The Boy gagged, covering his nose with his sleeve.
Boy: "This place stinks. Are we rats now?"
Fuad didn't slow his pace, his boots splashing in the shallow gray water.
Fuad: "I don't know where you grew up, kid, but I lived in tunnels like these for most of my childhood. They kept me alive when the streets tried to kill me."
The Boy whispered, his voice soft and regretful.
Boy: "Sorry. I didn't mean it."
Fuad scoffed, the sound sharp in the echoing tunnel.
Fuad: "You pity me? Go to hell with your pity. It won't buy you bread down here."
Boy: Aww Scary! not the bread please!
They reached the end of the tunnel and pushed through a rusted grate.
They emerged into a vast, subterranean chamber—low-lit by glowing moss and sputtering torches. It was crowded, alive with whispers and the clink of illicit barter. People of all kinds moved through the shadows: cloaked figures, masked traders, silent watchers, and things that weren't quite human.
The Boy leaned close to Fuad’s side.
Boy: "Some of them look like Assassins..."
Fuad grinned, his eyes scanning the crowd for threats.
Fuad:Black Market. Paradise for outlaws, exiles, and dead men walking."
He approached a shady man sitting in a corner alcove. The man’s cloak was stitched with small animal bones that clicked when he moved.
Fuad: "One room. One night. No questions."
The Bone Man sneered, revealing a gold tooth.
Bone Man: "How many?"
Fuad snapped.
Fuad: "None of your business."
The man laughed, a dry, rattling sound.
Bone Man: "You passed the test. You and the kid look tired."
He stared at the Boy with cold, unreadable eyes, lingering a second too long.
Fuad growled, stepping between them.
Fuad: "What's your problem? Snake bite your eye?"
The man smirked, looking away.
Bone Man: "One gold coin."
Fuad grumbled, fishing the coin from his pouch and slapping it into the man's palm. He grabbed the iron key.
Fuad: "Come on."
He led the Boy into a narrow room carved directly from the stone. It was silent, damp, and smelled of mildew, but it had a lock.
Fuad: "Sleep well. We don't know what tomorrow holds."
The Boy lay down on the straw mattress, his eyes closing slowly, exhaustion finally winning.
Fuad sat on a wooden stool, staring at him.
He was drifting off, head nodding, when a knock came at the door.
The Bone Man stood in the doorway like a shadow. He held out his hand.
Bone Man: "Here."
He dropped a gold coin into Fuad's lap.
Fuad blinked, looking at the coin. It was the one he had just paid.
Fuad: "What? It's not fake. I paid you."
The man didn't move. His eyes flicked to the sleeping Boy, then back to Fuad.
Bone Man: "Not for payment. Someone else already paid for your room."
Fuad froze, his hand dropping to his dagger.
Fuad: "Who? We just got here."
The man smiled, but it didn't reach his dead eyes.
Bone Man: "Someone who cares."
The man turned and vanished into the hallway gloom.
Fuad sat back, his heart hammering against his ribs.
He looked at the door, then blocked it with the heavy stool.
He yawned, the adrenaline failing against his fatigue.
Fuad: "Tomorrow... I'll find out tomorrow..."
And he slept, one eye open.
·
Under Silva's Sky - Where Memory Meets Moonlight
Outside the inn, SylvanceSilva shimmered like scattered embers, and the moon hung low, casting a soft, silver glow over the desert's breathless silence.
Jawaher approached gently, her boots making no sound on the stone. Her voice was low and careful.
Jawaher: "Sylvance? Are you okay? We didn't mean to upset you inside..."
Sylvance whispered, her eyes still tracing the constellations.
Sylvance: "Thank you, Grandmother. I promise I won't disappoint you."
She wasn't speaking to the stars; she was speaking to the memory of them. She remembered the stories told by firelight in the deep woods. She felt the weight of the Fox Tooth pendant hanging beneath her tunic—the one her grandmother had crafted after Sylvance hunted the rare beast herself. That moment—her first rite of passage—was etched into bone and memory.
Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over.
Jawaher panicked, stepping closer, her tough exterior cracking instantly.
Jawaher: "What's wrong? Why are you crying? I'll get Jabir! I'll make him apologize! I'll punch him right in the beard!"
Sylvance turned, a smile breaking through her tears—soft and radiant.
Sylvance: "I'm not angry, Jawaher... I'm happy."
Her tears fell onto Aurik's dry, thirsty soil, mingling with the dust like water returning to its source.
Sylvance: "I miss my village. I miss her. But I'm grateful. She wanted to be in my place once—to see the world. She chose to stay and raise us instead. She still guards the roots so I can walk the path."
