The city of Eyrendyl was drowning in fear.
By now, the people had stopped asking who would be next. They already knew—anyone. The Blood Nights didn't discriminate. Nobles, commoners, scholars, mercenaries—everyone was fair game.
Death had no pattern, no warning. And worse, no end in sight.
Kalem stood outside his forge, arms crossed, watching the flickering lanterns that barely kept the darkness at bay. The air was thick with tension, thick with the stench of smoke from burnt-out homes. The dorms had been destroyed, and now the city itself was becoming a battlefield in the shadows.
Jhaeros entered the forge with measured steps, Velka at his side. His sharp eyes were darker than usual.
"Another one," he said, voice tight.
Kalem didn't need to ask.
"They left her in the merchant district this time," Jhaeros continued. "Right in front of the Bank's offices."
That was deliberate. A message.
Kalem exhaled through his nose. "The Bank won't take kindly to being challenged."
"They've already doubled their patrols," Jhaeros said, sitting on a wooden crate. "But even their enforcers are being careful. These assassins aren't amateurs."
Kalem nodded. "No, they aren't."
For days now, Kalem had watched the city shift, watched paranoia take root. Taverns had emptied. Merchants whispered behind closed doors. Even the usual criminals had gone quiet.
And then there was them.
The ones lurking in alleyways, dressed as ordinary folk but moving too precisely. The ones sitting in dark corners of inns, their backs to the walls, eyes scanning every face that entered.
The assassins were waiting. Watching.
For what, Kalem didn't know.
But he would find out.
Elsewhere, at an old, half-abandoned church, Nara clenched her fists, flames flickering along her knuckles.
"This is ridiculous," she growled. "We need to do something."
Lyra, sitting on a stone bench, shook her head. "What do you suggest? Run around looking for the killers?"
"If we find one, I can make them talk," Nara muttered.
Lyra sighed. "I don't doubt that. But we don't even know who to look for."
Nara gritted her teeth. She hated this—being hunted like prey. It went against everything in her nature.
A gust of wind passed through the empty church halls, making the torches flicker.
"We're being watched," Lyra said quietly.
Nara immediately turned, her flames intensifying. "Where?"
Lyra didn't answer. She just felt it—that creeping sensation of eyes in the dark.
Then, movement. A shadow shifting.
Nara reacted first. She launched forward, gauntleted fist crashing into a wooden pillar as fire surged around her. The old wood splintered, collapsing into flames.
Silence.
No one was there.
Lyra stood slowly, pressing a hand to her chest. "They're playing with us."
Nara's eyes glowed, fire licking at her arms. "Then let's burn them."
Lyra grabbed her wrist. "Not yet. If they wanted us dead, we would be."
That was the worst part.
The assassins weren't striking recklessly. They were waiting. Toying with them.
And that meant something even worse was coming.
Near Midnight
In a dark alley, Tavrin stood alone, his expression unreadable.
He had done business with all sorts before—smugglers, thieves, mercenaries, even killers. But this? This was different.
A figure stepped out of the shadows, hooded and masked. Their voice was smooth, calm.
"The time is near."
Tavrin didn't flinch. "That so?"
The figure tilted their head slightly. "Eyrendyl is not prepared for what's to come."
Tavrin exhaled slowly. "Then you best be careful."
A pause.
Then, the figure chuckled. "Oh, I intend to be."
And just like that, they were gone.
Tavrin let out a breath, his fingers twitching.
For the first time in a long while, he felt something unusual.
Not excitement.
Not curiosity.
But dread.