Opening Night
The gates of Solmere had never seen this many people.
Light spilled into the streets.
Lanterns floated overhead—
Hundreds of them.
Drifting into the night sky like newborn stars.
Music filled the air.
Laughter followed.
For the first time in weeks—
There were screams.
But not of fear.
Children raced through the streets, shouting and playing, their joy echoing between buildings that had once known only struggle.
Performers occupied temporary stages throughout the city.
Musicians competed with one another from opposite ends of crowded streets.
Food stalls filled the air with smells from across the United Kingdoms.
Elven pastries.
Rabbitkin vegetables.
Dwarven meats.
Human dishes.
Foods Jax recognized.
Foods he didn't.
And several things Nyxian had assured him were edible despite looking like they had recently tried to escape.
Tonight—
Solmere lived.
And Jax intended to enjoy it.
Jax and the Vixens
Jax moved through the crowd like he belonged to it.
Because he did.
Llandra walked beside him.
Bunny had already disappeared twice toward food stalls.
Zee seemed determined to inspect every healer's station despite being repeatedly reminded she was not working tonight.
Nyxian had purchased another cheap replica of Lilith's Kiss.
She now owned four.
Jax had stopped asking why.
Pixelle darted overhead.
Lexi flew considerably closer to the ground, occasionally stopping to inspect something with the unmistakable expression of someone searching for logistical failures.
Jax greeted vendors by name when he could.
By respect when he couldn't.
Owners.
Workers.
Didn't matter.
To Jax—
They were all part of what Solmere had become.
He stopped at a food stall.
Something smelled familiar.
Not completely.
Jax stared at what the vendor was wrapping in flatbread.
"Are those the burritos I taught you guys to make?"
The vendor smiled.
"Mostly."
"Mostly?"
"Seasoned meat. Beans. Cheese. Vegetables. Wrapped in flatbread."
Jax nodded.
That was definitely his.
"But we changed the cheese to one from a local vendor. And we upgraded the meat."
Jax paused.
They'd changed it.
Not because his version was bad.
Because they'd found a way to make it better.
Jax smiled.
That sounded—
Wonderful.
"Give me two."
Bunny appeared beside him.
"I want one."
"I know."
The vendor handed them over.
Jax passed one to Bunny.
"Try this."
She immediately started raising it toward her mouth.
"Wait."
Bunny froze.
Jax pointed toward a container of red sauce.
"Add a little of that first."
Bunny looked at the sauce.
Then at Jax.
"Why?"
"Trust me."
She did.
A bite.
A pause.
Her eyes widened.
"Oh."
Another bite.
"Oh, that's dangerous."
Jax took a bite of his own.
He stopped.
The vendor watched him.
Jax chewed.
Slowly.
Then took another bite.
The meat really was better.
So was the cheese.
The original idea was his.
This wasn't.
He liked that.
A lot.
"Keep doing this."
The vendor blinked.
"Doing what?"
"Making my ideas better."
The man's smile grew.
Nyxian leaned closer.
"Let me guess. He's right again?"
Bunny nodded enthusiastically.
"He's always right."
"Don't encourage that."
Jax smiled.
"I like her."
"You married her."
"Excellent decision on my part."
Bunny's ears bounced happily as she took another bite.
A few stalls later—
Jax stopped again.
"Zee."
She turned.
He handed her a fried pretzel.
"Dip this in the cheese."
Zee inspected it.
"Then add a little salt."
Her eyes rose.
"Both?"
"Both."
She obeyed.
One bite.
Zee stopped walking.
Jax waited.
Her expression softened into quiet amazement.
"How do you know these things?"
Jax shrugged.
"Experience."
Nyxian leaned toward him.
"From your old world?"
Jax hesitated.
Maybe.
Sometimes he knew things.
Foods.
Ideas.
Words.
Concepts.
The memories themselves were gone.
But pieces remained.
"Maybe."
