Morning mist clung to the cobblestone streets, masking the alleys in a cool, shrouded calm. Aran moved soundlessly along the rooftops, his steps calculated and deliberate. He had always preferred the quiet solitude of the city's upper levels to the chaotic streets below. This vantage point gave him the perspective he needed to remain unseen, an essential trait for someone in his position.
The previous night's encounter with Lyra still weighed on his mind. She had told him about Kade's hidden vault—a stash of weapons, gold, and, most importantly, information that could bring the ruthless criminal to his knees. But there had been something in her tone that unsettled him. It wasn't the claim that bothered him—it was the ease with which she had handed him the knowledge. Lyra was playing a game, and Aran wasn't yet sure of the rules.
Still, if her information was even half-true, this could be the break he needed.
The warehouse loomed ahead, an ancient, decaying structure on the edge of the city's industrial district. From the outside, it looked abandoned, its windows shattered and ivy creeping up its weathered walls. The perfect place to hide something valuable.
Aran crouched on the rooftop across from the building, his sharp eyes scanning for any signs of life. He noticed a flicker of movement—a shadow darting behind a stack of crates near the entrance. A guard. There was more to this place than its dilapidated appearance suggested.
He needed a distraction.
From his belt, Aran pulled a small metal sphere, the size of a marble. He rolled it between his fingers before tossing it down into the alley. The device bounced once before emitting a loud crack, followed by a burst of harmless but blinding light.
The guard reacted instantly, his hand flying to his eyes as he stumbled back, momentarily blinded. Aran used the opportunity to descend silently from the rooftop, slipping past the disoriented guard and into the warehouse.
Inside, the air was thick with dust, and the faint scent of mildew permeated the large, cavernous space. Wooden crates and rusted metal containers lined the walls, but it was eerily quiet, as though time itself had forgotten this place.
Aran moved deeper into the building, his steps ghost-like on the old, creaking floorboards. He didn't trust Lyra, but he couldn't ignore the possibility that she was telling the truth. If Kade truly had a stash here, it would be well-hidden. Aran's instincts told him to start looking for a hidden entrance, something concealed beneath the floorboards or behind the walls.
He scanned the room, noticing a faint trail of disturbed dust leading toward the far end of the warehouse. There, near a set of discarded barrels, was a patch of floor that looked slightly newer than the rest. Aran knelt, running his fingers along the wooden planks. As expected, he found a small, nearly invisible latch.
With a quick, practiced motion, he lifted the latch, revealing a hidden trapdoor.
Beneath it, a narrow stone staircase descended into the darkness. Aran hesitated for only a moment before slipping through the opening and making his way down.
The air grew colder as he descended, the faint smell of damp earth filling his nostrils. At the bottom of the staircase, a faint glow emanated from the walls—small, embedded stones that gave off a soft, ethereal light. They illuminated the chamber enough for Aran to see the room clearly.
The space was small, no more than a dozen paces across, but what it contained was astonishing. Shelves lined the walls, filled with neatly stacked bags of gold coins, ornate weapons, and ancient relics. Scrolls, some still bound with wax seals, were piled on a nearby table.
But in the center of the room, on a raised pedestal, sat a single object that commanded Aran's full attention: a dagger.
It was unlike any weapon he had ever seen. The blade was pitch black, absorbing the light around it, and seemed to pulse with a dark, rhythmic energy. The hilt was encrusted with strange runes that glowed faintly, as if alive with ancient power.
Aran's breath caught in his throat. He had heard whispers of such weapons—artifacts of immense power that could change the balance of entire cities, even kingdoms. This was no ordinary blade.
His mind raced. If Kade possessed this, it explained a great deal. But why would he leave it here, unguarded save for a single blind fool outside?
Aran stepped toward the dagger, his hand outstretched.
Just as his fingers grazed the hilt, a voice echoed through the chamber.
"Quite the find, isn't it?"
Aran froze, his hand hovering over the blade. He didn't need to turn around to recognize the voice. Lyra.
He straightened slowly, his face betraying no emotion as he turned to face her. She stood at the entrance of the chamber, a sly smile playing on her lips.
"How did you get in here?" Aran's voice was cold, calculated.
Lyra took a few steps forward, her eyes never leaving the dagger. "I have my ways. And besides, I wasn't going to let you have all the fun, now was I?"
Aran's eyes narrowed. "This was a test, wasn't it? You wanted to see if I'd find it."
Lyra's smile widened, her eyes glinting in the dim light. "You're not as easy to read as the others, Aran. That's what makes you interesting."
Aran's hand hovered over the dagger. He was tempted to take it, to end this conversation with one swift strike. But Lyra was dangerous in her own right, and he knew better than to underestimate her.
"You have what you want," she continued, taking another step forward. "But the real question is: what will you do with it?"
Aran's eyes flicked back to the dagger. He could feel its power thrumming through the air, pulling at him, urging him to take it.
"I'm still deciding," he said evenly.
Lyra's smile never wavered. "Well, whatever you decide, know this: Kade will come for it. He's not the type to leave loose ends, especially ones this valuable."
Aran nodded slowly. He had already considered that. Kade was no fool—he wouldn't leave something this powerful unprotected unless he had a plan in place.
But then again, neither would Aran.
Without another word, he closed his hand around the hilt of the dagger, feeling its cold, unnatural energy course through his body. Lyra watched him with a curious glint in her eyes, as though she were watching a particularly interesting game unfold.
"We're not finished yet," Aran said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lyra tilted her head slightly. "No, I don't suppose we are."
With the dagger now in his possession, Aran knew that the real game was about to begin. But he also knew that Lyra was right—Kade wouldn't rest until he reclaimed what was his. And when that time came, Aran would be ready.
But first, he needed to understand the true nature of the weapon he now held.