Night in the manor was never truly silent. The walls creaked as if they were settling in their sleep, the distant kitchens clinked and clattered as the night crew scrubbed copper pots, and the occasional snore of a guard echoed faintly down the hall.
From his cradle, Sharath lay still, eyes half-lidded, pretending to be in the blissful oblivion of infant dreams.
In reality, he was running his own **night surveillance operation**.
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## The Stakeout
It had been hours since the magister's departure, but the atmosphere in the manor still felt… tight. Guards had been rotated twice, and Sharath caught sight of two new faces patrolling near the nursery door. The air was thick with the kind of alertness he'd only ever felt during production incidents in his old IT job — the kind where no one says "this is bad" out loud, but everyone starts triple-checking backups.
Braska, the ever-vigilant hunting dog, was curled near the door. Every so often his ears twitched toward sounds Sharath couldn't hear.
Sharath had been staring at the carved hawk Varundar left him, as if it might spontaneously start giving tactical advice. Nothing. Just a hawk. Very decorative. Zero operational support.
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## Overhearing the Guards
Two guards paused outside the door, speaking in low voices.
"…said the magister's report will be sealed." "Sealed? Then the Council's already got wind of it." "Could mean opportunity." "Or trouble."
Opportunity or trouble — apparently, in noble politics, those two were practically synonyms.
The conversation drifted away, replaced by the faint shuffle of footsteps. Sharath tucked that away for later analysis. For now, he filed it under *Possible Upcoming Drama*.
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## Braska's Warning
Braska's ears pricked again, this time sharper. The dog stood, padding toward the window. His muscles tensed.
Sharath tilted his head toward the window as much as his limited neck control allowed.
The moonlight filtered through the glass, catching faint movement — something slinking along the outer wall. It wasn't a bird, wasn't a person… and it definitely wasn't a cat.
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## The Not-a-Cat
The creature appeared on the windowsill a moment later. It was the size of a fox, with fur that shifted color as it moved, blending into the shadows. Six legs, each tipped with hooked claws, gripped the stone as easily as flat ground.
Its head turned toward the cradle, and Sharath caught a glint of reflective eyes. Not predatory — more… calculating.
Oh, perfect. We've gone from political intrigue to cryptid encounters.
The creature tilted its head and let out a quiet trill, almost musical. Then it sniffed the air, as if tasting the magic that still lingered in the room from the aura reading.
Braska growled, low and dangerous.
The not-a-cat froze, then, in one fluid motion, leapt off the sill and vanished into the night.
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## Servant Response
Eyebrows appeared minutes later, clearly summoned by Braska's growl. "What's wrong with him?" she asked, peering around.
Vinya followed, holding a lantern. "Might've been an owl. Or one of those wall-scurrying things the stable boys complain about."
Wall-scurrying things? This world really needed a better animal control department.
They checked the window, found nothing, and reluctantly went back to their quarters.
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## Thinking Like a Hacker… in a Cradle
Sharath couldn't shake the feeling that the timing was too convenient. Aura reading in the day, stealthy visitor at night? Either it was a coincidence, or someone was already sniffing around for confirmation.
The creature hadn't attacked. It had observed.
That meant reconnaissance. And reconnaissance meant more would follow.
In his old life, he'd call this the *probing phase of an intrusion attempt*. Which meant it was only a matter of time before someone launched the main exploit.
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## Ishvari's Late Visit
Some time later, the door creaked open quietly, and Lady Ishvari slipped inside. She crossed the room without lighting a lamp, her movement graceful in the moonlight.
She leaned over the cradle, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.
"You're going to change everything," she whispered.
It wasn't said with fear. It wasn't quite hope, either. It was… recognition. As if she had already seen the outlines of the future and was simply stating a fact.
Her hand lingered for a heartbeat, then she withdrew and left as quietly as she came.
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## The Hawk and the Moonlight
When she was gone, Sharath reached for the carved hawk again. The moonlight caught on its wings, casting the shadow of a bird in flight across the cradle.
For a moment, he imagined that shadow rising, carrying him beyond these walls, past the watchful eyes and cryptid scouts.
Not yet. But soon.
For now, he lay still, eyes drifting closed, his mind already sketching the architecture of the plans to come.
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