Then he smiled.
"And a little trial and error."
The Business Behind the Festival
Jax's businesses were getting destroyed.
In the best possible way.
Lines stretched down entire streets.
Restaurants had waiting lists.
Hotels throughout the portal network were full.
Temporary booths sold food almost as quickly as workers could make it.
One booth in particular—
Was chaos.
Jax stopped.
Powdered sugar filled the air.
Golden fried dough disappeared beneath fruit, syrup, cream, and enough sugar to concern Zee professionally.
It wasn't exactly a funnel cake.
But it was dangerously close.
And apparently Solmere had discovered diabetes.
The line stretched halfway down the street.
Jax slipped around back.
The workers saw him.
"Sir!"
"Relax."
They didn't relax.
Not even close.
Jax watched.
Ten seconds.
That was all he needed.
Everyone was doing everything.
One worker poured batter.
Then abandoned it to add toppings.
Another took payment before running back to the fryer.
Two nearly collided carrying finished orders.
Someone was searching for strawberries while holding an unfinished order.
Someone else was standing beside strawberries while looking for powdered sugar.
Jax sighed.
"Stop."
Everyone froze.
"You."
He pointed.
"Batter."
Another.
"Fry."
Another.
"Toppings."
Another.
"Serve."
They stared at him.
Jax stepped between them.
"Watch."
Batter.
Fry.
Move.
Toppings.
Serve.
The next order followed immediately behind it.
Then another.
Then another.
Nobody crossed paths.
Nobody abandoned a station.
Nobody had to remember five different things at once.
Within minutes—
Chaos became rhythm.
The line started moving.
Fast.
The workers looked at one another.
Then at Jax.
"Keep it tight and you'll double output."
The manager stared at the rapidly shrinking line.
"I think we might triple it."
"Even better."
Jax turned to leave.
Then stopped.
"Oh."
They looked at him.
"If you hit your target early?"
He smiled.
"Bounce out."
The reaction was immediate.
Cheers.
Jax laughed as he stepped back into the festival.
They knew what that meant.
Hit the team's goal early—
Go enjoy the festival.
Full pay.
Management finished the shift.
Jax had introduced Bounce Outs at most of his businesses for exactly that reason.
Success shouldn't earn someone more work.
Hit the goal early?
Go home.
Or tonight—
Go enjoy the festival.
And the managers didn't complain.
A Bounce Out meant the team had already hit its numbers.
Their bonuses climbed with the profits.
Workers wanted the time.
Managers wanted the bonus.
Everybody wanted to hit the goal.
Funny how quickly people worked when success actually benefited them.
The Legends of Solmere
The artwork was everywhere.
Jax had noticed some of it during the preparations.
He hadn't realized how much there was.
Paintings.
Posters.
Carvings.
Cheap figurines.
One sculptor was working on something that appeared to be a life-sized statue of Bunny holding World Breaker.
Another booth sold painted portraits of all four Vixens.
Some were impressively accurate.
Others—
Bunny stopped.
She stared.
Everyone else stopped with her.
The painting covered most of a wall.
Bunny stood triumphantly atop a mountain of defeated monsters.
World Breaker rested over one shoulder.
Her blue hair flowed dramatically behind her.
Her clothing was—
Generous.
In certain areas.
Bunny tilted her head.
"Are my breasts really that large?"
Jax looked.
Then immediately realized there was no safe answer to that question.
Nyxian, however—
Had no such concerns.
She stepped toward the painting.
"Hmm."
She placed one hand against the enormous painted breast.
Then held her other hand in front of Bunny.
She squeezed the air experimentally.
Bunny stared at her.
Nyxian squinted at the painting.
Then at Bunny.
Then back again.
"I'm not sure which are bigger."
She squeezed the air again.
"Step up here. Let's test this out."
Bunny gasped.
Both hands immediately grabbed her own chest protectively.
"NO!"
Several people turned.
