Jamie decided, very quickly, that Elias was useless.
She stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, staring at him with narrowed eyes.
He lay exactly as he had when she'd first entered the room—on his back, one arm slightly off to the side, breathing slow and even. Peaceful. Annoyingly peaceful.
"Ellie."
No response.
She walked closer and nudged his shoulder.
"Oi, Ellie!"
Nothing.
Her brow twitched. She glanced around the room—the wardrobe, the desk, the window. Her gaze landed on the pitcher of water on the nightstand. She picked it up, tilted it, and let a few drops fall onto his forehead.
He didn't move.
She poured more.
He didn't move.
"Don't tell me you're doing that thing again."
Still nothing.
She sighed, set the pitcher down. She ;eaned in, squinting at his face as if expecting it to suddenly twitch or betray some hidden awareness.
It didn't.
She straightened.
"Wow. Amazing. I come all the way here to invite you to explore and you're… asleep."
A pause.
"…or dead."
She poked his cheek.
"Nope. Warm. Unfortunately."
Jamie huffed and planted her hands on her hips.
"We all have Spirit Domains yet we don't spend every moment we get in them. Come n I'm bored, wake up and lets do something."
No response.
"Fine. Don't wake up."
She turned, took three steps toward the door—
—and stopped.
Then slowly turned back.
"…actually no."
Her eyes gleamed with mischief.
"If you won't wake up nicely…"
She opened her palm and moisture coalsesced and froze in an irregular shape.
Jamie grinned.
"Let's try something else."
She reached into his pants, and dropped the ice cube directly into them .
Nothing.
He didn't even flinch.
Jamie stood there, staring.
"Fine. Stay here. Be weird."
She turned and walked toward the door again, this time not stopping.
"I'm going out."
Jamie clicked her tongue and left.
The corridor was empty.
The stairs were empty.
The sitting room was empty.
Jamie had noticed it the moment she stepped out—but now, without the distraction of Elias, it pressed in on her.
The townhouse was dim, the evening light barely filtering through the windows. Shadows stretched along the walls, pooling in corners, gathering beneath furniture, clinging to the ceiling like something alive.
She slowed.
Her expression shifted.
"…Gyan."
She muttered the name under her breath.
'That woman...'
Jamie had learned through her observation of the secretary that Gyan was not a woman who could be fooled by ordinary means. She saw everything. Heard everything. Moved through the house like a shadow that had decided to wear an apron.
She had said it so casually:
"I alone am enough for security."
Jamie hadn't believed her.
Now—
She wasn't so sure.
Because it felt like—
Something was watching.
Not in one place.
Not from one direction.
Everywhere.
Every shadow.
Every dark corner.
Every space where light didn't quite reach—
It felt like there were eyes.
Jamie's fingers twitched slightly.
"…creepy."
The shadows didn't move.
But they felt—
Active.
Aware.
Waiting.
Jamie took a slow breath.
Then exhaled.
"Alright," she whispered.
"You wanna play?"
She pressed her thumb against the copper ring on her finger—the one SK had given her. The storage artifact. She had filled it with the artifacts she and Elias had made: Useful things. Distracting things. Fun things.
She reached into the ring and pulled out a small bone vial, no larger than her thumb. Inside, a pale liquid swirled—slow, viscous, almost sleepy.
'Sleeping Smoke.'
One of the more useful artifacts she had cobbled together in the Iron Forest. When broken, it released a cloud of vapor that induced drowsiness. Not enough to knock someone unconscious—but enough to slow them. To blur their vision. To buy a few seconds. They didn't know what stage Gyan ws but this smoke was potent enough to affect the Diredeer when she was attempting to lure them towards the Ibex so it should work.
'Right?'
She crept toward the front door, draw on her Anti-Flow. The fluctulent nature of hers made it easy for her to become almost unnoticed by Flow sensing.
Jamie took a step forward.
The shadows reacted.
Barely.