Jawaher exhaled, the tension leaving her shoulders. She pulled Sylvance into a firm, warm embrace.
Jawaher: "You silly girl. We can visit them anytime. Jabir is a fool, but he never says no to family. The Golden Threads stretch as far as we want them to."
Sylvance wiped her tears, her breath steadying in the cool night air.
Sylvance: "Thank you, Jawaher."
They returned to the warmth of the inn.
Inside, the party was over. Jabir had passed out from exhaustion, sprawled across a wooden bench like a fallen statue, his colorful cloak draped over him like a blanket.
Milham chuckled, wiping down the counter with a rag.
Milham: "He refused to go to his room until you both walked through that door. He kept saying, 'Ladies first.' Then he broke three of my favorite clay cups trying to toast to your health."
Sylvance laughed softly, the sound like wind rustling through leaves.
Milham sighed, shaking his head at the sleeping merchant.
Milham: "I didn't think my heirlooms would become punchlines. Curse you, Jabir..."
Jabir mumbled in his sleep, his voice slurred and heavy.
Jabir: "Ladies first... to the... palace..."
Jawaher groaned, rolling her eyes affectionately.
Jawaher: "Sylvance, help me drag this idiot to bed."
Milham waved them off, coming around the counter.
Milham: "Don't worry. I've been dragging Jabir to bed since we were twelve. I'll handle it. Make yourselves at home."
Sylvance hesitated, watching the large innkeeper lift Jabir with ease. She whispered to Jawaher.
Sylvance: "Is this safe? Can we trust him?"
Jawaher nodded firmly.
Jawaher: "He's Jabir's oldest friend. Jabir refuses to stay anywhere else in Aurik because Milham is the only one who doesn't put a knife in your back for a copper coin."
Sylvance relaxed, her shoulders easing.
Sylvance: "Alright then. Goodnight."
They headed to their rooms on the upper floor.
Sylvance lay down on the soft mattress, staring at the ceiling. The wooden beams were etched with old carvings—desert legends trapped in timber.
She closed her eyes, the Fox Tooth warm against her skin. She slept.
In the room beside her, Jawaher sat in silence on the edge of her bed, the moonlight brushing her cheek. She didn't sleep yet. She was cleaning her dagger.
She sheathed the dagger and blew out the candle.
And outside, the eternal stars of Silva kept watch over the Golden City.
·
The Black Market Inn — Where Seals Speak of Secrets
Fuad jolted awake.
The room was silent. Too silent. The rhythmic drip of the sewer water had stopped.
He looked at the other mattress.
Empty.
Fuad leapt to his feet, his heart hammering against his ribs like a war drum.
Fuad: "Kid? Where are you?!"
His eyes scanned the small, stone room—empty bedding, scattered dust, and a small leather pouch lying on the floor. It had been stepped on. Gold coins spilled from its mouth like a trail of betrayal, glinting in the dim torchlight from the hallway.
Fuad: "No... no no no..."
He grabbed his dagger, but his hands were shaking. Not from fear, but from rage.
Fuad: "They took him. That 'benefactor'... whoever paid for this room... they didn't do it for charity. They did it to mark us."
He slammed his fist against the wall.
The stone splintered slightly beneath his knuckles, the residue of Mercury's magic still lingering in his skin.
Fuad: (Shouting) "How could I let this happen?! I slept like a dead man!"
He rushed to the heavy wooden door. He grabbed the iron handle and pulled.
It didn't budge.
He pulled again, bracing his foot against the frame. It felt like he was trying to open a mountain.
Fuad: "Locked. From the outside."
He kicked it.
It didn't even vibrate.
Fuad: "Damn it! You think a wooden door can hold an Assassin?!"
He raised his dagger to pick the lock, but then he saw it.
A faint, violet light pulsing around the doorframe. Runes.
The Bone Man (The Innkeeper) appeared on the other side of the small barred window in the door, his face shadowed by a flickering torch. He looked annoyed.
Bone Man: "Quiet in there! You'll wake the dead. What's wrong?"
Fuad snarled, pressing his face to the bars, eyes wild.
Fuad: "You tricked me! You took the boy while I slept!"
The Bone Man blinked, genuinely confused. He looked around the hallway.
Bone Man: "What are you talking about? I haven't left my post. Step out and explain yourself."
Fuad: "I can't! The door won't open!"
The Bone Man frowned. He reached for his master key ring and tried to slide the key into the lock.
A spark of violet energy zapped his hand. He dropped the keys, hissing in pain.
Bone Man: "What in the dark...?"