Bunny pulled them closer.
"You don't get them! They belong to Jax now!"
Jax blinked.
"No."
Bunny looked at him.
"They belong to you. I just borrow them from time to time."
Bunny considered that.
Her ears twitched.
"...Okay. That's fair."
Nyxian sighed.
"Dammit."
Jax kept walking.
That conversation had gone far enough.
Zee found her portrait next.
She stared.
Her head tilted one direction.
Then the other.
"Is my hair really that... uneven?"
Jax joined her.
He squinted.
"No."
Zee relaxed.
Nyxian looked over.
"They made you look like a startled bush."
Zee's expression fell.
Bunny snorted.
Llandra covered her mouth.
Jax tried very hard to keep his expression neutral.
Then—
Nyxian found hers.
She stopped.
Everyone else continued for several steps before noticing.
Jax turned.
"What?"
Nyxian pointed.
Her portrait was—
Something.
Black dress.
Black lace.
Black makeup.
Dark purple lipstick.
Purple flames.
A black choker.
An enormous moon behind her.
And—
For some reason—
Bats.
Lots of bats.
Nyxian stared.
"They made me look like a little Lolita goth girl."
Jax frowned.
"You're not a Lolita."
Nyxian looked at him.
"Thanks. I don't need to be some man's wet-dream fantasy."
Jax shrugged.
"You're every person's fantasy as you are."
Nyxian stopped.
Completely.
Jax took another step.
Then noticed she wasn't moving.
"Nyx?"
Her knees gave slightly.
Jax immediately stepped back and caught her arm.
"Whoa."
He looked her over.
"You okay?"
Nyxian stared at him.
Her lips parted.
Nothing came out.
Jax looked increasingly concerned.
"Nyxian?"
She swallowed.
"I might need twenty minutes of your time."
Jax blinked.
"Right now?"
"Right now."
He stared at her.
"Can I give you a big kiss and see if that works?"
Nyxian's eyes widened.
"Kiss me now before I have to run home and change pants."
Jax didn't need further instructions.
He leaned down.
Their lips met.
Nyxian's arms immediately wrapped around his neck.
The kiss deepened.
Her body pressed against his.
Their tongues entwined.
For several seconds—
The festival disappeared.
Then Nyxian finally pulled away.
Barely.
She took a breath.
Then another.
"Don't say such flirty things to me."
Jax stared at her.
He hadn't even realized he'd said anything particularly flirty.
He'd just told her the truth.
But apparently—
"Okay."
Nyxian stared at him.
"...That somehow made it worse."
Bunny laughed.
Zee's cheeks had turned bright red.
Llandra shook her head.
Jax still wasn't entirely sure what he'd done.
Nyxian took his hand.
"Just keep walking."
"Okay."
"Stop saying okay."
Jax looked at her.
Nyxian groaned.
They kept walking.
"LET ME TRY!"
Jax stopped.
That voice rarely led anywhere inexpensive.
He turned.
Pixelle hovered beside one of the festival's strength games.
The operator stared at her.
Then down.
Then considerably farther down.
Pixelle hovered three inches above the counter.
The hammer beside her was nearly thirty times her size.
The operator laughed.
"You want to swing that?"
Pixelle planted her hands on her hips.
"Yes."
"You can't even lift it."
Pixelle narrowed her pink eyes.
Jax arrived beside Bunny.
"Oh, no."
Bunny smiled.
"Oh, yes."
A crowd began gathering.
Seeing a three-inch Fairy attempt to wield a hammer thirty times her size was apparently excellent festival entertainment.
Pixelle grabbed the handle.
Nothing happened.
The operator smiled.
Then—
The hammer moved.
His smile disappeared.
Pixelle strained.
Her wings beat furiously.
Slowly—
The enormous hammer rose.
People cheered.
Pixelle grinned.
Higher.
Higher.
Then—
"GO!"
She swung.
BANG!
