Catherine's blood ran cold in her veins. The triumphant certainty she had felt just hours before had curdled into a cold, suffocating horror. The image of the thin, clinical black thread attached to Mathieu's note was seared into her mind.
It was the equivalent of a spymaster realizing all her codes had been broken, that all her communications were being read by the enemy. Her first network, her first attempt to command from the shadows, was a resounding failure. Worse, it was a trap that was about to snap shut on her most loyal pawn.
She began to pace her library, a predator suddenly aware that she herself was in a cage. The silence and security of the room had become a mockery. She was isolated, and her only link to the outside world, Mathieu, was now compromised.
Exposed.
The enemy knew his face, his name, and his connection to the Square of Scriptures.
The first thought that came to her was cold, ruthless, a survival reflex inherited from the alleys. Sacrifice the pawn. Mathieu was a tool.
A damaged tool is a liability.
Let him be captured, abandon him to his fate, sever all ties. It was the logical decision. The decision of the Spider's Way.
But another, more complex thought surfaced. Mathieu wasn't just a pawn. He was her only field agent. He was her eyes and hands in the Scriptorium.
And the note he had just deposited contained the name of Jun-Ho Park, her first tangible lead toward The Rook, toward vengeance for the murder of her family.
To sacrifice Mathieu was to sacrifice that lead, perhaps forever. That was a luxury she could not afford. The cold logic of strategy clashed with the burning impatience of her new vengeance.
And then, there was the cost. She had made a promise to Mathieu, a promise of power and partnership.
To betray him so quickly, to throw him to the wolves after his first successful mission… it set a precedent. What kind of goddess would she be if she did not protect her faithful? Her future could not be built on a foundation of betraying her own.
The decision was made, not out of sentiment, but out of long-term calculation. Mathieu was too valuable an asset to be abandoned. The information was too vital to be lost. She had to intervene.
But how? She couldn't leave. Kenji was watching.
And even if she could, going to the Square of Scriptures would be walking into an obvious trap. Soren, the Confessor, was certainly observing the location. She needed a third party, an unsuspected and disposable agent.
Her mind raced through her limited resources. There was only one option. A street urchin who owed her a favor and whose face was anonymous enough to blend into any scenery. Rick.
She had to contact him. And for that, she once again needed the unwitting help of her jailer.
She spent an hour composing herself, transforming her panic into a performance. She adjusted her mask. The Oracle's distant sadness gave way to a feverish agitation, that of a seer in the grip of an urgent and fragmented vision.
She left her library and headed for Valerius's study, where she knew he worked late. She entered without knocking, her breath short, her eyes wide.
"Magistrate!" she said, her voice a pressing whisper.
Valerius started, surprised by her intrusion and her state.
"Catherine? What is it?"
"A vision. Now. It's confusing… A knot in the threads of destiny. It is tightening around the Square of Scriptures. Where it all began."
She took her head in her hands, feigning confusion.
"The echo of the relic I received today… it is trapped there. I cannot move forward, I cannot decipher its secrets for you until this knot is untied."
"What must be done?" Valerius asked, completely captivated, rising from his chair.
"I need an anchor. An object from that place, but it cannot be retrieved by anyone involved. Not by me, not by you, not by your guards. Your power and mine would contaminate the object. It requires a simple soul. An innocent hand."
She stared at him, her eyes shining with a mystical urgency.
"There is a boy in the slums. Near the Serpent's Coil alley. An orphan with sharp eyes. I saw him… in a dream. His innocence is the only thing that can touch the object without breaking it. Send your men to find him. Have them bring him to the edge of the square. He must go alone, pick up a simple sycamore leaf that has fallen near the third bench, and bring it to me. It is the only key."
Her plan was an insane gamble, based on the fact that Valerius was so thirsty for results he would accept any ritual, no matter how bizarre.
The idea of sending his guards to find a street kid to pick up a leaf was absurd, but in the context of magic and destiny, it became a necessary and crucial step.
Valerius hesitated, then his thirst for power won out.
"Very well. If that is what destiny demands. My men will find your boy."
Catherine returned to her library, her heart pounding.
The die was cast. She waited, every minute an eternity.
Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, she sensed a change.
She risked another minimal projection of her consciousness, not toward the square, but toward the slums, where she had first met Rick.
She found his life-thread, a small, confused, and frightened glimmer. Valerius's guards had found him and were taking him away.
Her plan was working. But as she was about to sever the contact, she felt it again.
The black thread.
It was not attached to Rick, but it was there, nearby. A cold, observant presence, sweeping the district.
Catherine's breath caught.
Soren wasn't just watching the dead drop. He was much smarter.
He had understood that a message had been passed, and he must have traced the first messenger, Gregor, to find out who he had seen that day.
He wasn't just waiting at the destination; he was investigating the network's origin. He was hunting down all of Catherine's connections, one by one.
He hadn't just identified her pawn. He was about to find her spy. And Catherine realized with a cold horror that her plan to save Mathieu might well lead another innocent child straight to his death.