He leaned closer, examining the doorframe. His annoyance vanished, replaced by pale fear.
Bone Man:Magical Seal."
Fuad's voice cracked.
Fuad: "What do you mean?"
The Bone Man whispered, looking over his shoulder as if the shadows were listening.
Bone Man: "Ancient. Reinforced. This is High Magic. Even a sand bomb wouldn't scratch this. Someone very powerful wanted you to stay put."
Fuad grabbed the bars, desperation rising in his throat.
Fuad: "Please. I have coins. I have skills. Just help me get out. The Boy is in danger."
The Bone Man backed away slowly, shaking his head.
Bone Man: "The Boy... He brought trouble with him. Big trouble. I don't deal with Mages."
Fuad: "Don't walk away!"
The Bone Man hesitated.
Bone Man:Karras."
Fuad: "Karras? Who the hell is Karras?"
Bone Man: "The only man down here strong enough to break a curse or find solutions."
The Bone Man turned and hurried down the corridor, his bone-stitched cloak rattling.
Fuad: "Wait! Come back!"
But the man was gone.
Fuad slid down the door, sitting on the cold stone floor among the scattered coins.
He was alone. Trapped by magic he didn't understand.
And somewhere in the labyrinth of Aurik, the Boy was being led into a darkness Fuad couldn't cut with a blade.
Morning in Aurik — Where Fate Tightens Its Grip
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Jabir stretched, his back cracking as he greeted the morning. The chirping of desert birds and the scent of saffron and roasting coffee drifted through the open windows of the Emerald Inn. The city stirred slowly, but his thoughts were already racing.
Jabir: "Alright... today's the day. I'll find that boy, buy him back, and maybe scold him for making me worry."
JawaherSylvanceMilham was behind the counter, polishing the bar and humming a tune older than Aurik's walls.
Jabir leaned against the counter, watching dust motes dance in the sunlight.
Jabir: "You deserve a break too, my friend. We nearly died in that valley. The things we saw..."
Milham nodded, wiping down a cracked mug with reverence.
Milham:Luminous Tree... I want to see it someday. I'll write songs about it that will make kings weep."
Jabir leaned in, his voice dropping to business.
Jabir: "Enough poetry. Any news about the Boy?"
Milham raised an eyebrow, pausing his work.
Milham: "You care that much? After he nearly got you killed by Assassins?"
Jabir looked away, his jaw tight.
Jabir: "Doesn't matter. He saved my life. I owe him."
Milham sighed, setting the mug aside. He looked around to ensure the tavern was empty.
Milham: "My sources in the Guard say a pair entered illegally last night. An unknown man—likely a rogue Assassin—and a child."
Jabir frowned.
Jabir: "How do they know it was an Assassin?"
Milham: "The patrols found a melted section of the outer wall near the North Gate. They say the stone was dissolved by a specialized alchemical venom—strong enough to eat through enchanted sandstone. That's a signature move."
Jabir's eyes narrowed.
Jabir: "And?"
Milham hesitated.
Milham:Korta Tunnels."
Jabir's voice dropped to a whisper.
Jabir: "The Black Market..."
Milham: "Exactly. That's where the Syndicate runs its off-book missions. Where stolen goods and forbidden magic are traded beneath the King's nose."
Jabir's fingers tapped a nervous rhythm on the counter.
Jabir: "If we find him there?"
Milham shook his head gravely.
Milham: "That's where my sources end. If we dig deeper into Korta, we'll attract attention we don't want. The Black Market has its own laws."
Jabir stood, his heavy cloak brushing the floor.
Jabir: "Thanks, Milham."
He turned to leave, but Milham's voice stopped him.
Milham: "Don't go to Korta today, Jabir. There was an incident last night."
Jabir turned back.
Jabir: "What kind of incident?"
Milham: "A slaughter. A group in black cloaks entered the tunnels in the dead of night. They killed the Tunnel Warden and his entire crew. Then vanished."
Jabir's eyes sharpened.
Jabir: "Black cloaks... The Order?."
Milham: "I didn't say that. But... yes."
Jabir nodded slowly.
Jabir: "I'll wait. I'll check the Slave Market perimeter first. Maybe they haven't moved him yet."
He stepped outside the inn.
The streets were tense. Unlike the lively chaos of the previous night, soldiers now patrolled in pairs, their hands resting on their sword hilts. They scanned every face in the crowd.
Jabir muttered under his breath.
Jabir:King Caesar."
A soldier approached him, armor clinking.
Soldier: "Sir, please remain indoors or move along. We're instituting a partial lockdown. We're searching for a dangerous group of insurgents."