The hammer slammed into the plate.
The weight launched upward.
First marker.
Second.
Third.
Fourth.
DING!
It struck the bell.
Hard.
Too hard.
The bell tore loose.
Everyone looked up.
It disappeared into the darkness.
Jax sighed.
Several seconds later—
It came back down.
He caught it.
The operator stared at him.
Then at Pixelle.
Then at his destroyed machine.
Jax held up the bell.
"I'll pay for it."
Pixelle threw both arms into the air.
"I WIN!"
The crowd cheered.
"BEST FESTIVAL EVER!"
Jax handed the bell back to the operator.
The man stared at Pixelle.
"I didn't even know Fairies could do that."
Jax looked at her.
Pixelle was already demanding her prize.
"I'm beginning to think nobody knows what Fairies can do."
Bunny grabbed his arm.
"You still owe me three more food stalls."
Jax looked at her.
"Three?"
"Minimum."
"Fine."
Bunny's ears bounced.
Llandra laughed.
And forty-seven yards away—
A man released a bowstring.
He was good.
Very good.
First in his academy.
Three years straight.
He had trained in moving targets.
Wind compensation.
Low-light shooting.
Extreme-range shooting.
Silent positioning.
Magical countermeasures.
Target prediction.
He could judge the direction of a crosswind from the movement of hair at a hundred yards.
He could release a bowstring between sounds so the shot itself disappeared beneath surrounding noise.
Tonight—
The music was perfect.
The crowd was loud.
The wind was favorable.
The target was stationary.
Llandra.
Elf.
Archer.
Wife of Jax Darquebane.
Dangerous.
But unaware.
The assassin had changed positions four times.
No repeated observation point.
No predictable route.
No magical communication after reaching the rooftop.
No silhouette against the skyline.
No unnecessary movement.
His Cheshire Cat mask remained hidden completely in darkness.
He'd done everything correctly.
He waited.
Llandra laughed.
Her head turned.
There.
The assassin drew.
Held.
Released.
The arrow flew.
Perfect.
Base of the skull.
She would never hear it.
Never feel—
A hand moved.
The assassin blinked.
His eye remained against the enchanted lens.
No.
Impossible.
Jax Darquebane stood beside his wife.
Still smiling.
Still listening to whatever the women were discussing.
And between two fingers—
He held the arrow.
The assassin stopped breathing.
No.
He replayed the moment in his mind.
Had the Elf seen him?
No.
She was still smiling.
Still talking.
No idea what had almost happened.
Had Darquebane looked toward the rooftop?
No.
Had someone warned him?
Impossible.
No communication stone.
No signal.
Nothing.
Jax looked at the arrow.
The assassin's stomach tightened.
Poison.
Enough to kill most people within seconds.
Jax carefully snapped the shaft.
Then removed the poisoned arrowhead without touching its tip.
He stepped toward a metal refuse container.
Dropped the poisoned head inside.
Closed it.
Then—
He returned to his family.
The assassin slowly exhaled.
Maybe he should fire a second arrow—
Jax's hand rose behind his back.
One finger extended.
It moved slowly.
Side to side.
No.
The assassin's blood went cold.
He knew.
Not suspected.
Not lucky.
Knew.
But Jax never looked at him.
That was worse.
Much worse.
The assassin grabbed the communication stone beneath his collar.
"Abort."
Static.
Then—
"What?"
"Abort."
His voice remained controlled.
Barely.
"All teams abort."
"Why?"
"He knows."
A pause.
"Who?"
The assassin stared through the lens.
Jax was walking away.
Llandra still laughing beside him.
"Darquebane."
"How?"
The assassin swallowed.
"I don't know."
Across the surrounding rooftops—
Figures began moving.
"All teams withdraw. Third safehouse."
The assassin lowered his lens.
He climbed over the rear edge of the building.
Fast.
Controlled.
Professional.
He descended the fire escape.
