For the past few nights, the city had been restless. Small killings, failed attempts, and whispers of unseen threats kept tensions high. But it was when the first major target fell that true panic set in.
The body was found at dawn, slumped against a stone wall in one of the quieter districts of Eyrendyl. The victim was Laeron Vaelthir, a young elven noble and third-year student at the academy. His house had deep political ties, but more importantly, he was someone who carried weight in both the academy and noble circles.
His death wasn't a brutal scene—no excessive blood, no signs of a struggle. Just a single, precise stab to the heart, done so cleanly that his robe barely looked disturbed. A professional's work.
The moment word spread, fear followed. If someone like Laeron—protected, careful, and well-connected—could be eliminated without a trace, then no one was safe.
By midday, paranoia was already creeping into every conversation.
The academy went into lockdown for its remaining students, and those who had left to stay with noble families immediately increased their security. Even the guards of Eyrendyl moved more cautiously, their usual arrogance dulled by the silent realization—this was an enemy they could not see.
Kalem adjusted his cloak as he made his way through the back alleys of Eyrendyl, a sack slung over his shoulder. The city felt different now—the usual buzz of merchants and travelers was undercut by an unspoken tension. He could feel it in the way people moved, in the way shopkeepers kept one hand near their concealed weapons.
When he reached the unmarked door and knocked, the response came quickly.
"Password."
"Profit."
The door unlatched almost immediately, and Kalem stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, as always, but something was different. Tavrin, the grey trader, wasn't alone. Two silent figures stood in the corners, partially concealed by the shadows. Guards.
Kalem's eyes flickered to them before turning back to Tavrin, who was pouring himself a cup of tea with a slower, more deliberate motion than usual.
"Business is tense these days," Tavrin muttered, finally looking up. "I assume you're not here for tea."
"No. I want information."
Tavrin exhaled through his nose. "You always do."
Kalem dropped the sack onto the table. When he unfastened it, several small metal plates clattered onto the wood—more of his cold-forged adamant steel prototypes. Tavrin raised an eyebrow.
"More armor pieces?"
"A trade," Kalem said, his voice calm. "Information for protection."
Tavrin picked up one of the plates, inspecting it under the candlelight. "Not a bad offer. But even if I wanted to talk… things are different now."
Kalem studied him. "How different?"
The grey trader set the plate down and leaned forward. "Laeron's death? That was a message. It wasn't just another assassination—it was a declaration."
Kalem remained silent, waiting.
"Whatever is coming next… it won't be subtle."
For the first time, even Tavrin looked wary.
Elsewhere in the city, Garrick and Jhaeros moved with purpose. They had taken it upon themselves to patrol the streets, keeping an eye out for unusual activity.
"Feels like a ghost town," Garrick muttered, hand resting on his sword hilt. The streets weren't empty, but the usual energy was missing. People moved quickly, their heads down. Too many glances over shoulders.
Jhaeros walked ahead, his heightened senses catching more than he liked. The city wasn't empty—it was being watched.
He didn't know from where, but he could feel it. Eyes tracking them from windows, from alleys, from the rooftops.
And then, just as they were about to turn a corner, Jhaeros' ears twitched. A sound—too soft for human ears. A breath. A shift in the wind.
His blade was in his hand before the attack came.
A knife shot out from the darkness, aimed for his throat. He deflected it in an instant, the clang of steel against steel ringing through the alley.
Garrick reacted just as fast, twisting to block another shadowed figure lunging from the side.
"Finally," Garrick grinned, stepping forward. "I was getting bored."
Jhaeros didn't reply. The attack was a test.
And that meant whoever was watching them wasn't done yet.
Let me know if you'd like adjustments before moving to the next chapter!