The war room buzzed with the brittle energy of a lightning storm. Seth Guilladot stood at the head of the scarred oak table, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, revealing forearms inked with tactical runes and old burns. The team crowded around: Harvy's infernal contracts smoldered in a loose pile, Lucy's acid vials clinked like morbid wind chimes, and Evelyn's rainbow quill dripped venom-green ink onto a map of Kraken's Bay. The silver cat perched atop a bookshelf, its mismatched eyes reflecting the tension like twin moons.
"Leviathan docks at moonrise," Seth began, slamming a dagger into the map, its tip piercing the bay's coordinates. "We hit them here, here, and here." He jabbed at three points: the harbor's southern jetty, Kaufmann's riverside warehouse, and the temple's sanctified cargo hold. "Harvy—cripple their permits. Lucy—sink the barges. Evelyn—blow the trade routes sky-high."
Harvy grinned, flipping open a ledger of infernal clauses. "I'll bury them in breach-of-contract notices. Even leviathans fear paperwork."
Lucy twirled a vial of glowing acid. "I'll make sure the barges burn pretty. Green flames, maybe. Festive."
Evelyn's quill slashed across the map, rerouting imaginary caravans. "The High Priest's seal won't protect them once I expose their tithe discrepancies. Let Cybele's cultists eat their own hypocrisy."
Noah leaned forward, his truth-seeker monocle fogging. "What about the dockworkers? They're just hired blades. They don't deserve to drown in Kaufmann's mess."
Seth's gaze darkened. "Warn them. Let the rats flee before the ship sinks."
Gretchen hummed from the corner, pruning a bouquet of carnivorous orchids. "I'll ensure the taverns nearby are… distracted. A little poisoned honey in the ale casks. Nothing fatal. Just persuasive."
Enzo scribbled equations on his cuff, muttering, "Probability of success: 68.3%. Variables include temple retaliation, mana-storm interference, and Lucy's propensity for overkill."
"Variables can choke on variables," Lucy snapped, pocketing two more vials.
Seth silenced them with a raised hand. "We move at dusk. Harvy and Evelyn take the warehouse. Lucy and Noah handle the harbor. Gretchen, Enzo—keep the temple guards busy. Ally—"
"Already on it," Ally chirped, tossing a basket of caramel muffins onto the table. "Snacks for the road. Also, I rigged the office lamps to explode if Kaufmann's lackeys snoop."
The cat leapt onto the table, batting a muffin onto the floor. Seth glared at it. "And you?"
The creature yawned, its milky eye glinting.
"Right. Do whatever you want. Just don't get caught."
As the team dispersed, Astris lingered in the doorway, the marriage contract revisions crumpled in her fist. Seth caught her eye.
"After tonight," he said, softer now, "you'll have your deadline."
She nodded, the shard in her boot humming in time with the Spire's distant pulse.
The cat trotted after her, tail held high. Somewhere in the city, a clock tower chimed.
The leviathan's hour had come.
*****
The palace halls echoed with the crisp click of boots on marble, the air thick with the scent of polished cedar and the faint metallic tang of mana-lanterns. First Prince Zaiden Leclair strode ahead, flanked by his ever-stoic attendant, Cedric Winifred, and his younger brother, Second Prince Jace Leclair, whose quiet steps and furrowed brow betrayed his unease.
"The High Priest's demands are untenable," Jace murmured, clutching a scroll of temple grievances. "If we grant him control of the dungeon tithes, he'll funnel everything to Kaufmann. We need to—"
Zaiden's steps faltered mid-stride. A flicker of Echohold sparked behind his eyes—Seth Guilladot's war room, maps strewn with venomous ink, the team's voices sharp with resolve. The silver cat perched atop a bookshelf, its milky eye fixed on him through the veil of magic.
Moonrise. Kraken's Bay. Burn the barges.
Zaiden's lips curled into a grin.
"—Zaiden?" Jace's voice cut through the vision. "Are you even listening?"
"Yes," Zaiden said absently, still smirking.
"No, you're not. I said we need to deny the tithe proposal, not fast-track it."