Reached the alley.
Then moved.
His training took over.
Don't run.
Running attracted attention.
Walk quickly.
Change direction.
Use crowds when available.
Never look behind you unless necessary.
He knew all of that.
He'd taught some of it.
But his mind wouldn't stop.
He caught it.
Not deflected.
Not blocked.
Caught.
Between two fingers.
The assassin turned down another alley.
He never looked at me.
That was what bothered him most.
If Jax had attacked—
He could understand that.
If guards had surrounded the building—
He could understand that.
If the Elf had returned fire—
He could understand that.
But Jax hadn't even stopped enjoying the festival.
He'd caught the arrow.
Disposed of the poison.
And wagged his finger.
Not now.
Like killing him wasn't important enough to interrupt the festival.
The assassin increased his pace.
Third safehouse.
Regroup.
Disappear.
Leave Solmere.
Report failure.
He reached another alley.
Empty.
Good.
Halfway through—
He stopped.
Something was wrong.
He didn't know what.
But perception was one of the greatest weapons an elite archer possessed.
You noticed movement.
Patterns.
Things that didn't belong.
The assassin scanned the alley.
Nothing.
Then—
His eyes moved toward the wall.
His shadow.
It moved.
Not with him.
The assassin spun.
His hand found an arrow.
Fast.
Faster than most men could draw a sword.
He never got it onto the string.
Something rose directly from his shadow.
Human-shaped.
Black.
Silent.
A blade punched through his chest.
The assassin gasped.
His bow slipped from his fingers.
The Shadow Ninja caught it before it struck the ground.
Not a sound.
The assassin stared down.
Black steel protruded from his chest.
His mouth opened.
"How...?"
The Shadow stared at him.
"When...?"
The blade withdrew.
His knees buckled.
The Shadow caught him too.
No body striking stone.
No weapon clattering across the alley.
Nothing.
The assassin had spent his life learning to move without being heard.
In his final seconds—
He understood the difference between being quiet—
And being a Shadow.
The Ninja carried him toward a refuse carrier.
Opened it.
Placed him inside.
Then sank back into the darkness.
The alley was empty again.
Jax reached into his pocket.
Tele-Stone.
"Soren."
The stone activated.
"I read you."
Jax glanced toward Llandra.
Alive.
Happy.
Completely unaware.
Good.
"I think we're going to need a cleanup on aisle three."
There was a brief pause.
Then—
"I read you loud and clear."
Jax put the Tele-Stone away.
Bunny appeared beside him carrying enough food to feed several people.
She held one out.
"Want some?"
"Absolutely."
And they continued walking.
The second assassin had received the abort order.
He didn't understand it.
The operation had been planned for weeks.
Every route mapped.
Every guard rotation studied.
Every target observed.
Then one message.
He knows.
That wasn't enough.
It had to be.
He crossed the rooftop.
Jumped.
Cleared the gap.
Landed.
Rolled.
Continued.
No pursuit.
He reached the next building.
Stopped.
Something felt wrong.
He spun.
Nothing.
Empty rooftop.
No guards.
No archers.
No Darquebane.
Nothing.
He waited.
Three seconds.
Five.
Nothing.
His imagination.
He turned back.
His shadow rose from the roof.
The blade entered beneath his ribs.
The Shadow Ninja caught him before he fell.
Silence returned.
Not that it had ever left.
Two streets away—
Another assassin removed her white Cheshire mask.
She'd heard the abort.
She didn't know why.
That didn't matter.
Orders were orders.
She reversed her dark coat.
Covered her hair.
Concealed her weapons.
Changed her posture.
Then stepped into the festival.
Thousands of people surrounded her.
Families.
Merchants.
Performers.
Visitors.
Perfect.
She walked.
Didn't run.
Never looked directly behind herself.
She used windows instead.
Polished metal.
Glass.
Anything reflective.
Nobody followed.
She stopped at a food stall.
