The air in Eyrendyl was different now—tense, heavy, thick with unspoken fear. What had once been a city bustling with students, merchants, and scholars was now a battlefield in the shadows. The Blood Nights had left their mark, and people had taken notice.
It started with the students. Those who had once believed their noble status, money, or affiliations would shield them quickly learned otherwise. Some packed their belongings and left under the cover of night, disappearing into their family estates, retreating to safer lands. Others, lacking the means or influence to flee, huddled together in paranoia, whispering about who might be next.
The Bank, ever neutral, ever watchful, had started increasing its own security. Their armored enforcers patrolled the wealthier districts with a vigilance rarely seen. If even they felt the need to tighten their grip, it meant something was coming—something worse.
Valdris, furious over the assassins' persistence, issued new orders. The students still under academic protection were to be relocated again, this time to a hidden facility deeper within the city. The academy had safehouses—abandoned buildings once owned by scholars, research sites long forgotten, and underground chambers meant for worst-case scenarios. Now, those places would serve their purpose.
At Kalem's forge, the mood was grim. The group gathered in silence, save for the occasional sound of metal clicking against metal as Kalem absentmindedly tapped a steel plate against the table.
Nara sat cross-armed, her gauntlets resting beside her. There was an unusual tension in her posture, her usual fire subdued. Lyra, next to her, stirred a cup of something warm, hands wrapped around it as if drawing comfort from the heat.
Jhaeros leaned against the wall, Velka curled up at his feet, ears twitching at every little sound outside. Garrick sat in the corner, sharpening his axe with slow, measured strokes.
Kalem broke the silence. "I heard about what happened."
Lyra exhaled, setting her cup down. "It wasn't just an attack. It was a message."
Nara scoffed. "A damn cowardly one."
Kalem's eyes flickered between them. "Details."
Lyra hesitated. "We were just walking through the marketplace. Nothing unusual. Then suddenly, a carriage crashes into a stall. Panic spreads. We get pushed with the crowd. And then—" She swallowed. "Someone grabs me."
Jhaeros straightened. "How many?"
Lyra shook her head. "At least three, maybe more in the crowd."
Nara clenched her fists. "They weren't expecting me, though."
Kalem tilted his head. "What happened?"
The fire user smirked, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I happened."
Garrick grunted. "Details."
Nara's fingers drummed against her arm. "They tried to pull Lyra into an alley. I caught the movement, and well… let's just say one of them won't be using their hands anymore."
Kalem stared. "You broke his hands?"
"And his ribs," Nara said, shrugging. "The other two ran."
Lyra let out a small laugh, though it was laced with nerves. "I don't think they expected a hand-to-hand fighter with fire to show up."
Kalem nodded. "They were testing. Checking who's vulnerable."
Jhaeros' tail flicked. "And now they know Lyra isn't."
The forge fell into silence again. The weight of everything pressed down on them.
Jhaeros eventually broke it. "You know, students are leaving the city altogether."
Kalem nodded. "More?"
"Yeah. And some never made it out."
That made Kalem pause. "Assassins?"
Jhaeros exhaled sharply. "Or something else. Some carriages just… vanished. No wreckage, no signs of struggle. Just gone."
Kalem's fingers tapped against the steel plate. "Meaning someone's making sure there are no loose ends."
Jhaeros leaned against the doorway, his eyes scanning the forge as if expecting an attack at any moment. "If worse comes to worst, what's your plan?"
Kalem sighed, setting the steel plate down. "If worse comes to worst, I will have to reap some souls with my swords."
Jhaeros smirked. "Dramatic."
Kalem gave him a tired look. "Realistic."
The Ilvaar's smirk faded. "Yeah… I know."
The fear in the city was spreading. It was only a matter of time before it turned into something else.