Jabir stared at him, his voice cold.
Jabir:them... or about ?"
The soldier removed his helmet, revealing a tired, young face covered in sweat.
Soldier: "Just follow orders, sir. Please. It's not safe today."
Jabir softened. He nodded and returned to the inn.
Jabir: (To Milham) "The auction's canceled. Soldiers everywhere."
Milham nodded, not surprised.
Milham: "I figured. I already sent a boy to fetch the ladies from the market. They should be back soon."
Jabir sighed, rubbing his temples as he sat on a bench.
Jabir: "Thanks."
He whispered, staring into his empty cup.
Jabir: "Boy... who are you really? Why does fate keep pushing us apart just when I get close?"
Outside, the Golden City held its breath, waiting for the first drop of blood to fall.
The Depths of Korta — Where Pride Meets Chains
Karras arrived at Fuad's cell, his heavy iron-shod boots echoing against the wet stone like distant thunder. He was a small young man, scars traversing his arms like maps of violence.
He stopped at the bars, looking at the glowing seal.
Karras: "Fifty gold coins."
Fuad shouted, his voice raw from hours of yelling.
Fuad: "Fifty?! That's robbery! That's all I have! If I give you that, I'll starve before I even leave the tunnel!"
Karras sneered, crossing his massive arms.
Karras: "You caused chaos, Assassin. The tunnels shook with that magic. The Warden is dead. Now you haggle?"
Fuad gestured frantically toward the sealed door, its surface etched with pulsing violet runes.
Fuad: "These locks are ancient! Magical! Even my sand bombs failed to scratch them. Who placed them, Karras?"
Karras's expression darkened. He looked over his shoulder.
Karras: "We don't know. But we saw them leaving. Two men. High-level magic users. They entered the tunnels, killed the Warden instantly when he refused to hand over the boy, and then... they took him."
Fuad's voice cracked, the reality sinking in.
Fuad: "They took him..."
Karras leaned in, his face pressed against the bars.
Karras: "So, the price stands. Do you want to chase him... or rot here?"
Fuad hesitated. Then, with a scream of frustration, he threw his leather pouch through the bars. It landed with a heavy against the stone.
Fuad: "Take it! Open the damn door!"
Karras picked up the pouch, weighing it in his hand. He opened it, biting a coin to test the gold.
Karras: "I'll verify the rest. Wait here."
Fuad: "Wait?! You have the money! Open it!"
Karras:Academy. Or what's left of it. They'll know how to break this seal."
Fuad: "The Academy? You mean a dropout mage?"
Karras: "Better than you. Sit tight."
Karras walked away, the coins jingling in his pocket.
---
The tunnels were quiet now. Too quiet.
The Warden was dead. The Boy was gone.
Fuad slid down the wall, trembling.
He remembered his father's face—stern, disappointed.
Passersby in the corridor whispered as they walked past his cell, glancing at the glowing violet runes.
"Poor man..."
another "Don't look. He's cursed. He's losing it."
Fuad muttered, holding his head.
Fuad: "It was a trap... A clear trap... and I walked right in."
Hours passed. His head throbbed from dehydration.
The Bone Man (Innkeeper) returned, leaning casually against the bars.
Bone Man: "You look terrible. Want food? Everything costs coins."
Fuad checked his bag. Empty of gold. He had some dried meat (spoiled), his dagger, and some spare clothes. And... the Boy's small pouch.
He checked it. Empty.
Fuad: (Sighing) "I have no coin. Karras took it all."
He pulled out a spare tunic—fine silk he had stolen weeks ago.
Fuad: "Take this. Get me bread and water."
The Bone Man scoffed, fingering the fabric.
Bone Man: "Silk in a sewer? Fine. It's worth a loaf."
He took the clothes and turned to leave.
Fuad: "Wait. One favor."
Bone Man: "What now? You're out of silk."
Fuad reached into his vest and pulled out Ledra's Letter. The green wax seal was cracked slightly.
Fuad: "If Karras fails... If I die in here... I have a letter. Deliver it for me."
Bone Man: "What's the address?"
Fuad looked down at the paper. The ink meant nothing to him. The squiggles mocked him.
Fuad: "I... I don't know."
Bone Man: "You don't know?"
Fuad: (Whispering) "I can't read. I wanted to ask the Boy... but my pride stopped me. I didn't want him to know I was stupid."
The Bone Man stared at him for a long moment. Then he shrugged, pushing the letter back to Fuad.
Bone Man: "Keep it. I trust Karras. He's greedy, but he delivers. Besides... I don't do charity deliveries."
