Sanè moved as soon as he had decided.
He immediately activated his shadow powers.....as the darkness welcomed him like an old companion. His form thinned, as the edges blurred, the shadows wrapped around his body as he slipped forward—his form now was silent, patient, and deadly careful. He moved like a viper in tall grass, every motion of his was deliberate, every pause was calculated.
Within moments, he was past the city gates.
The guards never noticed a thing.
They stood stiff and alert, as their eyes scanned the road ahead, unaware that something far more dangerous than any beast had already passed between them.
Sanè flowed through the darkness at their backs, shadows bending to his will, swallowing his presence entirely.
Once inside Dravenloch, he slowed, as he looked at the streets before him...
The outer districts of the city lay broken.
Charred walls rose like blackened ribs, the roofs had collapsed inward, and the stones beneath his feet were cracked and scorched. The smell of burnt wood and dried blood still lingered in the air, clinging stubbornly despite the passage of time.
Sanè's steps softened even further as he moved along the damaged streets, as he stick deeper into the shadow. His eyes traced the destruction in silence. This was the city that had crushed him when he was nothing.....this was the place that had taught him hunger, fear, and bitterness, and now, it was bleeding.
As he advanced, he heard voices.
Sanè froze instantly, pressing himself into the shadow of a half-collapsed wall. His presence melted away as if he were never there.
Two figures stood not far ahead, speaking in hushed tones beneath a flickering lantern....as they passed.
"I'm telling you," one said, his voice was tight with suspicion, "Young Master Ban didn't come here just to help. The Skull Family never does anything without a price."
The other one snorted quietly. "You think we don't know that? But what choice did we have? The beasts were overrunning the city."
There was a pause, then the first voice continued, more cautiously now. "Still… it doesn't sit right with me. Lord Alaric and Lord Fen leaving at a time like this? Leaving the city to Lady Mabel alone?"
"That's what I can't understand," the second replied. "Especially with a Skull Family heir present. If something goes wrong—"
"They must trust her," the first interrupted. "Or they're desperate."
Sanè listened to all these....as he thought to himself...
So they really had left the city in her hands.
That alone surprised him. Even without fully understanding the deep politics between the great families, Sanè knew enough to recognize how dangerous that decision was. Leaving a wounded city under the watch of a young heir—while a Skull Family prodigy lingered within its walls....it was not something done lightly.
The voices faded as the two figures moved on.
Sanè waited for a while longer, before coming out of the shadows.
He then followed the wider roads, slipping between the pools of darkness cast by towering structures that had somehow survived the destruction. Eventually, his gaze lifted, and he slowed to a stop.
In front of him was....a massive building.
Tall stone walls rose proudly into the night, unmarred by the chaos that had devastated the surrounding districts. Lanterns burned steadily along its perimeter, as their light reflected off the polished stone and iron gates engraved with sigils of authority.
The Maverick Clan's stronghold.
Sanè studied it carefully.
Even from the outside, the difference was obvious. Where the rest of the city looked wounded and exhausted, this place stood firm—guarded, ordered, and alive.
From where he was....he could see cultivators moving along the walls in quiet patrols, their auras was restrained but at the same time obvious that they were of higher rank.
Sanè exhaled slowly.
This was risky.
But he had already decided.
He slid toward the gates, shadows peeling away from the stone to open narrow paths for him. Timing his movements between patrols, he slipped through an opening near the base of the wall and entered the grounds.
Inside, the grandeur struck him harder than he expected.
Wide stone paths lined with carefully trimmed greenery stretched across the inner courtyard. Fountains still flowed, their water catching moonlight as if the city beyond the walls were untouched by disaster. Servants and guards moved about calmly, performing their duties with disciplined efficiency.
For a moment, Sanè felt out of place.
Then he reminded himself why he was here.
He drifted through the grounds unnoticed, weaving between shadows cast by pillars and archways. Near a quiet corner of the courtyard, he noticed a torn piece of parchment lying abandoned near a crate.
An idea formed instantly.
Sanè crouched, picked it up, and without hesitation, bit into his thumb. A bead of dark blood welled up. He pressed his thumb to the parchment and began to write— his strokes was slow but deliberate as he carefully write the message.
The message was short and direct....Intended for one person only.
When he finished, he folded the parchment once and placed it deliberately on a low stone bench near a well-lit path—somewhere it would be found quickly.
Then he stepped back into the shadows.
It didn't take long.
A guard walking his route noticed the parchment almost immediately. He frowned, bent down, and unfolded it. The moment he saw that it was written in blood—and recognized the name it was addressed to—his posture stiffened.
He didn't hesitate.
Clutching the parchment tightly, the guard hurried away, heading deeper into the stronghold....not even bothering to figure out how it got there.
Sanè followed from a distance, curiosity sharpening his senses.
The guard reached a more restricted area and slowed, stopped by two elite guards stationed outside a tall door. He spoke in urgent whispers, holding out the parchment.
The two guards exchanged a glance.
One of them took the parchment and nodded sharply. "We'll handle it."
The original guard bowed quickly and left.
The two guards turned, knocked twice on the door.
"Enter," came a calm voice from within.
One of the guards stepped inside, leaving the other outside.
Sanè could not see what happened next, but he didn't need to. He felt it—the moment the parchment was handed over, there was a subtle shift in the air.
Inside the room, Mabel Maverick sat at a desk littered with reports and maps. Her armor lay discarded nearby, and exhaustion weighed heavily on her shoulders.
She took the parchment, already assuming it was from her father or her uncle.
But the moment she unfolded it and read the message, her expression changed.
This was not her father's writing.
Nor Fen's.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she read it again.
"Unlock the east-side window."
That was all.
No seal or signature. Just an instruction.
For a long moment, she sat perfectly still, listening to the quiet of her room. Then, slowly, she rose.
Curiosity clearly evident in her eyes. She crossed the room and unlatched the tall east-facing window, pushing it open just enough for the night air to slip inside. As the moonlight spilled across the floor.
She stepped back, arms crossed, and her senses alert.
If this was a trap, she was confident she could handle it.
Minutes passed.
Then—
The shadows near the window began to move.
Not shifting with the light or stretching naturally, instead they gathered.
Darkness thickened, pooling unnaturally as if poured into the room. The air grew colder, and heavier. Mabel's instincts screamed, and she immediately drew her aura close, ready to strike.
Then the shadows rose.
They folded inward, shaping themselves into a human outline. Limbs formed. then a head with a mask.
And then the darkness peeled away.
Sanè stood before her.
His presence was quiet, restrained, but undeniable. Crimson eyes glinted faintly beneath his mask, and the shadows at his feet clung to him as if reluctant to let go. One of the skills he received when he advanced to the three-void star hollow.....an ability that made him one with the shadow.
Mabel's breath caught.
For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke.
The room was silent except for the distant sounds of the city beyond the walls.
So this was him.
The masked figure from her dreams.
The one marked with 99.
Sanè met her gaze evenly, his expression was hidden, as his posture was calm.
Their first real meeting—alone, in the heart of her family's stronghold—had finally begun.