The docks were a blur behind me, the warehouse fire still clawing at the night sky. I didn't stop running until the roar of flames became a whisper, swallowed by the tangled alleys of Valenport's east quarter.
Only then did I let myself slow, each step a pounding reminder of the fight I'd just survived. My arms trembled from the strain of resonance overload, my heartbeat still drumming like a war call in my ears.
I should have felt relief. Instead, there was only that gnawing awareness — Rhea was still alive.
That wasn't a failure.
It was an investment.
She'd felt my strength. She'd measured it. And I knew assassins like her — the ones who didn't give up — respected only one thing: power. The next time we met, she wouldn't underestimate me.
And maybe… she'd be useful.
I slipped into the maze of side streets that bled into South Market, the air thick with the smell of smoke from street cookfires and the tang of sea salt carried inland. Lanterns swung overhead, their golden light revealing glimpses of faces — merchants, thieves, Council spies pretending to be merchants, and people too careful to look at anyone for too long.
I didn't go back to the safehouse. Not yet.
The fight had drawn the Council's attention. That meant I needed to disappear long enough to make them believe they'd lost my trail… and in the meantime, take a step they wouldn't expect.
I needed information. On Rhea. On Aric. On the Council's internal fractures — because I'd seen it in their enforcers' hesitation at the docks. They weren't a unified blade. They were a collection of knives pointed at each other's backs.
And if I could find the cracks, I could shatter the whole thing.
The informant's den was buried under three layers of false fronts — an apothecary that sold nothing worth buying, a locked trapdoor beneath the shelves, and a corridor lined with charms to confuse anyone without permission to enter.
When I stepped inside the final chamber, the smell hit me first: paper dust, candle smoke, and the faintest whiff of dried blood. Scrolls hung from the walls like trophies; small chests and coded ledgers littered the tables.
The man behind the desk looked up. His eyes were as sharp as I remembered.
"You survived," he said, as though mildly impressed. "Good. I hate wasting perfectly good files."
I tossed a coin pouch onto the desk. Heavy. Gold.
"I want the Council's Hunter rotation list. And I want to know who in that building wants Aric dead."
He tilted his head. "That's a dangerous question, Kael."
I leaned forward. "So was surviving Aric's betrayal. I'm still here."
For a moment, we just watched each other — him gauging if I was worth the risk, me wondering if he'd ask for triple payment.
Finally, he reached into a drawer and pulled out two sealed envelopes. "The first is the Hunter roster for the month. The second is a… let's say, preliminary guest list of Aric's enemies. You didn't get these from me. You didn't even see me."
I took them. "Understood."
His gaze flicked to the faint scorch marks still clinging to my shoulder armor. "You're not the only one moving tonight. The Council's rattled. Something bigger than you has them restless."
"What?"
"They've been meeting in secret. Not the whole Council — a fraction. That's never a good sign."
I didn't need him to tell me what that meant. In Valenport politics, a "fraction" was another word for a coup.
And if there was a coup brewing, it was either against Aric or led by him. Either way, it was an opening.
I didn't sleep that night.
I found a vantage point high above the city, perched on the slanted roof of an abandoned bell tower. From here, Valenport sprawled out like a living thing — alleys like veins, the market squares beating hearts of trade, the High Council Hall a crown of dark stone on the horizon.
I unsealed the first envelope. The Hunter roster was neat, precise — the Council's pride in ink form. Rhea Veylan's name was there, marked with a black sigil denoting "active pursuit." Beside it: no listed end date. Permanent contract.
She wasn't just a hired blade for this job. She was my shadow until one of us stopped breathing.
The second envelope was messier — names scrawled quickly, some scratched out, others underlined twice. Seven Council members in total, each with their own rivalries and dirty secrets. Two names stood out: Lord Helvar, who controlled the city's military supply lines, and Lady Corvene, who owned the largest private assassin network in the port.
Both had histories of opposing Aric. Both had the resources to hurt him.
I could use that.
A grin tugged at my lips. If Aric thought I'd only come at him head-on, he'd learn otherwise.
I was going to burn his support from the inside out, and I'd start by feeding his enemies the kind of information that would make him bleed resources and trust in equal measure.
I dropped from the bell tower as dawn bled into the sky, moving with the surefooted silence of someone who'd lived in the city's shadows for years. Every step felt sharper now — my body more responsive, my senses heightened. The fight with Rhea had pushed me further than I'd realized.
C-Rank was only a number. What I felt in my bones was something deeper — the first real taste of the power I'd lost.
And I wanted more.
I was halfway through the east quarter when movement caught my eye. A shadow, darting across the rooftops, keeping pace with me.
Not Rhea. Too short. Too light.
I slowed, hand going to my sword.
The figure dropped down in front of me, hood falling back to reveal a familiar smirk.
Ryn.
"You're harder to find than a sober councilman," she said.
"You were looking for me?"
"Loran sent me. He says the Council's doubled the bounty on your head. That means they're scared. And when they're scared, they get unpredictable." She glanced at the sealed envelopes still in my grip. "I'm guessing you have something to do with that."
I didn't answer.
Her grin widened. "Good. I hate being bored."
We walked together toward the safehouse, but my mind was already ahead, plotting.
Aric had made his move when he sent Rhea.
Now it was my turn.
And I was going to make him regret underestimating the man he left to die.