The blood trail led them toward Copper Inn. To the west, storm clouds gathered against the Veilspine Range: dark masses rolling over the peaks, dimming the last of the afternoon light. The wind had shifted. The air carried the promise of rain.

  Sebastian walked calm steps. His eyes swept across the land as twilight deepened. The cobblestones beneath his boots were worn smooth by generations: scholars hurrying to the ruins, laborers returning from fields, lives lived and forgotten between sunrise and sleep.

  The Arlen River cut through the city's heart, dividing it cleanly. Stone houses rose in orderly rows on the eastern bank: sturdy construction, glass windows catching the afterlight. Across the water, the southern districts sprawled in crooked paths and patched rooftops, smoke curling from chimneys stained black with use.

  Astraea studied both halves of the city, her expression clinical, weighing the worth of insects.

  "How fascinating." She paused at the bridge's edge. "Even among blood-stock, there are tiers. The river does not merely divide land—it separates the worthy from the disposable." Her lips curved slightly. "They mirror us without even understanding it. The lesser feeding the greater, believing themselves part of the same herd."

  Sebastian's gaze swept across the valley before him. On the eastern bank, terraced farmland stretched in careful symmetry: wheat and barley in orderly rows, young fruit trees aligned with precision. Stone bridges arched over the Arlen, connecting to the southern districts where crooked plots and patched cottages sprawled wherever soil allowed.

  Less than two centuries… and already they carved order and ambition into a valley that once held ruins.

  His mind drifted elsewhere—to Carmyne's ancient kingdom halls, to the silver causeways carved through the sea, to monuments built millennia ago and left untouched ever since. Beautiful. Eternal. Stagnant.

  So quick, these mortals… racing ever forward while my own kind drift further into stillness.

  He said nothing.

  His look lifted toward the distant hill where Baron Arvane's manor stood. The blackened eastern wing stood charred against the horizon. Beside it, the clock tower rose.

  Sebastian found himself genuinely curious.

  "After we locate the source of the blood," he said quietly, "I intend to visit the Baron's manor."

  Astraea glanced at him, surprised. "The warm-blooded puppet in the manor?"

  "His captain, actually. This Dalen the human guard mentioned." Sebastian's tone remained thoughtful. "He has been investigating the fires. I would hear what he has learned." And confirm whether Nightflares from the enemy move in this valley.

  “And the… warm blood fugitives? What are we going to do with them?” Astraea asked, a faint smile touching her lips.

  Sebastian replied, “I sense our paths are intertwined somehow, if following this blood trail is any indication…”

  “They cannot leave the valley. The perimeter ensures that.” Sebastian gestured vaguely toward the surrounding mountains. “They will still be here when we choose to address them. Information, however…”

  He paused, his expression briefly distant.

  “Information grows stale. And the captain may possess unique knowledge we could use to our advantage.”

  Astraea studied him for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly but said nothing.

  Ahead, three soldiers stood near the bridge crossing, stopping anyone who tried to cross and examining their faces before allowing passage. Their weathered leather tunics bore the Baron's faded insignia.

  Sebastian noted them but said nothing, continuing forward.

  The three Veilbound followed in perfect silence, their staffs pulsing faintly; small magics active to encourage mortal eyes to look away, to dismiss, to forget.

  Sebastian’s gaze returned to the path ahead. “This blood. You said it carries something from within?”

  Her eyes brightened. “Power dwelling where it should not. Primeval essence within mortal flesh.” She crouched. “It calls to me, Sebastian—like something with purpose, reaching for me. To make me a—”

  “Control,” he interrupted gently. “Do not succumb to it.”

  She looked irritated and said, “I know.”

  They continued deeper into the northern quarter. Around them, life carried on oblivious. A rider guided his horse past a cluster of apprentices arguing outside as they walked. A woman swept dust from her doorstep. From an open workshop came the rhythmic ring of a hammer on metal.

  None looked twice at the five figures passing through their streets.