Bought something sweet.
Ate half of it while watching the reflection in the vendor's metal serving tray.
Still nobody.
She smiled.
They'd escaped.
Whatever had happened—
Darquebane hadn't found her.
She discarded the food and continued.
Third safehouse.
Several streets away.
She took the longer route.
Changed direction twice.
Passed through the rear entrance of a tavern.
Exited through the kitchen.
Still clean.
She entered a narrow alley.
Almost there.
Then stopped.
Lantern light cast her silhouette across the stone.
One woman.
One shadow.
She exhaled.
Paranoid.
She started walking again.
Her shadow followed.
Then—
It split.
The assassin froze.
Two silhouettes stretched across the wall.
Only one person stood in the alley.
Her hand moved toward her knife.
The second shadow swallowed the first.
She never made a sound.
Another made it four blocks.
One reached the Portal District.
Another doubled back twice, changed elevation, crossed through a tavern, exited through the kitchen, then used a drainage corridor beneath the street.
He was particularly proud of that route.
Nobody could follow him.
Nobody did.
The darkness was already waiting when he arrived.
The assassins had prepared for guards.
They'd prepared for magic.
They'd prepared for Llandra.
They'd prepared for Soren Nightclaw.
They'd even prepared contingencies for Jax Darquebane.
They hadn't prepared for Solmere's shadows belonging to him.
One by one—
They disappeared.
Silent.
Final.
No screaming.
No battles spilling into the streets.
No terrified civilians.
The music never stopped.
The lanterns continued rising.
And the assassins—
Were assassinated.
But not all of them.
Two escaped.
They knew it.
And as they moved toward the third safehouse—
They began to believe they knew why.
Skill.
Experience.
Training.
They were the leaders for a reason.
Neither noticed the shadows beneath their feet.
The two surviving leaders reached the third safehouse.
One knocked.
Three.
Pause.
Two.
Pause.
Four.
The door opened.
"What happened?"
"We've been compromised."
The man inside frowned.
"Impossible."
"He's tracking us."
"Who?"
The leader pushed inside.
"Darquebane."
That changed everything.
The door closed.
Inside—
People moved.
Maps came off walls.
Documents were gathered.
Communication stones smashed.
A woman grabbed a stack of surveillance reports.
"How much does he know?"
"We don't know."
"Did anyone follow you?"
"No."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
The leader was certain.
He'd checked.
Twice.
Nothing had followed them.
No guards.
No intelligence agents.
No Vixens.
No Jax.
Nothing.
"Then we still have time."
Another man pointed toward the documents.
"Burn everything."
"We can't move all the equipment."
"Leave it."
"What about the contingency?"
Silence.
Everyone looked toward the corner.
A metal sphere sat within a reinforced wooden cradle.
Runes covered its surface.
Six mana crystals surrounded a larger central crystal.
Thin engraved channels connected them.
The device had taken months to construct.
Expensive.
Illegal.
Extremely unstable.
And devastating if activated correctly.
The leader stared at it.
"We need to ready the bomb."
Several people froze.
"Now?"
"They're onto us."
"That's not what it was intended for."
"The operation failed. We move to contingency."
One of the others shook his head.
"We don't know where Darquebane is."
"We aren't targeting Darquebane anymore."
The leader pointed toward a map.
Portal District.
Crowd concentrations.
Escape routes.
"We detonate here."
A finger touched the map.
Thousands of festival visitors were currently packed into that area.
The bomb itself wouldn't destroy Solmere.
It didn't need to.
The blast would kill hundreds.
Maybe more.
Then panic would do the rest.
Thousands fleeing.
Active portals.
Confined streets.
Families separated.
People trampling one another.
Emergency services overwhelmed.
Solmere's celebration would become a massacre.
"Do it."
They moved.
Nobody noticed the darkness beneath the door through which the leaders had entered.
It remained there.
Perfectly still.
