The tavern flickered with low firelight. Soldiers drank, gamblers laughed, and beneath the noise, doctrine soaked the walls. Glory to the Sun God. Obedience is light. Doubt is shadow.
Zee entered alone.
No cloak to hide him. No mask to disguise. Just the man, the weight of something inevitable in his steps.
At the center table sat a decorated officer, cheeks flushed with drink. His voice carried with pride.
"...and when the child screamed, the others broke. It's true. Fear burns faster than flesh."
Mugs clinked. Heads nodded. Not shame. Worship.
Zee didn't speak. He walked straight to the man.
The officer barely turned. "Problem?"
Zee's fingers touched his neck-two swift taps. A pulse of static light snapped through the man's body. Paralysis took him mid-breath, mug frozen in air.
Zee looked him in the eyes. Calm.
"Your king is next."
Steel whispered. The blade drove in clean-angled, precise. When it pulled free, the officer slumped like something discarded.
Blood pooled.
Zee turned and walked out.
Behind him-nothing.
No one moved. No one spoke.
The tavern held its breath, as if sound itself feared to follow.
---
Elsewhere...
The document was laid on polished stone, still curled from heat.
The woman reading it stood still. Behind her, another woman-unnaturally tall-waited without breath. The candlelight barely reached her eyes. A shadow, breathing softly behind the flame.
A voice, sharp-edged:
"He made it loud."
The reader tapped the page once.
"He used magic," she said.
"Messy."
"Deliberate."
Silence.
Then a single word, almost a whisper:
"Interesting."