The group of three stood in front of the guard station, unsure of what to do.

  “You sensed a dark aura from inside there?” Sil asked.

  Blū nodded. “Yep.”

  “I can feel it,” Yig said, sounding a bit more chipper than the situation called for.

  “No, you can’t,” Blū replied. “You’re suppressing your aura, like I told you. Or at least, you should be.”

  “I am,” Yig rebutted.

  “Then do it harder.”

  Yig clenched, drawing his aura closer and closer to his body. Good thing, too—they didn’t want their target sensing it. If the person inside ran a scan like the one Blū had just performed, they’d be in trouble.

  Sil decided to sense it for herself. She closed her eyes—then immediately stumbled back. It was true, what Blū had said. After that, she made sure not to extend her aura again. Or use it in any other way, instead keeping it calm and contained as Blū had suggested.

  Yig started marching toward the station without a care.

  Sil grabbed him by the collar. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Going in to ask about the dark aura.”

  “Why would you do that? It’d just let them know we’re suspicious.”

  “I figured we’d fight them if worst came to worst.”

  “Right,” Blū said, dumbfounded. “Well, they’re tied to the Monarchs. Even if we’re far from the Capital, fighting them would make us enemies of… basically the whole world. Even a skirmish with a small Royal Guard faction like this one would probably get bounties on our heads.”

  “If you say so,” Yig replied with a shrug. “Though some great heroes I’ve read about were outlaws.”

  “Well, maybe start with legal hero work.”

  Sil turned to Blū. “Do you think you can go in for us? They’re suspicious of me, and some of them have seen me with Yig.”

  “Sounds like I’m going in, then. Hide yourselves—I’ll be back in a minute.”

  ◇─◇──◇─◇

  Yig and Sil did as he suggested, doing their best to look casual in the crowd while Blū walked into the station. The room was cluttered to the brim with tables and furniture, books and papers stacked everywhere. The walls were in a terrible state—patches of moss coated them in streaks and clusters, especially thick in the corners and ceiling.

  A man with bushy black eyebrows, curly hair, and a broad build sat hunched over a table, writing with a quill. Beside him sat a lantern, casting the only glow in the room.

  Blū cleared his throat to get the man’s attention. The guard didn’t look up immediately. He finished the paragraph he was writing, then set the quill aside with an irritated sigh and looked up.

  “Something I can do for you?” the guard asked firmly.

  With the left side of his face lit by the lantern’s orange glow—its contrast to the dark shadows on his right—Blū recognized him. Liria, Guard Captain of Moonset.

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  “I’m looking for a friend who came to Moonset for the festival.”

  “Can you describe him for me?”

  Damn. Screwed myself over with that. Blū’s brain shot into action, scrambling for an answer.

  “I’ve actually never seen his face. We’ve only communicated by letter up to now.”

  “Then how do you expect me to find him?”

  “We had a meeting spot. He was supposed to approach me—since I’m the one with white hair and all. But since nobody did, I thought he might’ve gotten arrested.” Blū scratched the back of his head, trying to play it off. “Wouldn’t be the first time, from what I’ve heard.”

  Liria sighed and returned to his writing. “Fine. Check the cells if you think you need to.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The jail was pitch black, lit only by the faint glow of the captain’s lamp reaching through the open door. A few festive lights flickered through the small window-holes in the walls—less than a foot wide. Even if the holes were larger, the tiny celebration lights wouldn’t have helped much.

  Blū pulled the door slightly closed to block Liria’s view—careful not to shut it, in case it locked. Now the room was in total darkness. He drew on some mana to enhance his vision, allowing him to see vague silhouettes. But sight wasn’t what he’d come in for. He wanted to sense that sliver of darkness he’d felt earlier—and this room didn’t have it.

  Still, something was off. In one cell, a silhouette—a large, round figure—breathed in an unsettling rhythm. Most notably, their aura carried a faint trace of darkness. Surath… probably. But that wasn’t surprising. Most who followed Surath’s will became little more than delinquents. Powerful ones—but still just delinquents. Nothing Blū hadn’t dealt with before. More importantly, it wasn’t the same aura he’d sensed from outside.

  So if the sinister aura wasn’t in the cells, where was it coming from?

  Now he was sure—it had to be the guard who was meddling in such things. Not just dabbling either. Someone skilled.

  Blū walked back into the main room. Liria was still hunched over his writing. The place was a mess—disorganized and chaotic, especially for a guard station. Next time someone called him a slob, he’d drag Silver down here to show her what a real disaster looked like.

  “You find him?” Liria asked, looking up.

  Startled, Blū staggered awkwardly. “No, unfortunately.” He caught his breath, eyes flicking to a door behind the captain.

  “Right. Well, if you could leave me to my work, that’d be—”

  “Yeah…” Blū said, clearly distracted. “I’ll be going.”

  Bang! A sharp clash of metal rang through the building—a teeth-grinding screech that shattered Blū’s focus. Liria looked up, just in time to see a man bolt out from the jail door and sprint toward the exit.

  “Run after him, you dumb bastard!” the captain shouted, shoving his desk aside and rushing into the street.

  For a split second, Blū looked back at the door he’d been eyeing. It was the perfect chance to sneak in, maybe find the source of that sinister aura. But just as quickly, he realized what mattered more.

  He burst through the front door, skidding into the street. Just in time to catch Liria turning the corner, spear in hand. Blū glanced around—no sign of Yig, Sil, or even the little sheep. He rolled his eyes and took a breath, then crouched low, channeling mana through his legs. It was risky doing this in public—he just hoped everyone was too drunk to notice.

  With a consecrated burst—almost like a pop—Blū launched thirty feet into the air, carefully balancing himself mid-flight.

  From up high, Moonset looked like a miniature map. It felt familiar so often, it was easy to forget how many people lived here. Yet even this sizable town seemed tiny compared to the shadowed hills that loomed over it each bright day.

  At the apex of his jump, Blū scanned the city, tracking every likely path. During the descent, he finally spotted them. He adjusted his position and braced for impact, channeling mana to his feet and spine. Like a needle slicing air, he plunged down, ears popping as he fell. He landed smoothly, force dispersing through his body as he crouched.

  As soon as he hit the ground, auras surged into his senses—Yig and Sil among them, running behind him. Using the hint and his enhanced vision, he quickly located the escapee.

  Like a frog, Blū launched forward—unnaturally fast. He grazed the heads of passersby, most too drunk to notice.

  Unaware he was being followed, the escapee was easily tackled. They skidded to the ground, the man’s face buried in his arms. Blū rose, panting, and pinned him down with his foot.

  “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” the man screeched. “Please don’t take me back there! Kill me if you must—just don’t take me back!”

  As the others reached him, Blū turned for help—but Yig and Sil looked just as disturbed. The man kept screaming, voice rising higher and higher. No doubt the guards would find them soon.