The streets of Aethelberg were unrecognizable.
Jamie walked through the destruction in a daze, her boots crunching against shattered cobblestones and trampled hydrangeas. The white festival cloth that had adorned every building now lay in tattered, dirty heaps, trampled by panicked feet. The vibrant colors of the celebration had been replaced by the grey of ash and the dark brown of dried blood.
Trampled blue hydrangeas littered the ground, their petals crushed into muddy paste beneath anonymous boots.
In the distance, a dull plume of thick, grey smoke still unspooled into the bruised evening sky from the direction of the docks. The worst of the inferno had been beaten back, but the fire hadn't truly been put out; it smoldered like a festering wound, waiting for a fresh gust of wind.
The smell of burning wood and salt hung heavy in the air.
'What happened here?'
A cold knot of unease twisted in Jamie's stomach. She wasn't usually the worrying type—fear usually morphed into irritation or a desire to punch something or occasionally insulted until they disappeared. But the sheer emptiness of the streets sent a shiver down her spine.
She hurried toward the Dukker townhouse, her heart pounding. Upon arrival she saw no one in the neighborhood. Even the Amberose Estate opposite their own house seemed eerily empty. She burst through the front door.
"Hello?"
No answer.
"Elias?"
Silence.
"Gyan?"
Nothing.
"Anyone?"
Absence.
She checked the sitting room.
Empty.
The kitchen.
Empty.
Finally she climbed the stairs.
"Elias?"
Only the echo of her own voice bounced back. Jamie stared at the bed, something uncomfortable settled in her stomach.
"Where did you go?"
Jamie stood there for several seconds then sighed.
"Fine."
She wasn't going to panic. She had enough problems already.
Needing to wash off the literal and figurative grime of the subterranean nightmare she had just crawled out of, she stripped off her ruined clothes and sank into a hot bath.
As the warm water washed over her aching limbs, her mind drifted backward, replaying the harrowing hours she had just endured.
The crew, battered and exhausted, navigating the uncharted section of the Old Ruins, through corruption hotspots and mutated creatures.
By the time they breached the light, the intoxicating, euphoric haze of the black dandy drug was steadily wearing off the populace. Civilians—both those unfortunate enough to have inhaled the intoxicating fumes and those who had miraculously escaped—were stumbling through the streets, dazed and terrified, trying to piece together the wreckage of the festival.
Armored City knights and Enforcers were shouting orders, trying to establish makeshift quarantine perimeters, while sharp-eyed Inquisitors swarmed the avenues, cross-examining weeping witnesses and zeroing in on anyone who looked remotely suspicious.
Under the cover of the confusion, the Shadow Crew had slipped back into the very same dilapidated warehouse where they had their second encounter with Jamie.
Sasha was in bad shape. She had lost a terrifying amount of blood from the automaton's jagged slash, her breath coming in shallow, rattling gasps. But she was alive—barely—because Gustav had produced a heavy, fourth-tier artifact gifted to him by Tess herself. The device, a necklace with a swirling core of condensed, azure light, severed local space and time around whoever wore it, locking their physical state into an absolute, unyielding suspended animation.
Jamie looked at the artifact around Sasha's neck.
"She'll be okay, right?"
Gustav didn't answer. The silence that followed was heavy and poisonous.
"So what's next?" Jamie looked at the others.
Every pair of eyes turned toward her, and even if Jamie didn't fully understand the complex politics or personal grudges at play, she could vividly feel the sharp, toxic edge of human nature—the primal, desperate urge to apportion blame directed squarely at her.
She had straightened her shoulders, speaking up defensively.
"Look, things are what they are. It's a mess, but it's best to move forward. Besides, Sasha is an awesome person, and you put that necklace artifact on her so she'll be fine, right?"
Mira who was gazing at Sasha's bloodied form turned toward her sharply and she opened her mouth. Before she could lash out, Bram reached out with a heavy, calloused hand, resting it firmly on Mira's shoulder to ground her.
"Don't."
Gustav stared down at the frozen, pale form of Sasha with a strange, unreadable expression. Then, slowly, he turned his gaze to Jamie.
"We need to return to Veridian," Gustav said flatly.
"For Sasha's treatment, and to present our findings to the boss."
Jamie blinked, taking a step forward. "I'll need to go home first, grab a few things—"
"No."
She stopped.
"What?"
"You're not coming, Jamie," Gustav interrupted, his tone final.
"But—"
She opened her mouth to protest but there was a flash of angry intent coming from Gustav. It was so intense but only appeared for a split second before Gustav calmed down. Still it startled Jamie and she stopped dead. Gustav's voice softened when he continied speaking.
"Thank you for assisting us in our investigations. We were able to gather more than enough dirt on Igor because of your help. Even though this isn't how the Grapevine usually operates, we will ensure you get your payment—information regarding Nordhelm—at a later date. For now, go home."
He reached into his coat, pulled out the small clamshell communication artifact, and handed it to her.
"We will communicate with you when we have what you're looking for."
She took it from him and he immediately turned, and walked out into the fading daylight as the coast outside cleared. The others followed suit in grim silence. Bram carried Sasha's suspended, ice-locked body in his massive arms with effortless care.
Mira was the last to leave. She paused when she was standing side by side with Jamie and placed a hand on the girl's head, ruffling her messy hair up.
"Don't try to find us," she had said.
"And don't do anything reckless. You still have to find out what happened to your father. Right?" she smiled at Jamie before walking out of the building.
Jamie had bolted for the door, bursting out onto the street, but the alleyway was completely empty. The Shadow Crew were gone.
