I crawled, then sprinted toward the main street, my eyes locked upon the rising silhouette of the Citadel. Even as I ran, a cold prickle of dread settled between my shoulder blades—the unmistakable weight of a gaze piercing through me from the shadows. I did not look back; I simply tightened my grip on the dagger, ready for anything.
I had been here many times, making it my mission to study every inch of this place. The current chaos would distract the guards, providing the opening I had long been planning for. This could be my lucky day.
The Citadel stretched ahead, its pale tiers rising into the clouds in the measured layers I had memorized. White stone, carved with precision—columns supported open halls, and walls were etched with intricate patterns. Gold-capped domes crowned the upper levels, their glow is magnificent as always.
Large domes anchored the highest structures, while smaller ones clustered around them, tucked between stairways and terraces. Statues lined the edges of courtyards and rooftops, their features softened by time but still distinct, watching over the paths I knew by heart. Water cut through it all in a fixed course—a liquid ribbon winding between buildings, feeding into basins that connected one level to the next.
Bridges linked every section, turning the complex into a stone maze. Greenery broke the masonry in deliberate patches: palms, low shrubs, and bursts of red and pink flowers pressed into corners. Everything was maintained; everything was placed with intent.
I lingered in a corner, listening to the enforcers shouting orders. One by one, they entered the armory, then ran in formation toward the main square where the Elite were spreading destruction. It didn't take long for them to leave the Citadel unguarded.
I slipped into the corridors, navigating the halls I had memorized. The interior was quiet, the air heavy with the scent of incense and old stone. I moved through the alcoves, avoiding the main paths.
A guard stepped into view.
I pushed off the ground and closed the distance in a heartbeat, my shoulder slamming into his chest before he could react. The impact drove him back against the wall, the stone cracking behind him. His hand reached for his weapon.
Too slow.
I twisted under his arm, using his own momentum against him, and drove my dagger into the soft gap beneath his ribs. His breath broke mid-exhale.
Another presence was behind me.
I felt it before I heard it. I dropped. A blade cut through the air where my neck had been a second earlier.
Shit.
I pivoted on my heel, kicked backward, and caught the attacker in the chest. He staggered. Not enough. I pushed forward again.
Left, right. One, two, three, four. Again.
I dropped and leaped backward, flipping through the air as I mimicked the lethal grace of the Elite I had watched in the main square; their movements were still embedded into my mind. I landed upon a guard's face, a cold shiver running through me at the sickening crack of bone beneath my boots.
Another guard rushed in from the corridor. I jumped, landing on his shoulder for half a second before flipping over him. My dagger came down as I passed, slicing across his throat in a clean, silent arc. He collapsed before he could even turn.
Behind me, footsteps. I didn't look.
I bent backward instead, my spine folding with the motion as the strike passed over me. My hand caught the attacker's wrist mid-air.
A twist. A snap.
His gun dropped. I used the opening to drive my elbow into his jaw, finishing him as he staggered back into the gloom.
"I suppose I'll be needing these," I muttered to the dead man sprawled across the floor.
I set to work stripping them of their gear, securing a sidearm and a fresh supply of radiant loads. My fingers moved with speed, rummaging through their belts to claim a whetstone for my own blades and a small leather pouch that clinked with the weight of stolen coin.
"Bye bye" I waved at them goodbye.
Silence returned in fragments, broken only by my breathing. I stood still for a moment, listening.
Where can it possibly be?
The thought pressed against my skull as I moved through the halls, stepping over bodies and vanishing into the hidden corridors. I stopped behind a column when I heard voices from a nearby chamber. Two people were arguing in the main hall.
"That doesn't make sense," a female voice argued, frantic. "The labs in Julien's court are highly protected. Not even an ant could enter."
"Without someone on the inside helping," a male voice finished. "The person in charge, to be precise. Isn't it, my dear Nirma?"
"Indeed, it is," another voice interrupted. Nirma let out a sharp gasp of shock.
I used their distraction to my advantage and crept forward. The clock inside my pocket grew louder and louder.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
The ticking grew louder and faster the more I ran. I pulled the device from my pocket and flipped it open; its hands were spinning wildly in frantic circles.
What's wrong with it?
But then, as I surged forward, the hands began to steady, finding their counterpoise as if being pulled by an invisible magnet.
Finally, they snapped into place, pointing directly at a heavy, iron-bound door at the far end of the hall. The stone walls of the Citadel began to shimmer and bleed into a different, sickening light.
An ominous energy was seeping from beneath the doorframe, pooling like liquid shadows and filling my lungs with a sudden, sharp dread.
The ancient stone corridor was dim, lit only by the flickering glow of oil lamps and the eerie, red light filtering through the ornate, stained-glass window above the imposing door.
It was made of intricate gears and bronze clockwork, its dark wood carved with symbols that pulsed with a faint internal luminescence. A massive cog mechanism dominated its center, its teeth interlocking with the precision of a celestial map.
A small, weathered plaque read: THE KEEPER OF SECRETS.
"Finally. Found you."
I pulled the key, slid it into the lock, and twisted.
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
The gears groaned into motion, the bronze teeth turned, and the door slowly ground open.