Zaiden blinked, glancing at his brother as if noticing him for the first time. Jace's earnest gaze, his hands clenched white around the scroll—adorable, really, how he still believed petitions and principles could outmaneuver vipers like Kaufmann.
"Right. Deny it. Brilliant." Zaiden waved a dismissive hand, his attention drifting to the arched windows. Dusk painted the sky in bruised purples and golds. Two hours until moonrise.
Jace sighed. "This isn't a joke. If the temples retaliate—"
"They'll retaliate either way." Zaiden halted abruptly, squinting at the horizon. "But tonight, they'll be too busy drowning."
Cedric and Jace exchanged a glance—the former wary, the latter baffled.
"Drowning?" Jace echoed.
Zaiden spun on his heel, cloak flaring. "Important errand. Cedric, cancel my evening audiences. Jace, draft something scathing about peacocks. Use big words."
"Wait—Zaiden!" Jace lunged to block his path, but the prince sidestepped with a dancer's grace.
"No time, little brother! The future of the realm awaits!"
Cedric's voice hardened. "Sire. At least take Zander with you."
Zaiden paused, halfway to a side corridor. "Zander's busy babysitting your nerves, Cedric."
"He's busy ensuring you don't end up in a ditch," Cedric muttered, then raised his voice. "Zander."
The guard materialized from a shadowed alcove, his leathers smelling of steel and cold iron. He nodded once to Cedric, already moving to trail Zaiden.
"Try to keep up," Zaiden called over his shoulder, vanishing down the stairs.
Jace turned to Cedric, his scroll crumpled in frustration. "What in Cybele's name was that?"
Cedric smoothed his already-immaculate sleeves. "A royal whim, Your Highness. Best to let the ditch-dodging commence."
Zaiden descended into the Lower Ward's labyrinth, Zander a silent shadow at his back. Above, the first stars winked into view, their light smothered by the haze of mana-forges and smoke. The Siren's Grin loomed ahead, its crooked sign creaking in the wind.
Let the games begin, he thought, the cat's vision still burning bright in his mind.
Somewhere in the night, a leviathan stirred—and a prince's grin sharpened like a blade.
*****
Kraken's Bay shimmered under the cold glare of the moon, its black waters choked with the silhouette of Kaufmann's leviathan. The beast loomed like a living island, barnacle-crusted scales glinting as dockworkers scrambled to unload crates of aetherium shards under the watch of temple guards. Seth's team moved like ghosts through the chaos—Harvy and Evelyn slipping into the harbormaster's office to forge permits into funeral notices, Lucy and Noah skulking along the piers with vials of acid tucked in their sleeves, Gretchen humming as she dispersed tainted honey cakes to the taverns.
It began smoothly. Too smoothly.
The night air over Kraken's Bay was thick with salt and the acrid tang of impending chaos. Moonlight sliced through the fog, casting silver streaks over the black water where Kaufmann's leviathan floated, its barnacled hull groaning as dockworkers scurried like rats beneath its shadow. Lucy Shade crouched behind a rusted anchor winch, her fingers tightening around the vial of acid in her palm. The glass was warm, the liquid inside swirling like captured starlight.
Too quiet, she thought, her instincts prickling. The crew's movements were rehearsed, their faces blank—no curses, no laughter. Just the rhythmic thud of crates hitting the docks.
She hurled the vial.
It spun through the air, a comet of jade-green flame, before shattering against the deck of the nearest barge. Fire erupted in a serpentine burst, clawing up the mast and devouring the sails. The heat was immediate, blistering, warping the air into rippling waves. But instead of screams, there was silence.
Then—laughter.
The crew turned as one, their eyes glinting like shards of obsidian. From the leviathan's belly, temple guards streamed forth, their armor etched with Cybele's lions, the beasts' manes coiled in gold filigree that glowed faintly in the dark. Crossbows snapped up, loaded with mana-tipped bolts that crackled with violet energy, their tips humming like angry hornets.
"Ambush!" Lucy snarled, lunging behind a stack of crates as a bolt sizzled past her ear. It struck the wood, detonating in a burst of sparks that seared her cheek. The smell of burnt ozone and charred timber filled her nostrils.