He slid a stale loaf of bread and a waterskin through the bars.
Bone Man: "Eat. You'll need your strength when the Mage arrives."
Fuad took the bread, his hands shaking. He sat in the dark, chewing the dry crust, and waited for a savior he had to buy.
Aurik's Alleys — Where Beauty Meets Warning
Milham's RunnerSylvance's face.
Runner: "Ladies!" he hissed, his voice low but urgent. "Milham asked me to bring you back immediately. The city's tense. The lockdown is starting."
Jawaher groaned, crossing her arms over her new silk robe.
Jawaher: "Now what? I haven't even haggled for the earrings yet."
Sylvance didn't turn immediately. Her fingers traced the edge of a jeweled clasp resting on a velvet tray—silver filigree wrapped around a deep blue sapphire, like vines choking a star.
Sylvance: "It's beautiful... but cold."
She pulled her hand away.
Sylvance: "Let's go, Jawaher. We'll come back."
Outside, the atmosphere in the alleys shifted. The air grew heavy.
Soldiers flooded the main street—boots pounding in unison, armor clinking, voices sharp and barking orders. Their presence wasn't ceremonial. It was a hunt.
The Runner stepped back, shielding the women instinctively with his small frame.
Runner: "This way... the side streets."
Jawaher narrowed her eyes, watching the patrol shove a merchant aside.
Jawaher: "They're searching for someone specific. Look at how they check the faces."
Sylvance whispered, her ears twitching at a sound only she could hear—the grind of metal on stone from the rooftops.
Sylvance:thing."
She glanced up. Shadows moved across the tiles above. Archers.
She turned to Jawaher and the Runner.
Sylvance: "We need to move. Now. Before they seal the district."
Sylvance nodded to the shopkeeper, slipping the sapphire clasp back onto the tray.
Shopkeeper: "Go! Go!"
Behind them, the shopkeeper slammed the heavy wooden shutters and locked the door.
CLICK.
Above them, yellow banners fluttered in the dry wind—bearing the Sun Crest of Aurik. But the threads were fraying.
The city was no longer just tense. It was holding a knife behind its back.
Aurik's Streets — Where Silence Warns
A strange, suffocating silence blanketed the streets of Aurik.
The usual hum of merchants haggling over spice, the clatter of heavy carts, the laughter of children chasing stray cats—all gone. In their place, patrols of City Guards filled the main thoroughfares. But they didn't march with the rhythm of an army; they shuffled.
SylvanceJawaher followed Milham's young messenger through the winding back alleys, their steps quiet, their senses sharp.
Sylvance whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind.
Sylvance: "Look at them... the guards."
Jawaher glanced at a patrol passing the alley mouth.
Jawaher: "What about them? They look heavily armed."
Sylvance's gaze lingered on the three men. Their armor hung loose on their frames, straps unbuckled or tied hastily. They held their heavy spears with white-knuckled grips, knuckles trembling.
Sylvance: "Their stances are wrong. Their weight is back on their heels, ready to run, not fight. And look at their hands—they hold their spears like walking sticks, not weapons."
She shook her head, her hunter's instinct screaming at her.
Sylvance: "They couldn't defeat a lone wolf, let alone an Assassin. They are prey pretending to be predators."
Jawaher frowned, her own warrior instincts stirring at the assessment.
Jawaher: "You think they're not ready?"
Sylvance nodded slowly.
Sylvance: "They are terrified, Jawaher. They are not prepared for what's coming. I can smell their sweat from here. It smells like fear."
Jawaher's voice dropped to a whisper, her hand drifting to her dagger.
Jawaher:Jabir. Something is rotting in this city."
They turned a sharp corner into a narrow market street.
A soldier standing watch flinched violently at the shadow of a passing bird.
Another soldier dropped his blade in surprise at the movement. The sound rang out like a gunshot in the quiet street. He scrambled to pick it up, fumbling with the hilt, his eyes darting around in panic.
Sylvance's heart quickened.
And somewhere beneath the golden sandstone towers, something stirred. Something the guards weren't trained to face.
The Emerald Inn — Where Rumors Become Warnings
JawaherSylvance burst into the Emerald Inn, the heavy door slamming behind them.
The common room was eerily quiet. No music. No laughter. Mulham stood behind the bar, polishing a glass with nervous, jerky hands, his eyes flicking toward the door every few seconds.
Jawaher scanned the room, her gaze sharp as a blade.
Jawaher: "Mulham, where's Jabir? He said he'd wait."
Mulham stammered, putting the glass down a little too hard.
Mulham:Korta Tunnels. Ha ha... you know Jabir..."