The hot water in the tub had turned lukewarm. Shivering slightly, Jamie stepped out, dried off, and threw on a loose tunic and trousers. She hurried back downstairs and stepped out onto the front porch, scanning the quiet street. To her relief, she spotted a familiar figure a few doors down. One of the grand estates belonging to one of the local lords had a servant sweeping up the scattered debris from the street.
Jamie rushed over, her footsteps echoing sharply on the stone.
"Excuse me!"
The middle-aged servant turned around, startled, but as his eyes registered the genuine, wide-eyed worry etched across the young girl's face, his expression softened into deep kindness. He recognized her as the spirited girl Lord Alaric had brought with him.
"Ah, young miss," the servant said, leaning gently on his broom.
"Where is everyone?" Jamie demanded, her voice tight. The man sighed, shaking his head as he continued sweeping a cluster of crushed petals away.
"After what happened today," he said, his voice gentle, "the lords have gathered at the Privy Council. They're discussing what to do next. Whether to cancel this years festival and if not, consider their options."
He paused, resting his hands on the wooden handle, his face creased with genuine exhaustion.
"In the long history of our city, miss, a disruption of this scale has never happened. The common folk are terrified, and the nobility is unsure."
Bending down with a creaking of joints, the servant reached onto the ground and picked up a single, surprisingly unblemished blue hydrangea flower that had escaped being crushed. He brushed off the dirt with his thumb.
"Still," the servant murmured, offering a reassuring smile, "the kingdom has good men like Lord Alaric governing it. We will pull through. You shouldn't be too afraid."
He gently handed the blue flower to Jamie. She took it, the soft petals cool against her palm. Mumbling a quiet thank you, she walked back to her empty house.
A profound, bone-deep weariness settled into her joints. Dragging her feet, she climbed the stairs to Elias's room. She walked over to the wardrobe reached out, and took down the dark blue, utilitarian jacket Elara had lovingly sewn for him. Clutching the fabric tightly to her chest, she curled up on his bed, burying her face in the fur collar , wondering where he could possibly be as darkness pulled her under into a heavy, dreamless sleep.
CRACK.
The sound of a fist colliding violently with flesh echoed off the marble pillars.
Lord Gide Baiden's fist connected with Rivas Oberoi's jaw. Rivas staggered back, his hand flying to his face. Blood dripped from his split lip. Baiden glared up with venomous fury, surging forward to grab Rivas by the expensive silk lapels of his doublet.
"What the hell were you thinking?!" Baiden roared, spattering flecks of spit into Rivas's face.
"You could have gotten us all killed. Worse, if that revolutionary had cracked under interrogation, our entire conspiracy would have unraveled in a single afternoon!"
"That wasn't supposed to happen. The Revolutionary acted on his own." Rivas said, rising from the ground.
"Bulshit!" Baiden snarled, grabbing Rivas by the collar and slamming him against a limestone pillar.
"That revolutionary was always a mad dog, yes—everyone knew that! But that doesn't change the fact that you went behind our backs with an operation that nearly exposed everything!"
Rivas sneered, lifting a hand to contemptuously swat Baiden's grip away from his clothes.
"Oh, spare me the theatrics, you absolute buffoon." He wiped the blood from his lips and straightened his collar with deliberate slowness.
"Do you honestly think you're clever, Baiden? Assembling a clandestine strike team to infiltrate the royal palace and kidnap the twelfth prince just to hold a knife to the King's throat? And you dare judge me when the best you could think of was brain-damaged idiocy? Did you to think that you could ever succeed?"
Baiden's face drained of color, his eyes widening in sheer panic.
"How... how could you possibly know about that?"
Rivas didn't answer but instead looked at him with contempt and scoffed.
"Incompetent fool. The boy—Raileigh—isn't just some pampered royal brat. He is guarded by two of the most lethal, terrifying combatants ever trained to be attendants for the Princes. Even if they are Votaries, they possess more latent destructive potential than half the elite guard combined!"
Before Baiden could respond, a voice cut through the tension.
"Enough."
Ki Lin Feng stepped out from the shadows of the corridor. Her stride was measured, her posture ramrod straight, and her eyes burned with an icy, bottomless disdain as she looked down upon the two squabbling conspirators.
Baiden stammered, raising a trembling hand. "Lord Lin Feng, please, let me explain—"
She raised a single, slender hand, silencing him instantly without even raising her voice.
"This was a loose, fragile partnership from the very beginning," Lin Feng said, her tone smooth as glass yet sharp enough to draw blood.
"I never expected loyalty, honor, or common sense from either of you from the very beginning. But I certainly did not expect such staggering, catastrophic incompetence."
She turned her back on them, her dark robes sweeping the stone floor.
"I will remember your actions moving forward. Now... come along."
Without waiting for a response, she strode toward the heavy oak-and-steel doors that led into the main council chamber. Rivas and Baiden glared at each other before following.
As they pushed through the double doors, a wall of deafening noise washed over them.
The main council chamber was absolute bedlam. The Lords were on their feet, screaming, pointing fingers, and shouting over one another across the circular tiered seating. Accusations of treason, security negligence, and political sabotage bounced off the vaulted dome ceiling like cannon fire.
"Order! Order in the chamber!" the Speaker yelled, slamming her ceremonial gavel against the desk until her face turned purple.
The herald entered first and the shouting subsided as the realized what his presence meant. He raised his staff and was about to slam it into the floor in announcement but the king burst through the door.
"This is not the time for histronics!" He said walking past him as the gathered Lords rose in reverence. He walked straight to the dias at the front which was facing the lords, reserved for when he attends the council. He didnt sit however and instead turned to face them.
"Lords of Aerthos," Aldirk said, his voice quiet but carrying.
"We have a crisis. The docks are burning. The Rustmark warehouses are destroyed. And our people are afraid."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the room.
The question is: what must we do to survive what comes next?"