Kael'Tun did not wake gently.
The sun had barely lifted her golden hem above the jagged skyline when the bells began to ring. Not the joyous chimes of morning trade, but the sharp clang of alarm - metal on metal, a sound that bit through sleep and stirred the streets like a stick through a hornet's nest.
In the heart of the merchant quarter, guards scrambled. The Slave Market - the pride of Kael'Tun's black-blooded elite - had been emptied.
Every. Single. Cage.
Gone.
The iron gates had been unlocked without a trace of force. The guards were found sprawled across the floors, snoring peacefully beside their useless weapons, smiles still on their lips as if they were dreaming of something lovely. And worst of all... the sigils meant to protect the market had been tampered with.
By magic.
Illegal magic.
The nobles were furious.
The merchants were terrified.
And somewhere high above it all - in a tower built of obsidian and opal - Lady Serava sipped her morning tea.
---
The Lady of Silk and Thorns reclined on a velvet chaise, watching the city from behind a curtain of lace. Her attendants fluttered nearby like silent birds, tending to her robes, her hair, the delicate instruments of her power.
She set her teacup down with a clink, eyes sharp and unblinking.
"Find me the list of who was sold last moon," she said, voice smooth as aged wine. "And cross-reference it with tribal affiliations. Particularly any from the Serpent Clans."
An attendant bowed and vanished.
Lady Serava stood, moving to her viewing balcony. From here, she could see the golden-topped spires of Kael'Tun's inner sanctum, the slow swirl of panic spreading through the streets below like ink in clear water.
"Such precision," she murmured. "Such style. Whoever did this wasn't trying to send a message. They were claiming a prize."
She ran a jeweled finger down her lips, thinking.
"Lavender."
Even the name tasted strange. Too floral. Too... innocent.
But Lady Serava knew better. She had seen the glint in the woman's eyes. A sharpness beneath the whimsy. The madness that clung to her like perfume.
"She's not from here," Serava whispered to herself. "And yet she moves through this world like a seasoned player. That makes her either foolish... or incredibly dangerous."
She tilted her head.
"And Vashir... I wonder... Are you protecting her? Or being collected yourself?"
---
Later that day, a council was called in secret. The city's power brokers gathered in a round room of carved blackstone - all grim faces and folded arms.
"She must be stopped," one of the nobles snarled. "This act is a declaration of war."
"War?" another snapped. "With who? A woman in lavender and a snake that doesn't speak?"
"She stole from every tribe represented in that market," a third murmured. "There will be consequences."
And from her place in the shadows, Lady Serava spoke at last.
"She has challenged the natural order of this city," she said. "But let us not underestimate her, nor charge into retaliation like children with fire sticks. Let us watch her. See what she wants next. Because make no mistake-"
Her smile was cold as frostbite.
"Collectors never stop at one."