Jawaher groaned, dragging her hand down her face.
Jawaher: "I told him not to go! You're the one who brings every poisoned rumor in the city to this place, aren't you?"
Mulham raised his hands defensively.
Mulham: "He asked about the Boy! I answered! I didn't tell him to go charging in like a bull in a pottery shop!"
Sylvance stepped forward, shy but firm, her hand resting on her bow.
Sylvance: "Mulham? That's your name?"
Mulham blinked, caught off guard by the quiet girl.
Mulham: "Yes, miss. Can I... can I get you a drink?"
Sylvance shook her head.
Sylvance: "Maybe later. I want to know—what is really happening? The soldiers outside... they're shaking. They look like they expect the sky to fall."
Mulham sighed, his shoulders slumping. He grabbed a rag and wiped the counter with slow, deliberate strokes.
Mulham:Black CoatsDelyn, the Korta Gatekeeper, without drawing a blade. Rumor says they took the Boy—and sealed the man who brought him inside a room with magic we've never seen."
He poured a shot of strong spirits, his voice lowering to a whisper.
Mulham:Silva."
Mulham:Great War—the magic that turned Silva into a wasteland."
Jawaher's face paled. She gripped the edge of the bar.
Jawaher: "And Jabir went there alone? Into a den of ancient magic? By the Golden Caravan..."
Mulham slid her a glass of lemon tonic, his eyes sympathetic.
Mulham: "You know Jabir. Once he decides the Thread is pulling him, no one stops him."
Sylvance stepped back. She didn't sit. She began tightening the straps of her light leather armor. She slung her bow across her back and checked her quiver.
Her eyes were steady. Her voice was clear, shedding the hesitation of the village girl.
Sylvance: "Jawaher, stay here. Wait for Jabir in case he returns. You are the anchor."
Jawaher blinked.
Jawaher: "Sylvance?"
Sylvance: "Mulham... protect her. Until I return."
Without another word, Sylvance vanished into the dusk—her stride swift, silent, and predatory. She wasn't walking like a tourist anymore. She was walking like a Hunter.
Jawaher stared after the swinging door, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jawaher: "Even you? Oh gods... am I the only sane one left?"
Near the City Walls — A Hidden Path
A man in a black cloak moved swiftly through the deep shadows of the outer wall, the sleeping Boy cradled in his arms like a ragdoll. The wind tugged at his hood, momentarily revealing a scarred jaw and eyes that gleamed with cold professional contempt.
He glanced down at his burden, sneering.
Agent:BatalosVaron failed to secure you in the ruins... I expected a fight. But you were just sleeping in a sewer, guarded by a fool."
He looked at the Boy's chest—where a strange Violet Seal pulsed softly over his heart. It forced a deep, unnatural coma. The glow was faint, but steady.
Agent: "Ancient magic. Not meant to bind the body. Meant to silence the soul."
The man adjusted his grip, ensuring the cloak covered the Boy's face as a patrol passed nearby.
Agent: "You're not just a boy anymore. You're a message. And tonight, the city will read it loud and clear."
He reached a concealed grate near the aqueduct—a hidden entrance to the Order's safehouse.
He vanished into the shelter's mouth, swallowed by the earth.
And above them, the stars of Aurik flickered—like eyes trying not to blink as the nightmare began.
The Weight of a Name
The Korta Chamber — Where Seals Break and Loyalties Fracture
Fuad sat in silence, chewing slowly on the stale crust. The taste was dulled by the storm raging in his chest. The walls pressed in. The air felt heavy, charged with ozone and dread.
The Bone Man muttered from behind the bars, watching him eat.
Bone Man: "Don't worry. I didn't poison it. You're not worth the trouble of cleaning up the body."
Fuad didn't respond. His thoughts were elsewhere—on the Boy, on the glowing violet seal, and on the message he never delivered.
Then, heavy footsteps echoed. Karras returned, accompanied by a hunched, elderly Mage whose robes were frayed with age and stained with ink.
The Mage stared at the glowing lock, his breath catching in a wheeze.
Mage:Silva's sky... These seals..."
Karras raised a scarred eyebrow.
Karras: "What about them? Can you break it?"
The Mage's voice trembled, his fingers hovering inches from the violet light.
Mage:Great Desert War... 240 years ago. This is Void Magic."
Karras scoffed, spitting on the floor.
Karras: "I don't care about dusty history. Just break the seal and take your cut."
The Mage turned to Fuad, his milky eyes searching the Assassin's face.
Mage: "Are you sure you want to leave, young man? Whoever placed this seal doesn't want you seen. Breaking it is an act of war."