  Sebastian's attention shifted toward a narrow street ahead where two figures moved between doorways, one in a dark coat with sharp features and storm-brown eyes, the other trailing behind with a scroll. Scholars from the way they carried themselves. The leader gestured at passersby, clearly seeking someone specific.

  "The Baron's men and the Athenaeum both," Sebastian said softly. "Independently deployed. Asking questions."

  "Vermin pursue the same trail." Astraea straightened. "But only we can reach its end."

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "Which validates our intelligence." Sebastian's gaze followed the crimson trail at their feet. "Whatever was unearthed at those ruins has set both mortal powers into motion."

  The Copper Hearth Inn rose ahead, smoke curling from its venting bell.

  Sebastian's thoughts turned inward as they walked.

  The fugitives had come from the manor. Yet the fires began at the ruins. The pieces aligned themselves in fragments—ruins, manor, blood that carried power.

  He needed the pieces to align before he acted.

  "Two fires," he murmured. "Separated by bells. Connected by blood."

  The path of blood curved toward a narrow alley beside the inn. They followed it, Astraea leading, Sebastian close behind, the three Veilbound silent as shadows.

  They approached the alley's mouth, the blood trail leading them forward.

  Movement flickered ahead. Two small figures darted out of the shadowed passage.

  Children, faces flushed with laughter.

  Ryn, the older one with wild blonde hair, sprinted at full speed, his sister in pursuit. His head turned back toward Faye, shouting something about counting wrong.

  He didn't see Astraea. He ran straight into her, bouncing off her long legs and stumbling backward onto the ground.

  She hadn't moved. Not an inch.

  Ryn sat on the cobblestones, stunned. His laughter died. He looked up—and up—into those pale features, into glowing red eyes that now fixed on him with predatory focus.

  Faye skidded to a halt behind him, her smile fading.

  Astraea's expression shifted, smoothing into something gentle, almost kind. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she crouched, bringing herself to the boy's eye level.

  "Hello, little one," she said softly, warmth that didn't quite reach her features. "What a lovely game you were playing."

  Ryn scrambled to his feet, brushing dirt from his hands. He hesitated, glancing back at Faye.

  "Come closer," Astraea coaxed, extending one gloved hand. "Do not be shy."

  He turned again and looked up into those crimson eyes, and found himself stepping forward.

  Her smile widened. "There. Much better." And before the boy could react, her movement was so swift, so precise, just a whisper of fabric; the faintest brush of her gloved finger across his forearm.

  A thin line of crimson appeared. Barely a scratch. Just enough to bead.

  "There." Her voice dropped to something almost reverent. "So we can play later. A very good game. And now..." She leaned closer, inhaling slowly. "...I will find my way to you."

  A soft, breathy giggle escaped her lips.

  Faye tugged hard on her brother's shirt. "Come on, Ryn! Mama's waiting!"

  The boy stumbled back, clutching his arm, eyes wide with confusion rather than pain. His sister pulled him toward the opposite direction, both of them glancing back with frightened eyes as they ran.

  Astraea stood slowly. She watched the children vanish, head tilted like a cat marking where the mice had fled.

  "Such lively little heartbeats." She brought her gloved finger to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss against the leather where the boy's blood had touched. "Racing now. They'll dream of me tonight."

  Her eyes fluttered half-closed.

  "Exquisite," she breathed.

  Sebastian watched the children flee, his expression neutral. "Your hunger grows careless."

  "I am never careless." She turned to face him, still savoring the moment. "Merely... anticipatory."

  The crimson trail led deeper into the alley, darker now, thicker. Whatever bled this much should be dead. Yet it led to the back entrance of the Inn, defying logic.

  The alley narrowed as they approached the Copper Hearth's back entrance. The air grew heavy, charged with the vibrating pressure that precedes a crack of thunder.

  Sebastian slowed, his gaze sweeping the shadowed passage. Stone walls pressed close, damp cobblestones catching what little light remained. The scent of bread and herbs drifted from the inn. The blood trail led here. Stronger now. Recent.