Thin strands—like threads—shifted along the walls.
Webbing.
Black. Subtle.
Reaching.
Jamie's eyes widened slightly.
"Oh hell no—"
She moved.
Fast.
The web snapped toward where she had been—
—and caught nothing.
Jamie darted down the hallway, her Anti-Flow flickering wildly, her presence slipping in and out of existence.
The shadows followed.
A strand shot across the corridor ahead of her—
She ducked under it.
Another rose from the floor—
She kicked off the wall and vaulted over it.
"Okay okay okay—this is bad—!"
Her foot hit the ground—
—and something pulled.
A thread wrapped around her ankle.
Jamie's heart skipped.
"Oh no you don't—!"
She slammed her Anti-Flow outward in a sharp pulse—
The thread snapped.
She stumbled forward—
—and froze.
At the end of the corridor—
The front door.
Closed.
Locked.
And behind her—
The shadows gathered.
There was a soft clatter from the side.
Her head snapped toward it.
A small, scruffy cat leapt onto the windowsill from outside.
It paused.
Looked at her.
Then—
Jumped down.
The shadows shifted.
Jamie didn't hesitate. She burst the vail and bolted straight past the distraction as the room was briefly shrouded in a pale smoke.
The shadows snapped toward the cat—
And Jamie slipped through the door in the same instant, twisting the handle and forcing it open just enough to squeeze through before slamming it shut behind her.
Jamie stood there, breathing hard and wiped her forehead.
"…I'm buying it food if I see it again."
The city at night was different.
Quieter—but not empty.
Lanterns lit the streets in warm pools of gold. People moved in smaller numbers now— the merchants had packed their stalls. The towering buildings that had seemed so grand in the daylight now loomed like sleeping giants, their windows dark, their shadows pooling in the streets below. Workers were heading home, guards shifting patrols.
Jamie pulled her hood up and pocketed her hands. She was waearing aniother artifact. It was a thin, black band—like a bracelet made of dark wood, but etched with faint, jagged markings that seemed to shift if you looked at them too long.
The Obfuscation Band, a Sixth grade artifact.
It dampened presence. Blurred perception. Didn't make you invisible—but made you forgettable.
Her Flow Supression was flawless and with the band, she became easy to ignore. A passing glance would slide off her.
A second look would fail to find her.
Unless—
You were strong enough. Or paying attention.
In Blackhaven, her father had told her, people laid down their burdens at night. They rested. They slept. They picked their burdens back up in the morning, but for a few hours, they were free.
She didn't understand politics. She didn't understand factions or succession or the endless maneuvering of lords and ladies. But she understood people. And the people of Aethelberg were not happy.
She moved through the streets quickly, light on her feet, slipping between people and shadows with practiced ease.
Then—
She slowed and pressed herself against a wall as a pair of knights walked past.
They were not like the automatons from earlier. These men were tired. Their armor was scuffed, their boots were worn, and they walked with the slumped shoulders of people who had just finished a long shift and wanted nothing more than to go home.
Their presence was steady. Grounded.
Votaries.
Jamie could feel it.
And—
Close to noticing her.
She adjusted her Anti-Flow immediately, letting it flicker more erratically, breaking the consistency of her presence and slipped behind them.
They did not look at her. They did not sense her. They were so tired they fell for the alteration in percepotion and simply walked past, talking in low, easy voices.
"…I'm telling you, it's getting worse," one of the knights said, a broad-shouldered man with dark skin, grey streaking his temples and a scar across his jaw said in a tired voice.
"Every week, something new."
"Yeah," another replied, lighter-skinned with a nose that had been broken at least twice his tone more subdued. "King's not getting better either and no one is doing anything about it."
Jamie tilted her head.
'King?'
Curious, she followed behind them.
"What are they supposed to do? He's the King. You can't just—"
"You can't just nothing." The first knight's voice was sharp.
"The succession is a mess. The lords are picking sides. And while they're playing their games, the rest of us are just trying to get by."
