The world had narrowed to the sound of boots and breath.

  I sprinted down the hall, shadows rippling in my wake. The three assassins were already at Arken’s door - two pushing through, one lingering behind, knife raised, probably waiting for me to reach him.

  I didn't let it get to that.

  The light in my eyes flared red under the mask, hidden and out of sight. The air thickened - time stretched. I threw the knife.

  It sang once, cutting clean through the dark, and buried itself in his throat before he could even react.

  The man staggered, gurgling as blood spilled between his fingers.

  After his body hit the floor, I grabbed the blade from his throat- ripping it free with a twist, kicking the door open, and stepping into hell.

  Screams.

  Blood.

  The soft, delicate music from the theater below still played, absurdly calm against the chaos inside.

  Arken was backed against the railing of the booth, eyes wide, as two of his men fought desperately against the attackers. One had already gone down - his throat opened with a flick of steel. The other barely held on, steel clashing against steel in the dim candlelight.

  I moved.

  The knife left my hand again - silent, perfect.

  It caught the nearest killer clean in the back.

  He dropped, twitching.

  But the other was faster.

  Before I could react, his victim was already dead. Charlotte's Eyes flared - showing the knife plunging into my neck. I twisted, barely fast enough. The blade missed my throat, tearing into my shoulder instead

  Pain exploded through my arm, bright and immediate. I grunted, twisting away before the knife could find my neck as well. He pressed forward, relentless, footwork sharp and disciplined. Trained. Professional.

  We collided again and again, the room crashing around us. Furniture splintered, glass shattered, and my breath came in short, ragged bursts.

  Every movement was measured, merciless.

  Every strike meant to kill.

  He was good - better than me, in all honesty. My body screamed under the pressure, my arm half-dead, but something else was building underneath the pain.

  A pulse.

  Heat flared behind my eyes. The world turned crimson - Charlotte's sight awakening deeper under the pain, sharper than before.

  Divine energy coursed through me, setting every nerve on fire. My body felt lighter, sharper. His next swing missed by a breath. I caught his wrist mid-strike and drove my knee into his ribs.

  He wheezed.

  I followed through - twisting, planting my foot into his chest.

  The kick landed like a cannon.

  The man flew back - his body slammed into the far wall, hard enough to crack plaster.

  For a moment, I just stared at him, chest heaving.

  The power that had flared through me flickered and died, leaving behind a hollow ache and a small buzz in the back of my skull.

  I turned.

  Arken was still frozen against the railing, pale, trembling. His eyes darted between me and the broken body on the wall. Then his expression changed.

  Fear and shock.

  Not fear of me - something else.

  His gaze shifted behind me.

  I followed it.

  The assassin I’d kicked was barely conscious, slumped against the wall - but his hand was moving. Slowly. Shaking. Reaching into his coat.

  Then I saw it.

  A grenade.

  Pin half-pulled.

  A single twitch away from detonation.

  Shit.

  There wasn’t time to think, nor did I have a choice. The blast radius would likely kill me, and Arken wouldn’t even have a chance to scream.

  I ran.

  Arken’s eyes widened as I slammed into him - both of us crashing through the booth railing. The explosion went off mid-air.

  Heat and smoke swallowed the world.

  Please work-!

  The world folded.

  For a heartbeat, there was nothing - only darkness and pressure. Then gravity caught us again.

  We hit the marble floor below, hard but alive. My lungs burned, my shoulder throbbed, but we were breathing.

  Seems I can blink with other people.

  I looked down.

  Arken’s mask was cracked.

  His expression - shock, confusion, horror.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I groaned, dragging him up.

  I have to fully commit to the Inquisitor identity now. But since I don't have the Inquisitor mask, it also means I can't speak...

  Then the second explosion hit.

  This one from the opposite side of the theater.

  Then another.

  And another.

  Each one blooming into thunder - each booth igniting into flame and smoke. The orchestra below froze mid-note. Screams rippled through the hall as chandeliers swung wildly from the shockwaves.

  I turned toward the upper level. The boxes were burning - gold and red fire licking through the curtains like open mouths.

  Arken stared, whispering names I couldn’t hear. Names that made his voice tremble.

  Then, faintly, I caught the last one.

  “My faction… this must be an assassination attempt on us... but by wh-”

  Suddenly, his eyes widened in horror.

  His knees buckled.

  I made sure to note his reaction down.

  A face can say a thousand words. I'm sure the Regent would love to know this later.

  Smoke poured from the burning booths above as screams rippled through the hall. Chandeliers swayed wildly overhead, their crystal light scattering across faces twisted in panic.

  Flames crawled up the curtains like hungry tongues.

  As the fire raged, the thought didn't allude me.

  The thought that if these assassins were this coordinated - that they would most likely have contingency plans.

  I turned toward the crowd, heart pounding. I couldn’t speak. Especially not with half the nobility here.

  So I raised both hands, sharp and deliberate as I pointed towards the door. A silent command.

  Leave.

  For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then Arken understood.

  “Everyone out!” he shouted, voice slicing through the noise like a whip. “Now!”

  The panic broke.

  The hall erupted into motion.

  Dozens - hundreds - of nobles surged toward the exits in one sweeping tide of silk and terror. Masks fell, trampled underfoot. Shoes snapped on marble. Someone screamed 'Inquisitor!' and the panic doubled, tripled, became a living thing trying to consume itself.

  But they couldn't look away from the blade.

  Shadow and smoke, whispering like wind through graves. An unholy thing made manifest.

  The crowd split around us instinctively - a ring of empty space, as if the marble itself recoiled.

