The orphanage stood silent, a crumbling testament to forgotten dreams. Its weathered walls loomed under the heavy gray sky, casting shadows that seemed to whisper secrets. Inside, the air was thick with tension.
Headmistress Ilenta paced the worn carpet of her office, her fingers twisting nervously. "What is taking them so long? It's well past the time we agreed upon," she muttered, eyes flicking to the clock for the fifth time in as many minutes.
A chorus of footsteps broke her anxious thoughts. Children rushed in, faces bright with curiosity. "Headmistress! There's a carriage outside!"
Her heart leaped, then settled into a stern rhythm. "Finally... They're here." She smoothed her dress, fighting to control the trembling in her hands. "You all, off with you now! No disturbances. Lady Miriam, make sure everything is ready. We cannot afford any mistakes today."
Miriam nodded, hurrying away as Ilenta took her position at the entryway, a painted smile on her face. The door creaked open, its groan echoing through the hall. A man's footsteps reverberated off the stone floors—firm, purposeful, heavy with authority. Yet, as the figure emerged from the shadowed doorway, Ilenta's heart plummeted.
It was not the man she had been waiting for. It was someone far more dangerous.
A towering figure in a tailored black coat stood before her, his presence commanding the room. His sharp eyes gleamed beneath perfectly combed ebony hair, his face a cold, unreadable mask. Richard Blackwood.
Her mouth went dry. A chill raced down her spine. Why is he here? Panic coiled tight in her chest. Did something happen to Hans? Was he caught?
Summoning every ounce of willpower, she forced her lips into a smile that did little to hide her fear. "M-My lord... What an unexpected honor. Had I known you were coming, I would have prepared a proper reception. To what do we owe this pleasure?"
Richard's eyes were as cold as winter steel, his smile nothing more than a formality. "My apologies for the unannounced visit. I had some... business to take care of. Unfortunately, it brought me here."
The headmistress's knees nearly buckled. Her voice quivered. "Business, my lord? How could someone as insignificant as me possibly assist a noble of your stature?"
Richard's gaze sharpened. He took a slow step closer, his silhouette darkening the doorway. "Oh, I believe you already know the reason for my visit," he said, his voice low and smooth, slicing through the air. "Shall we discuss this in your office? Just the two of us."
Her stomach twisted into knots. Every fiber of her being screamed to run, to escape, but her feet were rooted to the ground.
She barely managed a nod. "Y-Yes... Right this way, my lord."
Once the door closed behind them, the mask of civility dropped. Richard's presence filled the room, oppressive, suffocating. His voice was a blade, each word precise and lethal. "Headmistress Ilenta, you are charged with aiding and abetting the Four Leaf drug cartel, human trafficking, embezzlement, and collaborating with terrorist factions. Your property and assets have been seized. You will be handed over to the Duke of Burgundy, where judgment will be passed. Given the severity of your crimes, death is the likely outcome."
Ilenta's legs gave out, and she collapsed to her knees, trembling. "Please... please, no... I was forced into this! Hans... he threatened me! I had no choice! Mercy, my lord... I beg you!"
Richard's face remained emotionless. "Silence. Even filth like you should maintain some dignity." He gestured, and his men entered, iron grips lifting her to her feet as she struggled, sobbing.
Through her tears, she saw Lady Miriam standing in the hallway, eyes wide with shock.
"M-Milord... Who are you?" Miriam stammered, her voice a faint whisper.
Richard regarded her, his expression softening by a fraction. "You are the assistant, correct?"
Miriam nodded.
"Then from this moment, you are the headmistress. Run this place properly. If I ever find corruption under your rule... you will not receive the same mercy."
Miriam's mouth went dry. "Y-Yes, my lord."
Richard's gaze shifted to the papers scattered on the desk. "Now, I require one more thing from you."
"Anything, my lord."
"A girl named Lyra resides here, does she not? Bring her to me. I want no trace of her left—erase her records, make it as if she never existed."
Miriam's heart skipped a beat. "What... What do you intend to do with her?"
Richard's eyes turned to steel. "That is not your concern. But for your peace of mind, she is not to be harmed. My colleague has taken an interest in her—an exceptional mage who wishes to take her as a student. Consider this a... scholarship of sorts."
Miriam hesitated, then bowed. "I... understand. I will bring her to you at once."
Moments later, Lyra entered the room, her young face etched with confusion and fear. "Lady Miriam, what's happening?"
Before Miriam could answer, Richard's cold voice cut through the air. "So, you are the one Bailey spoke of... Interesting. Your aura... it's faint, but unmistakable. What power lies dormant within you, I wonder?"
Lyra took a step back, eyes wide. "I... I don't understand..."
The air grew heavy, a crushing pressure that made it hard to breathe. Lyra's instincts flared, and an invisible force surged from her, pushing against the suffocating weight.
Richard's lips curled into a faint smile as the pressure lifted. "Ah... A defensive response. Impressive, considering you have no training." He turned away, his coat sweeping behind him. "Gather your things. We leave immediately. I have no intention of letting you meet the men who are coming to collect your headmistress. It would only complicate things."
Lyra looked to Miriam, confusion giving way to fear. "What... What's happening? Who are you?"
Miriam's shoulders sagged, defeat evident in her eyes. "Go, Lyra. Gather your belongings... and say goodbye to your friends."
Richard's voice was cold and unyielding. "And make sure no trace of her remains. Any document, any mention of her existence... erase it. Consider this a gift of survival, for both of you."