She cursed, her heart hammering. Kaufmann knew. He fucking knew.
The guards fanned out, disciplined and merciless. One barked orders in a guttural tongue, his voice echoing off the water. The leviathan's massive tail slammed into the dock, sending splintered planks flying. Waves surged, dousing the green flames but not the panic rising in Lucy's throat.
Across the bay, Harvy's voice cut through the din, his infernal contracts blazing like torches as he hurled them into the fray. "Breach Clause 7!" he roared, and the parchment erupted into hellfire, swallowing two guards whole.
Lucy scrambled to reload, her fingers trembling. The cat—where was the damned cat?—darted past, a streak of silver in the chaos, its claws raking the face of a guard who lunged for her. Blood sprayed, hot and metallic, as the man staggered back.
A hand grabbed her shoulder. Noah, his truth-seeker monocle cracked, dragged her behind an overturned cart. "They've rigged the cargo!" he shouted over the roar of flames. "The shards—they're unstable!"
Lucy peered around the cart's edge. The leviathan's jaw yawned open, revealing a cavernous hold glittering with aetherium—raw, pulsing, alive. The shards throbbed in time with the guards' chants, their light bleeding into the night like a wound.
"We need to sink it now!" she hissed, but the words died as a shadow fell over them.
A temple guard loomed, his crossbow leveled at Noah's chest. Lucy moved on instinct. Her dagger flashed, carving a crimson arc across his throat. He crumpled, his blood pooling black in the moonlight.
"Go!" she shoved Noah toward the docks. "Warn the others!"
The bay had become a tempest of fire and steel. Somewhere in the madness, Astris's rapier gleamed like a needle threading through the dark, her brother's dagger a lethal afterthought in her off-hand. But Lucy didn't have time to marvel.
She lunged back into the fray, acid viles blazing, her laughter wild and unhinged.
Let Kaufmann's empire burn.
Harvy's infernal contracts burst into flames in his hands, the words breach and void searing into the air like curses. "They knew we were coming!"
Astris erupted from the shadows like a blade unsheathed, her rapier a streak of quicksilver in the murky dock light. The weapon sang as it sliced through the air, its tip catching the moonlight before hooking beneath the crossbow of a temple guard. With a twist of her wrist, she wrenched the weapon from his grip, sending it clattering across the slick stones. Before the man could roar his fury, she pivoted, the rapier's hilt cracking against his temple—a precise, merciless strike. He dropped like an anchor.
But there was no respite. Another guard lunged, his halberd gleaming with venomous runes. Astris ducked, her brother Miles' dagger already in motion. The blade—its hilt worn smooth by years of her brother's grip, the leather stained with memories of countless skirmishes—slipped between the plates of the guard's gorget as if guided by fate. A wet gasp, a shudder, and the man fell, his blood pooling black underfoot.
The leviathan chose that moment to roar.
The sound was tectonic, a primal scream that shook the docks to their pilings. Its colossal tail erupted from the water, swatting a barge into splinters. Waves surged, monstrous and frothing, crashing over the quay. Crates of aetherium shards skidded like kindling, their glowing contents spilling across the stones like shattered stars. Workers screamed, scrambling for cover as the beast's maw yawned above them, rows of serrated teeth dripping brine and malice.
"Clear the docks! NOW!" Noah's voice tore through the chaos, frayed but unwavering. His truth-seeker monocle hung askew, one lens webbed with cracks, yet its fractured glare still swept the pandemonium. He hauled a dockworker to her feet, shoving her toward the alleys, then pivoted to block a stray crossbow bolt with his forearm guard. The mana-tipped projectile sparked against the steel, hissing like a viper. "The shards—they'll detonate!" he bellowed, though his warning was swallowed by another deafening roar.
Astris parried a sword strike, her rapier ringing as it deflected the blow. Her boots slipped in the brine-soaked wreckage, but she steadied herself, Miles' dagger slashing upward to carve a red line across her attacker's thigh. The guard stumbled, and she pressed forward—always forward—toward the leviathan's thrashing shadow.
Somewhere in the maelstrom, the silver cat darted, a ghostly streak guiding fleeing workers to Noah's rallying point. But Astris's gaze locked on the beast, its gargantuan form blotting out the moon.
