Whispers of the Underworld
The night over Fantom City had deepened by the time Lane left Clara behind.
Moonlight coated the rooftops in silver, and the cool wind of the northern district carried the scent of smoke, cheap perfume, and spilled ale. The streets below were alive with shadows and murmurs—gamblers, drunks, merchants of questionable goods.
But Lane ignored all of it.
Her steps were light, almost silent, as she ran across the rooftops.
Victor's list remained folded inside her sleeve.
Every instruction he had given was clear in her mind.
Soon the rooftops changed.
The narrow streets of the Northern District appeared below.
Once this area had been one of the most dangerous places in Fantom City—controlled by gangs, smugglers, and drug dealers.
But things had changed recently.
Now the brothels and gambling houses still existed…
But the drug trade had quietly vanished.
In its place, a far more valuable commodity was being sold.
Information.