Miriam's gaze dropped. There were no questions left to ask. She knew who stood before her. To defy him was to invite death.
"Understood, Lord... It will be done."
Richard's eyes flickered with satisfaction. "Good. I expect efficiency." He turned to leave but paused at the doorway. "For your own sake, I advise you not to speak of this to anyone. Not even a whisper."
Upstairs, Lyra packed her small, worn bag with the few belongings she had. The room was dim, sunlight filtering through the cracked window panes, casting dusty beams on the creaking floorboards. She moved slowly, her fingers brushing over the old, tattered book she used to read to the younger children and the threadbare scarf she'd worn every winter.
The door burst open, and Marina and Elen rushed in, eyes wide with curiosity and worry.
Marina's voice wavered with excitement and fear. "Lyra! Are you… are you leaving?"
Lyra turned to face them, her lips curving into a bittersweet smile. "Yeah… I'm going to be a student for someone influential."
Elen's eyes sparkled with wonder. "You mean… like magic and stuff?"
Lyra nodded, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Yeah. They said I might learn magic."
Marina's jaw dropped. "Magic?! That's incredible, Lyra! I always knew you were special!" Her eyes glistened, and she threw her arms around Lyra, hugging her tightly.
Elen quickly joined, her small frame shaking as she tried to hold back tears. "Don't forget us, okay? Promise you'll write!"
Lyra's voice broke, her eyes shimmering. "I could never forget you. You two are my only friends… my family."
Marina wiped her tears, forcing a smile. "Let's make a promise! When we grow up, when we've all accomplished something, we'll meet again. As adults. And we'll laugh about all the silly things we did here."
Lyra's heart clenched. She tightened her grip around them, her voice trembling. "It's a promise. No matter what… we'll meet again."
They stayed like that for a while, clinging to the moment, unwilling to let go. When they finally pulled apart, Marina and Elen were red-eyed but smiling
Lyra made her way downstairs, her heart heavy. The afternoon sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the orphanage grounds. She glanced back one last time, seeing Marina and Elen standing by the window, waving with teary smiles. She waved back, her vision blurring.
Near the carriage, Richard stood waiting, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, so you had friends after all. Didn't peg you for the sentimental type."
Lyra shot him a glare but said nothing.
Richard chuckled, then tossed two small bands to Marina and Elen, who caught them in surprise. He handed another one to Lyra. "These are communication bands. They'll let you send messages to each other—text or voice. Just touch the emblem to connect them. Now stop crying. I don't have time for blubbering kids."
Marina's face lit up, her tears instantly forgotten. "Really?! We can talk to Lyra even after she leaves?"
Richard rolled his eyes. "Obviously. I wouldn't have given them to you otherwise."
Elen held the band tightly, her eyes wide with gratitude. "Thank you, mister!"
Richard's expression softened, just for a moment. "Yeah, yeah. Don't mention it." He turned to Lyra. "Time to go. Get in the carriage."
Miriam approached, bowing respectfully. "Thank you, my lord. This means so much to them."
Richard handed her a check, his tone brisk. "Consider it a donation. Use it to fix this place up. Make it livable."
Miriam's eyes widened as she looked at the amount. "T-Thank you, Lord Blackwood."
Richard didn't respond. He merely gave a dismissive wave and climbed into the carriage after Lyra.
Inside the carriage, Lyra sat stiffly, her bag clutched to her chest. She stared at the floor, her thoughts swirling. After a moment, she looked up. "Are you… a member of Cazadora?"
Richard's eyes gleamed with intrigue. "Oh? She told you about that?" He leaned back, crossing his legs. "Interesting. Most people don't even know we exist. But yes, I'm a member. My title is Mountain King, 9th Seat."
Lyra furrowed her brow. "You all have titles and seats? I thought you were… mercenaries."
Richard's laugh was sharp, echoing through the carriage. "Mercenaries? Is that what you think of us? We're far more than that. Cazadora operates on a different level. We don't flaunt our existence, but we're no secret either. Our influence runs deep."
Lyra's curiosity was piqued. "Then… what are you?"
Richard's gaze turned calculating. "We're hunters. Assassins. Spies. Enforcers. We deal with threats that ordinary people can't handle. Each of the thirteen seats represents one of the top members. We lead our own squads, and our titles reflect our nature and powers. I'm the Mountain King. Bailey, the one who took an interest in you, is the Mystic Seer, 6th Seat."
Lyra's eyes widened.
Richard smirked. " And if she's taken an interest in you, it means you're far from ordinary." He looked out the window, his voice dropping. "That's why I came myself. Usually, seated members don't bother with trivial matters. But if Bailey's instincts are right… you might be something special."
Lyra looked down at her hands, a mix of fear and excitement twisting in her chest. "I… I don't understand."
Richard's expression softened, just a little. "You don't need to. Not yet. Just know that from now on, your life won't be simple. Not with Cazadora watching over you."
His words hung in the air, heavy and ominous. Lyra hugged her bag tighter, the weight of her new reality sinking in. She looked out the window, the orphanage growing smaller in the distance, her old life fading away.
Richard closed his eyes, his posture relaxing as he leaned back. "Get some rest, kid. Things are only going to get more complicated from here on out."
She whispered, so quietly that no one could hear, "I will change my fate and have good life and I promise… I'll see you again."
The carriage rolled onward, carrying her toward an unknown future.