under the circumstances."
"Yes. But something happened before Michael entered that temple."
He looked toward Preston.
"Three days before the mission, Michael changed his will."
The Archduke's expression tightened.
"To whom?"
"His mother."
The intelligence advisor began examining his records.
Soma continued.
"Melissa was removed as his beneficiary. The insurance payment, his savings, and the family estate all passed to his mother."
The king leaned forward.
"And Melissa?"
"She inherited nothing."
No one spoke.
"Then the creditors came," Soma said quietly.
Michael had apparently accumulated enormous debts with a criminal syndicate.
When the collectors discovered that his widow had received nothing from the insurance settlement, they assaulted her outside her workplace.
Bruised and desperate, Melissa had returned to the family estate seeking help.
Instead, her mother-in-law ordered her to leave.
That night, slavers entered the house.
Melissa was taken in chains.
Soma paused.
"She saw her mother-in-law watching from the balcony."
Kara's expression darkened.
"Gods damn that woman."
"The sale price matched the outstanding debt," Soma finished.
A grim silence followed.
"And afterward?" Preston asked.
"The McKenzie family disappeared. The estate was abandoned. Michael's mother vanished with the insurance money."
The king sat back slowly.
"That is a remarkable collection of coincidences."
Soma nodded.
"Too many for me to ignore."
"How does Samantha fit into this?" Jaspar asked.
Soma looked toward the personnel ledger.
"Melissa and Samantha arrived at Locke Manor on the same day. Both were purchased from a black-market slaver operating in Viperia."
He paused.
"Samantha was eventually assigned to me. Melissa remained in general household service until she was transferred to Simon's quarters."
The advisor checked another document.
"That transfer was approved shortly before the expedition."
Soma nodded.
"Which gave Melissa direct access to Simon's correspondence."
"And an opportunity to forge his handwriting," Preston observed.
"Possibly."
Jaspar looked at Soma.
"You're being unusually cautious."
Soma gave him a tired smile.
"Someone recently told me that a convincing theory isn't the same as proof."
The captain grunted.
"Sounds like a clever bastard."
"A deeply unpleasant one."
Kara laughed.
Soma continued.
"I believe Michael McKenzie may still be alive."
The room fell quiet.
The king's expression sharpened.
"Explain."
"The body was never recovered. The will was changed immediately before the mission. His mother received the insurance payment, Melissa was sold, and the family vanished."
Soma looked around the table.
"Any one of those details could have an innocent explanation. Together, they suggest the possibility that Michael arranged his disappearance."
"And the letters?" Jaspar asked.
"Maybe he found Melissa again."
"After nearly ten years?"
"That's one part I can't explain yet," Soma admitted. "But if someone contacted her with proof that Michael was alive, it would explain why she was so shaken."
Kara frowned.
"Doesn't explain why she'd help him after what his family did."
"No," Soma answered. "It doesn't."
And that bothered him.
If Melissa had been manipulated, threatened, or offered something she desperately needed, the investigation had yet to establish it.
He wasn't prepared to invent her reasons.
He wanted to hear them from Melissa herself.
One of the intelligence advisors hurried from the room to retrieve the McKenzie property records.
While they waited, Soma studied the map of Cyradon.
Haven Port.
The destination of the expedition.
The bandits had been waiting along the road.
And Jaspar had given Soma less than an hour's notice before departure.
"Captain," he said.
Jaspar looked up.
"How many people knew our exact route before you announced the expedition?"
"Very few."
"Could Melissa have sent a message after I was told to prepare?"
"Possibly."
"But the bandits were already in position when we arrived."
Jaspar nodded slowly.
Soma traced the road toward Haven Port.
"Then whoever organized the ambush had to be nearby, or already prepared to act along several possible routes."
"That's reasonable," Jaspar agreed.
"A group operating out of Haven Port would have access to the road. They could assemble quickly if a courier brought them a final departure time."
Kara leaned over the map.
"You're thinking the criminals were based in the town?"
"It's a possibility."
The doors opened.
The intelligence advisor returned carrying a folder.
"We have the property records."
He spread the documents across the table.
Soma's eyes moved quickly over the entries.
Then stopped.
A large establishment in Haven Port's Red Light District had changed ownership shortly after the McKenzie family disappeared.
A brothel and gambling hall.
The Red Distraction.
The buyer's registered name was Michael.
No verified family name.
Payment had been made in gold through intermediaries.
Soma slowly raised his head.
"Father."
Preston followed his gaze.
The king leaned forward.
Jaspar stared at the document.
"Well, fuck me."
Kara snorted.
"Not even if you paid me."
"That wasn't an invitation!"
For a brief moment, laughter broke the tension.
Then the king held up one hand.
Silence returned.
"Do we know this Michael is Michael McKenzie?"
"No, Your Majesty," the advisor replied. "Not yet."
"But we have a suspicious business purchase, an apparently dead adventurer, a missing maid, and forged correspondence."
"Yes."
The king looked toward Soma.
"And you believe they connect."
Soma nodded.
"I believe they might."
He paused.
"Enough that I think someone should investigate immediately."
Jaspar folded his arms.
"If Melissa went to Haven Port, she may already be there."
"Check the gate records," Soma said. "And the courier departures. If she left the estate after the ambush, someone may have seen her."
The king turned toward his intelligence officers.
"Do it."
One advisor departed at once.
Preston looked at his son.