Then—
Something emerged.
The first man felt pressure in his back.
His eyes widened.
He looked down.
A black sword protruded from his chest.
His mouth opened.
Blood came instead.
Everyone spun.
The blade withdrew.
The Shadow caught him before he struck the floor.
Behind him stood a figure made of darkness.
"What the hell—"
Weapons appeared.
The leader drew twin knives.
A-Rank assassin.
The man beside him drew a sword.
B-Rank.
The Shadow Ninja moved.
Fast.
The assassin struck first.
Nothing.
The Shadow shifted sideways.
The swordsman attacked from the opposite direction.
His blade smashed through a chair.
The Shadow was already somewhere else.
"Behind you!"
The assassin spun.
Steel met shadow.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The assassin smiled.
Fast.
But not unbeatable.
He attacked again.
The Shadow retreated.
The swordsman joined him.
Two against one.
They pressed.
The Shadow dodged.
Turned.
Moved between them.
Elegant.
Precise.
The swordsman swung.
The Shadow ducked.
Its blade flashed.
A shallow cut opened across the swordsman's thigh.
He grunted.
Nothing serious.
He attacked again.
The Shadow moved away.
The assassin came from behind.
His knife passed through empty air.
"Stop moving!"
Another flash.
The swordsman's arm opened.
Another shallow cut.
He backed away.
"Hold still, you bastard!"
The Shadow disappeared into the darkness beneath the table.
The assassin froze.
"Where—"
His own shadow moved.
The Ninja emerged behind him.
He barely blocked.
Barely.
The swordsman moved to help.
His leg buckled.
He stumbled.
"What?"
He tried again.
His leg didn't respond correctly.
Heavy.
Slow.
His sword arm felt wrong too.
Cold spread from the wounds.
His eyes widened.
"Poison."
The assassin looked at him.
"What?"
"The blade."
The swordsman backed away.
"It's poisoned."
The Shadow Ninja stood between them and the bomb.
Silent.
Waiting.
The swordsman understood.
They weren't winning.
Forget the fight.
The bomb.
He turned.
Ran.
His bad leg dragged.
Three steps.
The Shadow vanished into the floor.
Two.
The swordsman reached toward the activation rune.
One—
His own shadow opened beneath him.
Black steel passed through his back.
He stopped.
His fingers hovered inches from the rune.
"No..."
The blade withdrew.
He collapsed into waiting darkness.
The A-Rank assassin stared.
He'd seen Shadow magic before.
This wasn't Shadow magic.
This was something else.
The Ninja emerged again.
The assassin attacked.
Twin knives.
Fast.
Precise.
A-Rank.
Good enough to kill almost anyone he'd ever encountered.
The Shadow met him.
Knife.
Sword.
Knife.
Sword.
He blocked.
Dodged.
Countered.
He was good.
Very good.
And for several seconds—
He thought that might matter.
The Shadow stepped inside his guard.
Something cold crossed his abdomen.
He jumped backward.
Too late.
Blood spread across his clothing.
Not deep.
The assassin smiled.
"Missed."
Then his stomach went cold.
His fingers weren't moving correctly.
His knees felt heavy.
The room seemed slower.
No.
He was slower.
His smile disappeared.
"Poison."
The Shadow hadn't missed.
It hadn't been trying to kill him with that cut.
The cut had only needed to deliver the poison.
The assassin looked toward the bomb.
Then toward the Shadow.
"No."
The Ninja advanced.
The assassin backed away.
"No, no, no—"
He turned.
Lunged toward the activation rune.
He never reached it.
Ten minutes later—
The safehouse door opened.
Warden entered first.
Black armor.
Massive.
Silent.
His eyes swept across the room.
Bodies.
Weapons.
Magical equipment.
The bomb.
No threats remained.
Warden stepped aside.
"My liege's allies may enter."
Soren Nightclaw walked through.
Four intelligence officers followed.
