The moon hung low over Eyrendyl, its silver light casting twisted shadows through the city's narrow alleys. In the hidden corners, where lanterns flickered uncertainly, figures moved in silence.
Boots padded against damp stone.
Blades whispered as they left their sheaths.
Eyes, sharp and predatory, glowed beneath hooded cloaks.
The Blood Nights had begun.
The attack on the academy had been bold—an act of war in broad daylight. But this?
This was something else entirely.
While students adjusted to their new lives outside the academy walls, a new game unfolded in the dark. One of assassins and informants, of whispered contracts and unseen killers.
The first sign was subtle. Vanishing names.
A merchant, known for selling alchemical reagents, disappeared overnight. His stall stood abandoned, his wares untouched.
A courier, delivering messages between noble families, found dead in a gutter, throat slit so cleanly that the blood had barely pooled before he was gone.
A city guard, rumored to have taken bribes, was found hanging from the city's walls, his tongue cut out—a warning.
Whispers spread like fire.
"The Blood Nights have started."
"No one is safe."
"They've been hired. The real assassins."
This wasn't the mindless slaughter of the academy attack.
This was precision. A purge.
Inside an unmarked cellar, deep beneath the streets, a group of masked individuals gathered.
A single candle burned in the center of the wooden table, its flickering light reflecting off polished steel.
"Five more confirmed dead," one voice murmured, shifting a dagger between their fingers. "The academy's influence in the city is shrinking."
Another figure, taller, leaned forward. "And the students?"
"The weak ones are being picked off first. Those with protection stay untouched—for now."
A silence hung over the room before the leader spoke, his voice calm, but final.
"Continue."
The candle flickered—then the room emptied.
Midnight.
Kalem sat in a quiet tavern corner, watching the streets through the reflection in his mug.
The city felt different tonight.
It wasn't just the guards patrolling with their hands on their hilts, or the way merchants locked their doors early.
No, it was the air.
A tension, like a string pulled too tight, ready to snap.
And then—
A scream.
Kalem moved before he thought, stepping into the cold night air just as a shadow darted across the rooftops. A body collapsed onto the street below, blood pooling beneath it.
A noble heir, Kalem noted absently, by the embroidery on his cloak. Still breathing, but barely.
Across the street, another shadow lunged.
A flicker of steel.
Another body fell.
They were here.
The city erupted in chaos.
Screams echoed through the streets as masked figures emerged from the alleys, their blades seeking targets.
Noble guards clashed with them, steel ringing against steel. The academy's hired mercenaries tried to form defensive lines—but the assassins didn't fight fair.
They struck from above, from below, from shadows.
It wasn't a battle.
It was a slaughter.
Kalem gritted his teeth, his mind calculating.
This wasn't random. This wasn't undirected violence.
The targets—noble heirs, powerful merchants, specific students.
Someone had planned this.
And they were just getting started.
Kalem clenched his fists.
The Blood Nights had truly begun.