The wind cut sharp across the rooftops.

  I dashed along the edge, the city sprawling beneath me in a haze of dim lanterns and drifting fog. Every step sent dust scattering off the chipped tiles - every leap carried the echo of boots against old brick. My whole body, covered in heavy mat-black protected me against the cold dark wind.

  The night was mine.

  I vaulted over a chimney, coat flaring behind me like a shadow given form. The Outer Rim stretched below - taverns, broken windows, narrow alleys humming with the kind of life that never slept.

  A couple hours past midnight, and Morren was still awake - just quieter about it.

  Ahead, a street carved open between two buildings. A long drop. A narrow leap.

  I pushed off the ledge.

  For one heartbeat, I hung suspended over the street - lanterns blurring beneath me, the world frozen in gold and black.

  Then gravity took hold.

  I blinked.

  Reality folded, shadows bending around me. The next instant, my boots hit solid brick again on the opposite side. I landed in a crouch, breath sharp in my mask’s filter. For a moment, all I heard was the thundering of my own heartbeat.

  Then I smiled.

  Under the mask, the expression felt wrong - unnatural - but real.

  “Still got it.”

  The rush was unlike anything else. A clean, precise kind of thrill. The edge between control and chaos. Dopamine flooded my brain, as if divine energy were a drug.

  But as I caught my breath, I felt it - the faint tremor in my legs, the dull burn behind my eyes. I wasn’t used to it yet. Every blink took more out of me than I wanted to admit.

  The stronger I get, the deeper my reserve.

  The Regent told me its like training a muscle, so it's about time I start using it.

  I crossed another roof, this one of cheap clay tiles and rotting wood, until the glow of lanterns below sharpened into something clearer - a tavern. The sign hung half-broken, but the place was alive enough - muffled laughter, faint clatter of bottles, the sour tang of ale in the air.

  Above it, small balconies jutted out from private rooms.

  That was my mark.

  I landed silently on the one nearest the edge, crouched behind a cracked railing.

  The Regent’s information had better be right.

  Through the glass door, I could see them - a man and a woman, tangled in the sheets, asleep.

  Perfect timing, really.

  I tested the handle. Locked.

  Figures.

  Blinking through solid matter felt wrong. Dangerous. Like stepping into something that didn’t belong to me. Plus, I didn't exactly want to test it out now of all times.

  “Guess this is the only way,” I muttered.

  One sharp motion. The glass shattered.

  Both bodies stirred instantly.

  The woman gasped, sitting upright - bare skin and chest catching the lanternlight. The man beside her jolted awake, reaching instinctively for the nightstand before freezing as my pistol pressed against his temple.

  “Halrigg,” I said through the mask’s low mechanical rasp. “Stay still.”

  His eyes darted to the gun, then to the coat, then to the symbol etched into the weapon’s slide. Recognition hit him like a brick.

  “Oh,” he breathed, voice tight with weariness. “Inquisition.”

  Beside him, the woman screamed - high, sharp, panicked - and snatched at the blanket to cover herself.

  I scrunched my brows beneath the mask.

  Fantastic. Now I’m a pervert.

  Halrigg turned to me, jaw tight. “Let the girl go. She has nothing to do with this.”

  Through the vox, my voice came calm, distorted. “Cover yourself with the blanket,” I said to her. “Walk out that door. Anyone outside interferes - he dies first.”

  She trembled, nodding rapidly. Her hands shook as she pulled the blanket around her, quickly opened the door, and fled down the hall.

  The door closed behind her with a soft click.

  Now it was just us.

  Halrigg sat on the bed, naked besides his undergarments, eyes flicking between me and the weapon still trained on his skull. The smell of cheap perfume and sweat hung in the air.

  Wish I’d picked a better time. But I doubt the factory method would work the second time. This’ll have to do.

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  Halrigg exhaled slowly, trying for composure. “Seems I’ve made some very dangerous enemies.”

  “Not yet,” I said. “Not if you answer my questions.”

  He tilted his head slightly, cautious. “May I sit up?”

  I nodded once, gun never leaving his head.

  He straightened slowly, palms open, feigning calm. “Then ask.”

  I leaned forward slightly, letting the shadow of the mask catch the candlelight. “We know you’re planning a citywide revolt.”

  For the first time, something flickered behind his eyes. Shock - followed quickly by control. He masked it well, but not fast enough.

  “How long have you known?” he asked quietly.

  I smiled under the mask.

  I wish I knew how long the Regents known as well.

  You're just lucky he doesn't know about your first half-arsed attempt.

  “Long enough,” I replied. “Doesn’t matter when. Only that you have one way out of this.”

  He gave a small, humorless smile. “Strange. I never took the Inquisition for mercy.”

  “Not mercy,” I said. “Pragmatism.”

  Halrigg’s eyes narrowed. “Then you must want something worth my life.”

  “I want the truth,” I said simply. “And you want to live long enough to give it.”

  He chuckled, dryly. “So you’re asking me to be a traitor.”

  “You were a traitor,” I said, voice cold, “the moment you made a deal with those conspiring against the Empire.”

  Halrigg’s smirk faded. “You’re talking about them, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  A sigh escaped him - half defeat, half resignation. “So you want to kill two birds with one stone. Stop a revolution, and wipe out the snakes in the nobility funding it.”

  I said nothing.

  He smiled faintly, leaning back on his elbows, eyes glinting with the strange pride of a man convinced his doom was noble. “You can’t stop it, you know. Revolt isn’t an infection you cure. It’s hunger. It’s inevitability.”