The third knight—tall, thin, with a face that seemed permanently worried—glanced over her shoulder. Jamie pressed herself into a doorway.
"Lower your voice," he said.
They turned a corner. Jamie followed. Careful.
"I'm not saying anything that isn't true."
"True doesn't matter. What matters is who hears it."
The first knight scoffed but did not argue.
They walked in silence for a moment.
Then the second knight spoke again.
"There are lords out there who actually care about their people."
"Oh yeah?" the first replied. "Like who?"
A pause.
"Lord Dukker."
The first knight snorted.
"Dukker? He's the only one standing in the way of the other lords. You think that's because he cares? He's playing the long game. Just like the rest of them."
"I don't know," the third knight said quietly.
"I've heard things. About Blackhaven. About what he did after the attack. He stayed. He rebuilt. He didn't stay in the capital to save his own skin."
"He's a Lord. They're all the same."
"Not all of them."
"All of them.I hear he brought his two kids with him to the chaber today. You think he wasn't making some sort of statement to the other Lords?"
Jamie's expression darkened.
'Idiots.'
She didn't understand politics. She didn't understand the succession or the factions or any of the complicated nonsense that made adults act like children. But she knew Alaric. She had seen him work. She had seen him stand in front of his people and apologize, even when it wasn't his fault, even when no one expected it, even when he had nothing to apologize for.
He was not like the others.
'Uncle Al is trying.'
That much was obvious.
"Bloody fools," she muttered under her breath.
They kept walking.
Oblivious.
"One thing's for sure," the third said. "All this tension? It's not just the nobles."
"Oh?"
"There's that group."
The others stiffened slightly.
"Don't," the second warned.
"What? I'm just saying."
"You know what they do to people who just say."
"She's right," the first knight said.
The ones who think the king and the lords are all useless. Trying to 'Tear down the monarchy which has failed us'."
Jamie blinked.
'Huh?'
"The Revolutionists." The third said simply.
The first knight shrugged.
"But you have to admit—they're not wrong about everything."
The second knight's eyes widened.
"Are you—"
"What? You saying we shouldn't join?"
"Shut up," the second snapped. "That's treason."
"I'm joking. Relax."
Jamie frowned.
'So these 'Revolutionists' are the ones causing all the tension? Why not just find them, punch them in the face and be done with it?'
Problem solved.
Easy....kind of.
The first knight stopped walking.
The other two stopped with him.
He was staring at a dark alley across the street. The entrance was narrow, shadowed, impossible to see into.
"Did you see that?"
"See what?"
"Movement."
The three knights exchanged glances.
"Probably just a cat," the second knight said.
They crossed the street, alert. They reached the alley and peered into the darkness.
Nothing.
The second knight took a step forward.
Then—a clatter.
A bin tipped over. A shape burst out—small, fast, a flash of fur and teeth—and dashed across the street with a rat in its mouth.
The three knights stared.
"I told you it was a cat," the second knight said flatly with a sigh.
"I saw it."
"You saw a cat."
"It could have been something else."
"It was a cat."
The first knight muttered something under his breath and turned away.
"We're all on edge," the third knight said. "It's been a long week."
"No. I saw something."
"Give it a rest." The third said putting an arm over her comerades neck and leading him away.
Jamie exhaled slowly and slipped forward to the edge of the alley.
The knights walked on, their voices dropping again, turning to safer topics—families, dinners, the price of bread.
Watched them go then turned back toward the alley. Just in time to see movement.
The knights had seen something. Not a cat. Something else. Someone else.
And that someone had gone into the alley.
Jamie followed.
A group of figures. Maybe five. Maybe six. Their faces were hidden in shadow, their clothes dark, their movements purposeful. Jamie's shoulder burned.
The mark, Oroboros, was pushing her foward.
A push.
A nudge.
Follow.
She didn't know why.
She didn't know where.
But she followed.