"If your theory is correct, Melissa may have helped arrange your kidnapping."
Soma stared at the table.
He remembered Melissa bringing fresh linens to the library.
Her occasional arguments with Samantha.
The way she always greeted him respectfully, even when he was a mischievous toddler making the servants' lives miserable.
He'd known her almost his entire life.
"I know."
"And if Michael McKenzie is alive, he may be operating a criminal organization from Haven Port."
"I know."
Preston's expression softened.
"You don't have to solve this alone, son."
Soma looked up.
"I'm not trying to."
He hesitated.
"I'm just tired of seeing people I care about get hurt."
His father said nothing.
"Samantha nearly died. Simon nearly died. And someone decided I was worth more as a hostage than as a person."
Soma looked toward the parchment.
"I want to understand why."
Preston reached across the table and rested his enormous hand over his son's.
"So do I."
The king stood.
"Captain Jaspar, prepare a strike team from the Vanguard. I want a unit of the Night's Eyes accompanying them."
Jaspar saluted.
"Your Majesty."
"Investigate the Red Distraction. Secure its records, identify its owners, and determine whether Melissa is being sheltered there."
"Understood."
"If you find the people responsible for the attack on Soma, apprehend them."
The king's expression hardened.
"And if they resist, eliminate the threat."
Jaspar nodded.
Soma shifted uncomfortably.
"Your Majesty?"
The king looked toward him.
"Yes?"
"What about the people working there?"
"What about them?"
"Some may be involved. But the Red Distraction is a gambling hall and brothel. There could be people there who don't know anything about the kidnapping."
The room quieted.
Soma continued carefully.
"Servants. Patrons. People working there because they have nowhere else to go."
Preston watched him.
"If we attack the entire building without distinguishing between them, innocent people could die."
The king's eyes narrowed.
"You understand that the people who orchestrated this attack committed treason against the Crown."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"And you understand that leniency may allow dangerous criminals to escape."
"Yes."
"Then what would you have me do?"
Soma met his gaze.
"Punish the guilty."
The answer was quiet.
"But find out who they are first."
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Then Jaspar nodded.
"That's a sound concern."
The king looked toward him.
"We can establish a perimeter," Jaspar continued. "Control the exits, separate civilians from armed resistance, and secure the records before anyone destroys them."
Kara crossed her arms.
"Better than smashing the place flat and hoping the answers survive."
The king regarded them both.
Then he looked at Soma.
"Very well."
He turned toward Jaspar.
"Secure the establishment. Arrest the suspects. Bring Melissa alive if possible."
His voice became cold.
"But make no mistake, Captain. If Michael McKenzie is responsible for the bloodshed on the King's road, I intend for him to answer for every drop."
Jaspar bowed.
"As you command."
He turned toward the doors.
Then paused beside Soma.
"Not bad, brat."
Soma raised an eyebrow.
"Was that another compliment?"
"Don't make me regret it."
"Between you and Igor, I'm beginning to suspect kindness is considered a military weakness."
Kara laughed.
Jaspar shook his head and departed.
The situation room slowly emptied.
Intelligence officers gathered their reports.
Messengers hurried toward the military barracks.
Kara followed the Vanguard commanders, muttering about the quality of the armor she'd seen during the ambush.
Eventually, only Soma, Preston, the king, and Cardinal Rodriguez remained.
Soma sat quietly.
The events of the morning had left him more exhausted than he'd expected.
They had discovered a possible connection between Melissa, a man long presumed dead, and a criminal establishment in Haven Port.
But there were still questions.
Why would Melissa cooperate with someone whose family had destroyed her life?
Had Michael truly survived the temple disaster?
How much of Simon's disappearance had been arranged by Melissa?
And where did The Righteous fit into any of it?
Soma didn't know.
For once, he was content to admit that.
He would wait for evidence.
The king finally broke the silence.
"There's one more matter we must discuss."
Soma looked up.
"Please tell me it doesn't involve another dungeon."
Preston sighed.
"Son."
"I'm developing a rather strong dislike for those."
The king chuckled.
"No, Soma. No more dungeons."
Cardinal Rodriguez rose.
His immaculate white-and-gold vestments rustled as he approached the table.
"Forgive me for interrupting," he said gently, "but we have postponed our conversation long enough."
Soma glanced toward his father.
Preston's expression grew solemn.
The Cardinal stopped a few feet away.
"Yesterday, you showed me something that should not be possible according to the records of the Holy Cathedral."
Soma looked down at his hand.
The small cut had healed completely.
Only the memory remained.
"Your blood," Rodriguez continued, "is unlike anything documented in the known mortal lineages."
He paused.
"And I have reason to believe its existence may connect to a much older mystery."
Soma's stomach tightened.
"What mystery?"
Rodriguez's expression changed.
The gentle scholar disappeared.
In his place stood a man confronting something he had spent years studying, praying over, and perhaps fearing.
"Something recorded in the oldest sealed texts of the Cathedral."
The Cardinal looked directly into Soma's eyes.
"Something concerning a soul that does not belong to this world."
Soma went still.
For ten years, he had known one extraordinary truth about himself.
He had been born before.
Somewhere else.
In another life he could not fully remember.
He had never understood why.
And now, standing before him, was a Cardinal who seemed to know that such a thing might be possible.
Soma slowly raised his eyes.
"Your Eminence..."
His voice sounded strangely distant.
"How much do you know about reincarnation?"