  His voice took on the practiced rhythm of a man who’d rehearsed his own epitaph.

  “The people of Morren live in smoke and ash. They break their backs for coin that vanishes before it reaches their palms. You burn their dreams, and expect them not to bite the hand that feeds them fire?”

  “I’m not interested in hearing a speech,” I said flatly.

  The pistol stayed trained on Halrigg’s forehead. “Just confirm it.”

  Halrigg tilted his head, his tone measured but wary. “Confirm what?”

  “That Judge Arken is the one supporting you. And you planned to set up Lord Arthur Solmere as the scapegoat - the man who you would say supported it.”

  For a second, the room went completely still. Only the candlelight trembled, swaying with the draft from the shattered glass door.

  Halrigg exhaled through his nose, shoulders sagging slightly. “So you really do know.”

  “I do.” I took a step closer. “And you ought to know that Arken was never going to let you win. He planned to use your ‘revolution’ as justification to seize full control of Morren, and to purge Arthur and the other nobles who opposed him. The blood of your people was meant to be his stepping stone.”

  Halrigg’s eyes widened faintly, then hardened. “Even if that’s true,” he said slowly, “even if we fail - our message will spread. That’s all that matters. We were never fighting to win. Only to start the embers.”

  I sighed through the mask, shaking my head. “You people romanticize suffering like it’s sacred scripture. You’ll burn your own world down just to say it was worth something.”

  His lips curled into something between a frown and a bitter smile. “You’ve clearly never lived under the Empire’s boot, then.”

  Maybe not. But even I can tell useless death when I see it.

  I lowered the pistol a fraction. “Then here’s some unofficial advice, Halrigg.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Advice?”

  “Leave the city.” I met his eyes through the mask’s glass. “You think you’re too noble to retreat. Fine. But at least have a backup plan for when it all goes south.”

  Halrigg frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Consider it advice from someone who agrees with the goal,” I said quietly, “just not with the way it’s being managed.”

  He chuckled - softly at first, then with disbelief. “Didn’t think we had friends in the Inquisition.” His smirk twisted into something sharper. “Though I’d love to know who you are under that mask. To think Inquisitors are just people - makes it almost creepy, doesn’t it?”

  I tilted my head slightly. “The Inquisition sees all, Halrigg. You’d do well to remember that.”

  He studied me for a moment longer, the candlelight reflecting off the black glass that hid my eyes. Then he nodded once, voice quieter. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “Continue exactly as planned. Everything happens as it was supposed to - up until the revolt is about to begin. Then, you stop.”

  He frowned. “Stop?”

  “Arken will think he’s safe. That his plan’s working. But he won’t live to see it through.”

  Halrigg blinked, suspicion creeping into his tone. “And what happens to my people?”

  “That,” I said, “is your responsibility. If you fail to stop them, the whole city burns. And it won’t be the Inquisition lighting the fire.”

  Halrigg took a moment, his eyes downcast as he seemed to think hard. Finally, he breathes heavy.

  "The rot in this decrepit Empire has spread so deep. An Empire born to protect humanity has done nothing but ensure its slow death."

  After a moment, Halrigg’s expression shifted, his face tightening. “Also, how do you even know Arken was working with us?”

  He barely finished the sentence before the door burst open.

  A man stumbled in, rifle raised, shouting- “Halrigg! Whats happ-!”

  Everything happened in a single blink.

  By the time the man’s boots hit the floorboards, my gun was already turned toward him.

  My sword flicked out of my sleeve, shadows coiling along its edge.

  My left arm snaked around Halrigg’s throat, dragging him upright, the blade poised against his neck.

  He gagged, choking. The rifleman froze, eyes wide.

  “What the fuck,” I growled, my voice metallic through the mask, “did I say?”

  The man stammered. I cut him off, voice rising, cold and sharp.

  “I said if someone entered - Halrigg dies. You’ve got five seconds.”

  Halrigg clawed weakly at my arm, wheezing. “Put it down,” he rasped toward the man. “Put it down-!”

  But the man’s panic made him deaf. His finger twitched against the trigger, hesitation and fear fighting for control.

  My eyes flared red under the mask as I saw a premonition of the man firing the gun.

  I didn’t wait.

  One pull.

  The gun’s muffled crack filled the room.

  The bullet punched through the man’s knee. He screamed, collapsing, the rifle clattering against the floor. Blood pooled fast.

  Halrigg shouted hoarsely, struggling in my grip. “Stop! Please! He’s just - he’s just a worker!”

  “Then answer me, before the city guard get here and see you have an illegal firearm,” I said, voice cold enough to freeze the air. “Will you work with us? Yes or no.”

  He grimaced, breath rasping through his teeth. “Y-yes.”

  I held him there for another heartbeat - long enough for the terror to settle. Then I released him, stepping back.

  I blinked.

  The world folded.

  Shadows twisted - and in the next instant, I stood again on the balcony, the night air cutting through the silence.

  “Good,” I said quietly. “Because if you go back on your word, this city will burn. And you’ll be remembered as the one who threw the torch.”

  Inside, Halrigg gasped for breath on the floor, staring at me with wide, shocked eyes.

  When our gazes met, he managed a strangled laugh. “How… terrifying,” he whispered.

  I tilted my head, just enough for him to see the faint shimmer of red light beneath the mask. Then the shadows swallowed me whole.

  And I was gone.