Two were Catkin.
One immediately approached the magical explosive.
Another began inspecting the maps.
The third moved toward the surveillance equipment.
The fourth checked the bodies.
"Room secured."
Soren nodded.
"Document everything."
They moved.
Efficient.
Professional.
The bomb specialist crouched beside the device.
He examined the runes.
Then the mana crystals.
His fingers moved carefully over the outer housing.
"Trigger is magical."
Another officer joined him.
"Can you disable it?"
The specialist snorted.
"Please."
He removed a small tool.
One rune went dark.
Then another.
The central crystal dimmed.
Safe.
The officer looked at the bodies.
Then at the bomb.
"Amateurs."
Soren stepped past him.
"No."
The officer looked up.
Soren studied the room.
Maps covered one wall.
Portal schedules.
Crowd estimates.
Guard rotations.
Emergency response times.
Drawings of Jax.
Llandra.
Bunny.
Zee.
Nyxian.
Locations.
Businesses.
Known associates.
Daily routines.
Surveillance logs.
Codes.
Communication schedules.
Escape routes.
Multiple safehouses marked throughout Solmere.
These people hadn't wandered into Solmere and decided to cause trouble.
They had studied it.
Planned.
Prepared.
Waited.
Soren looked toward the bodies.
"Professionals."
The room became quiet.
Soren stepped over one of them.
"They were just trying to attack someone close to Jax Darquebane."
The officers looked at the bodies again.
Then at Warden.
The black knight stood silently near the doorway.
Nobody spoke.
For several seconds—
They contemplated that.
Then went back to work.
Much later—
The festival had begun to slow.
Not stop.
Solmere apparently had no intention of stopping anytime soon.
But children were beginning to fall asleep against parents' shoulders.
Some vendors had started closing.
Musicians played slower songs.
And the lanterns—
Still rose.
Jax stood with his family near the edge of the market.
Bunny leaned against one arm.
Nyxian stood beside her, carrying far too many fake versions of her own weapon.
Zee watched the lanterns.
Pixelle sat on Lexi's shoulder, which Lexi was pretending not to notice.
And Llandra—
Llandra stood beside Jax.
She looked up.
Another lantern drifted overhead.
"It's beautiful."
Jax looked at her.
"Yeah."
She smiled.
He wasn't looking at the lantern.
Llandra noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
Jax smiled.
Then slipped an arm around her waist.
Llandra leaned into him.
She still didn't know.
None of them did.
Llandra had spent the entire evening laughing.
Eating.
Teasing her sisters.
Watching Pixelle nearly destroy festival equipment.
Living.
Exactly as Jax wanted.
Llandra rested her head against him.
Jax kissed the top of it.
Above them—
Another lantern disappeared into the stars.
Far beyond the festival lights—
Someone watched.
Not Cheshire.
Something else.
Hidden deeper.
The watcher had seen the operation unfold.
Seen the assassin prepare the shot.
Seen the arrow fly.
Seen Jax Darquebane catch it between two fingers.
Seen him dispose of the poison.
Seen him warn the shooter without ever looking toward the rooftop.
Then—
The assassins had begun disappearing.
One.
Then another.
Then another.
Professionals.
Experienced.
Prepared.
Gone.
Jax hadn't chased anyone.
The Vixens hadn't reacted.
Solmere's Enforcement Division hadn't flooded the streets.
There had been no alarm.
No panic.
No battle.
The festival hadn't even stopped.
And now—
Jax stood beneath the lanterns with his arm around the woman someone had tried to murder.
She was smiling.
She didn't even know.
The watcher remained perfectly still.
Watching Jax.
Watching Llandra.
Watching the lanterns climb into the darkness.
One professional team had fired one arrow.
And then ceased to exist.
The watcher remained for several moments longer.
Then—
"So that's how you protect them."
A lantern drifted between the watcher and Solmere.
By the time it passed—
There was no one there.