  Behind him, the Veilbound halted in perfect unison.

  Astraea moved to his left, tracking the droplets scattered across stone.

  "Fresh." She traced the blood pattern with her gaze.

  Sebastian nodded once, his attention shifting ahead.

  Sound erupted. Shouts from within the inn. Furniture crashing. Heavy boots on wood. The unmistakable chaos of violence.

  A splintering crack—then the back door burst open.

  Three figures spilled into the alley, moving fast, desperate. The scholar in the dark green coat led, pulling the younger woman with amber eyes behind him, glancing back toward the chaos inside. The cloaked woman followed, her hood falling back as she ran: silver hair, eyes squeezed shut.

  Sebastian’s eyes widened slightly—then thunder rolled.

  The face matched perfectly: weathered features, black hair touched with gray, the bearing of a senior scholar. The dark green coat was unmistakable.

  The scholar's gaze swept the alley and locked with Sebastian's.

  For one impossible moment, their eyes met. Gray-brown staring into crimson. The Veilbound's magic should have turned that gaze away, made them invisible, forgettable.

  But she saw him.

  Then the moment broke. The three figures ran in the opposite direction, vanishing around the corner.

  Astraea's hand moved to pull the scythe free—

  Sebastian’s fingers closed around her wrist—a firm, unyielding grip.

  "Stop."

  She turned to him, eyes blazing. For a moment, genuine violence flickered between them—predator to predator.

  "They're right there," she hissed.

  "And they will remain in the valley." His grip didn't loosen. "Control, Astraea."

  A soft giggle escaped her. "You would enforce it?"

  "Successfully."

  They held each other's gaze. The three Veilbound shifted slightly, staffs pulsing brighter.

  Then, slowly, her fingers relaxed on the scythe's haft. Sebastian released her wrist.

  "The captain first," he said quietly. "Then they will come to us."

  She rolled her shoulder. "As you... prefer."

  Sebastian turned to the nearest Veilbound, his voice sharp with interest. "That scholar. Did you mark what happened?"

  The hooded figure hesitated. "He... looked at you, my lord. Through the ward."

  "Impossible," another Veilbound said. "No mortal can—"

  "Yet he did." Sebastian's gaze remained fixed on the corner where the three had vanished. His mind worked through the implications. What are you?

  "The woman?"

  “Silver hair. Eyes closed. She smelled of the same blood.”

  "And the younger one?"

  "Terrified. Protective. Ordinary."

  Sebastian stood motionless for a long moment, processing. An old scholar who saw through their magic. A woman with tainted blood. A frightened girl trying to protect them both.

  “What happened at those ruins?” he whispered.

  "Does it matter?" Astraea asked, her voice still edged with hunger. "They carry what we seek."

  "It matters more than you know." Sebastian's expression shifted, curious now, genuinely intrigued. "Something profound occurred at that excavation. Something that changed them."

  He began walking in steady rhythm.

  "Besides," he added, "I have an idea I wish to share with the humans in the manor."

  Astraea's fingers flexed once more toward her weapon, then fell still. "The blood calls to me, Sebastian. It wants me to follow it."

  "All the more reason not to. Not yet." He glanced back at her. "When prey wants to be caught, one must ask why."

  The Veilbound fell into formation behind them, silent as shadows. They moved through the streets, heading upward toward the hill where the Baron's manor waited—half-consumed by fire, half-standing in stubborn defiance.

  Behind them, the sounds of violence continued from the Copper Hearth Inn: furniture breaking, blades clashing, voices raised in combat. Whatever battle raged inside no longer concerned him.

  But that moment, those eyes meeting his through magic that should have made him invisible—

  A faint smile touched Sebastian's lips.

  Let me see what you can do.

  Three fugitives had escaped toward Lowtown's crooked streets.

  And five figures in black walked toward the Baron's manor.