Fuad's eyes burned with a cold, focused fire.
Fuad: "I don't care if it starts a war. Open it."
The Mage sighed. He raised a gnarled staff.
Mage:"Luxia... Breaker."
A beam of concentrated white light struck the violet runes. The seal trembled. The symbols pulsed like veins beneath skin, fighting back.
Then—
CRASH.
Armed mercenaries burst into the chamber from the corridor, shoving Karras aside.
The crowd in the tunnel tensed. Hands reached for hidden blades.
One of the intruders raised his voice, calm but authoritative.
Mercenary: "We're not here to fight. Just to speak."
They parted ways, revealing a figure in a colorful, dusty cloak.
Jabir.
He stepped from the shadows, his eyes locked on Fuad.
Jabir: "You. The Assassin who took the Boy. Where is he?"
Fuad froze, recognizing the booming voice.
Fuad: "Jabir?"
Jabir hissed, stepping closer to the bars.
Jabir: "Quiet, fool. Don't draw attention. I paid dearly for these two to guide me through the Korta maze. I won't get lost in this filth because you shouted my name."
One of the mercenaries glared at him. Jabir chuckled nervously, adjusting his turban.
Jabir: "No offense, gentlemen. You are excellent guides."
Inside the cell, the Mage began to bleed from his nose. The strain was immense.
Mage: "It's close... the seal is cracking..."
Jabir stared at the violet light, his expression hardening.
Jabir: "I don't know what they want from the Boy. But he must be protected. I am here to buy him back."
Fuad snapped, leaping to his feet.
Fuad: "He's not for sale, you greedy merchant! He's a person, not a crate of spice!"
Jabir replied, his voice steady and surprisingly gentle.
Jabir: "Then I'll take him gently. I promise to give him a life, not a cage. I have the resources to hide him. Do you?"
Fuad growled.
Fuad: "I can't trust a merchant. You'll sell him the moment the price is right."
Jabir stepped right up to the bars, nose to nose with Fuad.
Jabir: "And I can't trust an Assassin with a child who doesn't even know his own name. Look at you—trapped, desperate, relying on a bleeding old man to save you."
Fuad locked eyes with him.
Fuad: "I will find him. With or without you."
Suddenly—
The seal exploded.
A burst of violet and white light blinded them all. The Mage was thrown across the corridor, his robes torn, blood streaking his face.
He groaned, clutching his staff.
Mage: "Don't worry... I'm used to this pain..."
The door creaked open.
Fuad stepped out, the air around him charged with static. He brushed past Karras.
Jabir grabbed his arm.
Jabir: "Where are you going?"
Fuad's voice was steel.
Fuad: "Isn't it obvious? I'm going to save him."
Jabir held firm, his grip surprisingly strong.
Jabir: "Not now. The city's in chaos. Guards are everywhere, hunting anyone linked to these seals. If you run out there, you'll be caught."
The Mage, still bleeding, whispered from the floor.
Mage: "The one who placed the seal... he knows it's broken now. He will send another trap. Trust me—I fought in the Third War. These people do not leave loose ends."
He limped away, disappearing into the shadows before anyone could thank him.
Karras stepped forward, handing Fuad his coin pouch and his spare clothes.
Karras: "The deal is done. You're free."
He lowered his voice.
Karras:Warden... the one who was killed last night. He kept a logbook in his office at the end of the tunnel. If you want to know who took the Boy, go there. Consider it a bonus for the fifty gold."
Jabir sighed, releasing Fuad's arm.
Jabir: "I'll wait here with my men. I don't need more trouble with the tunnel lords."
Fuad smirked, checking his dagger.
Fuad: "Coward. Stay here and count your coins."
Jabir: "It's called strategy, Assassin. Go. Find the trail."
Fuad stepped into the deeper tunnels, toward the smell of death.
And the hunt began.
The Warden's Letter — Where Grief Meets Legacy
FuadKarras down the dark corridor to the Warden's private chamber.
The door was unhinged, hanging by a single screw. Inside, chaos reigned.
Blood stained every surface—splashed across the stone walls, pooled on the desk, soaking into the rug. The air hung heavy with the copper scent of death and the lingering static of dark magic.
Fuad whispered, his voice hollow as he stepped over a shattered chair.
Fuad: "I can't believe this... He fought them alone."
Karras pointed toward the central desk. It was splintered, covered in ash, but one object remained untouched amidst the carnage.
Karras: "That letter. It was under his hand. It's all that's left."
Fuad picked it up, his fingers trembling. The paper was crinkled and stained with a single drop of dried blood. He stared at the symbols—familiar, yet distant. The ink swirled before his eyes, mocking him.
