The dressing room was thick with the scent of sweat and incense, the low hum of muffled voices from the main hall a distant backdrop to the scene unfolding here. Nyxie's breath caught as she pressed herself against the wall, eyes fixed on the tall, dark figure of the Black Cloak psyad looming over the two cowering maenad mothers. His robes hung heavy, shadow pooling beneath his hood, hiding his face in blackness save for the sharp glint of his jaw, set hard and unmoving. The mageia dancing in his palms painted his silhouette in flickers of blue light, casting ghostly shadows against the velvet-draped walls. He stood like a statue carved from the empire's cruelty, unmoved by the mothers' trembling forms, their bodies curled protectively around the fragile bundles in their arms.

  "Unregistered offspring," he said, voice clinical. "Violation of imperial law. They are to be processed."

  One mother clutched her infant tighter, her fur bristling, eyes wild. The other trembled, whispering soft comfort to the kitten nestled in her arms.

  "They’re just babies!" the braver mother hissed. "Leave us be!"

  The psyad barely glanced at her. "Compliance is mandatory."

  She didn’t comply.

  With a cry more beast than maenad, she lunged, claws slashing toward his face. His mageia flared, a pulse of electric force blasting her back across the room. She crumpled into a rack of gowns, twitching as smoke rose from her fur.

  The other mother bolted, kit clutched to her chest, tearing through the curtain into the main hall.

  Kallisto stepped forward, satin rustling, mageia glimmering faint at her fingertips. "You’ll not take them."

  The psyad soldier turned, smirking. With a flick of his hand, a wave of force rippled outward, rattling lanterns, sending silks and scarves fluttering. The air itself seemed to shudder.

  "Stay your hand," he murmured. "I am an agent of the Black Cloaks. You know what happens to those who interfere with imperial affairs."

  Kallisto’s mageia guttered out. She stood rigid, lips pressed thin, eyes burning.

  Nyxie felt her claws dig into her palms, teeth baring. She took a step forward, but Sempir’s hand caught her wrist.

  "No," he hissed. "Touch him, you fry slow. Not quick death—painful."

  She glared at him, her body trembling, but the Black Cloak's mageia crackled louder, a warning. He moved with unsettling calm, stooping low to seize the bawling kitten from the floor. His gloved hand wrapped around the tiny bundle like he was lifting a scrap of discarded cloth, holding it aloft with all the detached care of someone inspecting livestock. The kitten wailed, limbs flailing, but the psyad only turned it slightly, examining it as though it were an object, not a living thing.

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  "Empire doesn’t take what they won’t use," Shale muttered, his voice bitter.

  From the hall came the faint sound of beads clattering. The escaped mother returned, breathless, fury in her eyes. Behind her strode Faedra Blackvine and five Glaives, blades bared and pistols cocked, faces set.

  Faedra planted her staff hard against the floor. "Let them go."

  The psyad laughed softly, the sound echoing through the cramped room. "Imperial jurisdiction. State business."

  Faedra’s eyes narrowed. "Why the kittens? Why take them?"

  The psyad smirked. "You wouldn’t understand empire business."

  He turned, dropping the kitten onto a cushion, more sack than child in his handling. Kallisto scrambled to scoop it up and shield it from the inevitable violence.

  Mageia flared bright in the Black Cloak's hands, ready to fight.

  Faedra closed her eyes and began to chant. The floor creaked. From the shadows, from the rafters, from beneath the floorboards, the rats came.

  Hundreds of them.

  Their bodies writhed in waves, their eyes gleaming in the flickering light. They poured toward the psyad, chittering, claws scraping wood, teeth bared.

  The psyad’s mageia erupted in a blast of flame, incinerating the first wave of rats. But they kept coming.

  Sempir and Shale backed away, Nyxie pressing close, the stench of fur and blood growing thick. The psyad blasted left and right, lightning crackling, sending bodies smoking and twitching.

  But the tide did not stop.

  Rats clambered up his boots, scaling his legs, biting, tearing. The psyad howled, his spells sputtering as the swarm smothered him. He staggered, slamming his back into the wall, rats clinging, burrowing into his robes.

  A final burst of flame seared dozens, but the weight of the swarm pulled him down. His screams turned to gurgles, mageia flickering out. Flesh tore. Bones cracked.

  Then silence, save for the wet gnawing of teeth.

  When the rats scattered, nothing remained but a heap of bloodied robes and gnawed bone.

  Faedra stepped forward, retrieving the kittens, cradling them gently before handing them back. Only one mother remained to receive them, her arms trembling as she gathered both kits close. The other mother lay motionless against the wall, her fur still faintly smoldering, eyes fixed and unblinking. The living mother wept silently, her tears falling on both little bodies, knowing she now bore the weight of two lives. Faedra's expression remained hard as stone, but even she could not hide the flicker of sorrow in her eyes.

  Sempir wiped his brow, his voice rough. "Holy shit. You kill Black Cloak. Is war now, you know."

  Shale stared at the remains, his jaw tight. "It always was."

  Nyxie clutched her arms around herself, watching the mothers cradle their kits, their bodies shaking but their eyes fierce.

  She felt something shift inside her. The empire didn’t just rule with laws and mageia. It ruled with secrets, with cruelty buried beneath fine robes and soft words. Not even babies were safe from Phiniaster's reign of terror.

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