Highwall's market buzzed with motion — cries of hawkers, clatter of hooves, the smell of roasted meat and arcane incense swirling through the streets.
Adrien tugged his worn cloak tighter and leaned toward a stall stacked with smoked herbs.
"Think any of these can bring back a dead guy?" he whispered to Fenrik, who was more focused on not looking suspicious.
"Maybe if you stuff the herbs in his mouth and pray really hard."
Adrien gave a snort. "Tempting."
As he casually moved through the crowd, Nyxaris padded behind with its body cloaked in illusory flicker — just enough to look like a mundane pet. The cub's crimson eyes scanned everything.
"Too many cloaks in one place." Adrien thought.
Something felt off.
Across the street…
A man leaned against a spice vendor's wall — well-dressed, seemingly uninterested. But his eyes were sharp, tracing every unusual motion.
Judicator Agent Velan.
He had been stationed in Highwall two days ago. Quiet orders. No flare, no banners.
Find the one touched by shadow.
He noticed Adrien's stride. Relaxed. But too even. Too careful. And the wolf? Something about that wolf…
Velan moved.
"Let's go," Adrien muttered suddenly, shoving a coin toward the vendor. "Now."
"What?" Fenrik asked.
"We're being watched. Cloak at two o'clock. Beard. Too clean for the streets. Walk."
They pushed back into the tide of bodies, taking a hard left into a tighter alley lined with rug stalls. Adrien kept one hand near the shadow ring hidden beneath his sleeve. Fenrik's axe handle clicked against his belt.
Behind them, Velan followed — not running, just moving.
Adrien glanced at a reflection in a copper plate.
"Damn. I was hoping he'd be fatter."
Velan picked up pace. Adrien turned left — dead end.
"Wonderful," Adrien muttered. "First alley trap of the day."
Velan appeared at the entrance, eyes gleaming faintly gold beneath his hood.
"You wear shadows like a second skin," he said. "Who taught you?"
Adrien smiled, stepping forward. "Do you always flirt like this with strangers in alleys?"
Velan narrowed his eyes. "The Order knows what you are. Come quietly."
Fenrik moved to block Adrien. "Try and take him, and you'll lose more than your nose."
Velan raised a hand — light shimmered into a blade.
Adrien didn't hesitate. He drew the flickering black dagger from his belt — shadow coiled around his wrist.
For three tense seconds, no one moved.
Then a wagon rumbled by at the alley's opening. Adrien used it.
Flash. Smoke. Darkness.
By the time Velan blinked, they were gone.
Panting, Adrien yanked off his cloak, handed it to a child, and pulled a new scarf over his head from a vendor stall without stopping.
"That's the third 'we nearly died' today," Fenrik muttered.
"I'm on a streak," Adrien said, smirking. "Still not the worst alley experience I've had."
Nyxaris snorted.
Rain tapped against the slanted steel roof of the Judicator relay outpost, its spires rising like blades above the outer rim of Highwall.
Inside, the chamber was sparse. Stone floor, a single obsidian table with no chairs, and a circle of arcane runes glowing faintly beneath a hooded figure.
Agent Velan stepped into the circle, breathing hard from the earlier chase. The runes pulsed once, then stabilized. A shimmer of gold light appeared before him — a distant projection of a Judicator Council member. Only his mask was visible — pale white, emotionless, ringed with a faint sun-shaped crest.
"Report."
Velan dropped to one knee.
> "The Shadow-bearer has been sighted in Highwall. Confirmed companion: a northern mercenary. The wolf — not natural. Possibly an early manifestation of a celestial familiar."
"You engaged?"
"Briefly. He evaded. He's skilled. Calm… too calm. Like he's danced with death before."
The voice behind the mask was clipped. "And the Shadow?"
Velan hesitated. "It bent with him. Responded. Like a second breath. I believe—"
He stopped. Then said it:
"I believe this may be the successor of Ardonis."
The silence that followed was thick.
Then: "You will not engage again. Withdraw. Reinforcements will arrive in three days."
Velan frowned. "With respect, if we wait—"
"—You are dismissed, Agent."
The projection blinked out.
Seven masked figures sat in a circle within a blackstone hall. No fire, no wind — just the sound of distant thunder.
One of them finally spoke.
"So… the last echo of the Godslayers walks again."
Another leaned forward. "If he awakens fully—"
"We must not let him."
A third voice, colder: "Kill him now, and we may inherit the wrath of something worse."
"But if Ardonis truly marked him—"
Silence.
Then the First Judicator raised a hand. "We watch. We do not move until we understand what stirs in the dark. Prepare the Seer. We'll view the boy's past before we decide his future."
The chamber darkened further. A heartbeat of unease passed between them.