Karras asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Karras: "Well? What does it say? Who killed him?"
Fuad stared at the page, panic rising. He couldn't admit it. Not to Karras.
Fuad: (Coldly) "None of your business."
Karras sighed, stepping back, offended.
Karras: "I thought you'd be different after I let you out. Typical Assassin arrogance."
Fuad snapped, shoving the letter into his vest.
Fuad: "I didn't ask for your charity. Or your opinion."
Karras: "Whatever. Get out of my sight before I change my mind about the refund."
The Price of Truth
Fuad returned to the main chamber of the Black Market Inn.
Jabir was waiting, arms crossed, tapping his foot impatiently.
Jabir: "So? Did it say where the Boy is? Who these people are? How to fight them?"
Fuad kept walking, his head down.
Fuad: "It's not your concern, Merchant."
Jabir stepped in front of him, frustration flickering in his eyes.
Jabir: "If there's anything useful in there, don't hold it back! We share the same goal, you stubborn fool!"
Then, the Bone Man (Innkeeper) leaned over the bar, his voice hushed.
Bone Man: "Psst. Hey, kid."
Fuad turned, exhausted.
Fuad: "What now? I have no money."
Bone Man: "Come here."
Fuad hesitated, then walked to a quiet corner of the bar, away from Jabir and Karras.
The Bone Man smiled, holding out a hand.
Bone Man: "One coin."
Fuad groaned, slapping his forehead.
Fuad: "You dragged me here for money? I just got out of a cell!"
Bone Man: "You got your pouch back from Karras. You have coin. Give me one."
Fuad: (Shouting) "Why?!"
The man replied calmly, his eyes soft.
Bone Man: "Because you need to learn humility. I see a lost soul holding a paper he can't read. Give me the coin. Let me read the letter for you."
Fuad's face flushed red. The shame burned hotter than any fire.
He reached into his pouch, pulled out a gold coin, and slammed it onto the counter. Then, slowly, he handed over the bloodstained letter.
The Bone Man unfolded it. The room seemed to quiet down as he read aloud, his voice steady and reverent.
"Dear Fuad,
I haven't seen you since you were a child, leaving Korta with your father and Jamih. You probably don't remember me.
I wanted to come down and meet you when you checked in, but you looked exhausted. So I told the Innkeeper to give you the best room, no charge. Consider it a gift.
I told the Assassins you were here—the son of a legend. Your father and I hunted the Giant Desert Worms together in the deep sands. He was stubborn, just like you.
I heard he died years ago. I couldn't attend the burial, but I sent a message to Jamih. I'm the Warden now.
I saw the Boy with you. He has a strange aura. And there are dangerous rumors—a group in Black Cloaks is coming for him tonight.
Don't worry. Stay in the room. We'll protect you. I told Jamih, and he promised to send help if things get ugly.
We were once called the 'Golden Trio.'Funny... I never saw a single piece of gold in all my life.
Your father's friend,Delyn."
The Bone Man folded the letter and slid the gold coin back to Fuad.
Bone Man: "Keep your money. I don't want Delyn's ghost haunting me for taking coin from his friend's son."
Fuad trembled. His knees gave way, and he slumped against the counter.
Fuad: "He... he protected me... He paid for the room to keep me safe... and I got him killed..."
KarrasJabir, and the others stood behind him, silent witnesses to the revelation.
Fuad whispered, burying his face in his hands.
Fuad: "I'm worthless... I thought it was a trap. I thought everyone was against me."
Karras stepped forward, his heavy hand resting on Fuad's shoulder.
Karras: "Don't say that. Delyn did what none of us could. He saw the danger coming, and he stood his ground. He bought you time."
Karras: "He knew they weren't human. I wanted to tell you earlier—the wounds on his body... they weren't made by steel. They were made by shadows."
Fuad wiped his tears furiously, clutching the letter to his chest like a shield.
Jabir spoke up, his voice softer than anyone had ever heard it.
Jabir: "Karras is right. Delyn was... a good man. I traded with him often. He did what he believed was right. You didn't kill him, Fuad. The monsters did."
Fuad looked up, his eyes red and raw.
Fuad: "Shut up, you greedy fool. You don't know anything."
Jabir groaned, crossing his arms, but a small, sad smile touched his lips.
Jabir: "This kid... charming to the bitter end."
But he didn't walk away. And Fuad didn't push him away.
They stood there in the dim light of the Korta tunnels—a Merchant, an Assassin, and a Thug—grieving, angry, and uncertain.
But for the first time... they were united.