  Arken pushed into the flow, shouting over his shoulder. “You - guard me!”

  I nodded once.

  We ran with the crowd, feet pounding the marble. My eyes burned faintly beneath the mask, red light bleeding through the lenses as my vision shifted. The world fractured into focus - every tremor, every heartbeat, every twitch of muscle laid bare.

  The crowd became a sea, every current clear. My eyes still bleeding red caught every minute detail - nothing within the sea alluded my eyes.

  And within the sea, ten dark shapes moved against the tide - cutting toward us with purpose.

  Found you.

  I caught Arken’s arm, stopping him mid-stride.

  He turned, furious. “What are you-”

  I pressed the bloodied knife into his hand.

  He stared down at it, then at me. “And what will you use?”

  I crouched, pulling off one boot. A small sheath clicked loose from the inside, a dull gray gem glinting at its base. I slid it free and straightened as I put my shoe back on.

  Maybe next time, I should request a tailor made suit from the Inquisition.

  Arken’s eyes went wide. His breath hitched. “You - you're an… Inquisitor?”

  He didn’t even try to hide the fear in his voice.

  I ignored him. Shadow energy surged through my arm, pulsing into the hilt. The gem drank it greedily - black veins spreading across the metal like cracks in glass. Then it unfurled.

  A blade of shadow and smoke hissed into existence, whispering like wind through dead trees.

  The nearest nobles saw it - and the sea split.

  The screaming crowd parted instinctively around us, forming a ring of empty marble and fear. We moved through it like ghosts, the two of us alone in a storm of bodies.

  It was biblical, almost.

  The parting of the damned.

  Only the music refused to stop.

  The piano still played - louder now, desperate and violent, echoing through the collapsing theater. The violin was gone now, only leaving the lonely piano in its wake. This piece was distinctively different - a crescendo born from the first two pieces.

  But to what end, I could not tell.

  In this momentary calm, I had only noticed now - that the piano had never stopped playing.

  The blind girl.

  I shook my head, ignoring the thought.

  Surely she isn’t deaf too… right?

  Before I could think any further, the first assassin broke through the wall of people.

  He lunged.

  I met him halfway.

  The shadow blade tore through his chest like silk - his body splitting in half. I spun, the motion fluid, cutting down another before his grenade hand could twitch.

  One, two, three - gone.

  My shadows clung to them, consuming them slowly like fire to wood.

  The fourth tried to slip between fleeing nobles. I blinked, appearing behind him, driving my knee into his spine and cutting him clean through.

  The crowd’s tide finally broke against the great doors as the last survivors escaped. Silence crashed down in their wake - heavy, absolute.

  Only six remained.

  Arken and I stood at the center of an empty hall of smoke and ruin, surrounded by men in masks and knives.

  I motioned for Arken to stay behind me.

  The first two came fast.

  They died faster.

  Steel hissed through the air as I turned to block the next pair - my shoulder screaming with every motion as I fought with one arm. One blade grazed my ribs, another slipped under my guard, slicing deep. Pain exploded white-hot.

  I countered - ducked low, swept a leg, stabbed upward. One down.

  The other closed in on Arken.

  I moved.

  Faster than thought.

  My blade pierced his spine just as his dagger grazed Arken’s sleeve. The man dropped, choking.

  But not dead.

  He grinned through blood-slick teeth, hand trembling as he pulled something from his belt.

  "Ko- no- kuso- tarre-."

  The pin clicked.

  Fuck off.

  There was no time to run.

  I wrapped an arm around Arken and blinked.

  The world snapped sideways.

  The explosion went off mid-motion - the heat meeting my back for just a moment before reality shifted. We reappeared outside, behind a carriage, the blast chasing us with a roar of shattered glass.

  I hit the cobblestones hard, rolling onto my back. Smoke filled my lungs, my body screaming in a dozen places.

  Arken landed beside me, unscathed. His mask cracked, eyes wide, chest heaving.

  I tried to push myself up. Failed.

  Arken stared at me for a long moment, torn between gratitude and terror. Then his expression hardened.

  Bootsteps thundered nearby - guards flooding the courtyard, weapons drawn, shouting for survivors.

  Arken’s eyes lit up.

  A new kind of calculation behind them.

  He turned to the nearest soldier. “That man - arrest him! He’s one of them!”

  I barely had time to curse before they surged toward me.

  I blinked.

  The world shattered into black.

  When I came to, I was on a rooftop overlooking the burning estate. The city stretched below, a haze of smoke and alarm bells.

  I lay on my back, chest heaving, shoulder bleeding freely through torn fabric. I could barely breathe as I wheezed - coughing and sputtering - the pain of my body contrasting the dopamine rush in my brain. The last blink had covered half a kilometre at least - and it hadn't come easy.

  “Holy shit,” I laughed loudly for a moment, uncontrollable, as I threw my mask off. With my free sleeve from my working arm, I wiped my mouth - revealing a deep red stain.

  Ah, not good.

  The night was quiet now, a peace I had solely missed.

  As I lay down for a bit, I realised that Arken did have ways to identify me.

  Specifically, my injuries.

  I need to find Mary.

  As I slowly got up, my body could barely hold itself as I struggled to stand. In the distance, I could see the white yarrow swaying in the wind, as black dots of people ran across it.

  Though it didn’t bother me, something lingered - a faint, stubborn regret.

  I smiled through the pain, my mind still humming with its own static.

  “I wonder what the third song was called?” I murmured.

  A small regret, that I never heard the end of something so beautiful.