Then, the tide turned.
The battle's momentum shifted like a storm surge. Just as Kaufmann's forces tightened their noose, two figures materialized from the smoke and spray, their forms blurred by ash and shadow. The first moved with a swordsman's lethal elegance, his blade a ribbon of obsidian that seemed to drink in the firelight. It sang as it carved through the air—a low, keening hum as it sheared through temple steel and bone alike. His footwork was a dance, every pivot and lunge flowing into the next, as if the chaos around him were nothing but music to which he alone knew the steps. Guards fell in his wake, their armor split like overripe fruit, their cries drowned by the roar of the leviathan.
The second figure was a specter of silence. Twin daggers flickered in his hands, their edges catching shards of moonlight as he wove through the fray. He dismantled Kaufmann's crossbowmen with chilling efficiency—a slash to sever bowstrings, a thrust to pierce gaps in armor, a spin to evade retaliation. Bodies dropped soundlessly, their throats cut mid-shout, their weapons clattering to the docks un-fired.
Astris caught the flash of a smirk as the swordsman's hood slipped—Zaiden. The prince's face was alight with something feral, his eyes gleaming like a wolf's in the dark. Recognition sparked in her chest, cold and sharp, but there was no time to dwell. A temple guard lunged at her, his double-bladed axe arcing down with a guttural roar. She twisted, her rapier meeting the axe haft with a shower of sparks, the impact shuddering up her arm. The guard pressed closer, his breath reeking of rot and cloves, his weight driving her boots backward through the brine-slick wreckage.
Miles' dagger found its mark before she'd even consciously decided to strike.
She jerked it upward, the blade slipping beneath the guard's breastplate, through the soft meat beneath his ribs. His eyes bulged, hot blood gushing over her knuckles as he sagged against her. She shoved him aside, her rapier already whirling to parry the next attacker—a spearman thrusting at her flank. Steel shrieked against steel. Across the dock, Zaiden's laughter rang out, bright and unhinged, as he disarmed a guard with a flick of his wrist and rammed his sword through another's gut.
The leviathan's tail crashed down again, the dock splintering beneath its force. Waves surged, dousing flames and scattering shards of aetherium that hissed where they struck the water. Noah's voice cut through the din, raw with urgency, as he dragged a wounded laborer from the path of collapsing debris.
Astris fought on, her world narrowed to the dance of blade and breath. The dagger in her hand—Miles' dagger, its leather grip worn to the shape of her brother's palm—felt like an extension of her rage. Every strike, every parry, was a promise: This ends tonight.
But in the fractured moments between clashes, she glimpsed the prince again. His hood had been torn entirely free now, his raven hair plastered to his brow with sweat and seawater. He fought like a man possessed, his earlier smirk replaced by a snarl, his swordplay shedding its elegance for something brutal, hungry. For a heartbeat, their eyes met across the carnage—his gaze sharp, calculating, alive with a question she couldn't parse.
Then the leviathan screamed, its maw gaping as it lunged toward the docks, and the night exploded in emerald fire. Hidden among the cargo, Gretchen's orchids burst into venomous blooms, their pollen choking the beast's senses. It recoiled, thrashing, as Enzo's calculations blared from a mana-projector: "Retreat vector—now!"
Seth barked orders, rallying the team to fall back. Astris hesitated, eyes locking with the hooded prince across the fray. He saluted her with his bloodied sword before vanishing into the smoke, Zander a shadow at his heels.
The bay erupted in an emerald flare as Lucy's final vials ignited the shard-laden barges. Kaufmann's leviathan bellowed, retreating into the depths, its cargo lost to the flames.
Breathless and bleeding, the team regrouped in the Lower Ward's alleys. Seth clapped Astris's shoulder, his voice gruff. "Done. Now finish that damned contract."
She nodded, Miles' dagger still clutched in her fist. The silver cat emerged from the shadows, its fur singed but eyes bright. It trilled, tail brushing her boot where the shard hummed as if sharing a secret.
Above, the clock tower chimed. Somewhere in the night, a prince laughed.