A new day dawned—but something felt different.

  Ashar moved with quiet urgency, checking the cupboards for food, then crouching beside the bed to count the credits hidden beneath the floor panel. Jason, eating porridge at the table, watched with furrowed brows.

  Ashar stood, his expression unreadable. “Come with me this morning. I’ve got errands to run.”

  They walked through the marketplace. Jason noticed Friederick working across the square and raised a hand to wave—but Ashar didn’t stop. His stride was too fast, too focused. Friederick didn’t notice them pass.

  At the Whispering Night, Ashar nodded to a few of the girls inside. Annabella emerged from a side door. She’d been running the place since Gabriella and the old owner had disappeared.

  “I need your help tonight,” Ashar said lowly. “Something big is coming.”

  Annabella raised a brow. “What are you talking about?”

  “There’s a high-priority shipment coming in. They told me not to log anything on the manifest. It has to be tonight.”

  “You think we can just jump because you say so? I’m already short-staffed, and now you want more of my girls off the floor?”

  “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t serious.”

  Annabella shook her head. “Ashar, we can’t.”

  Ashar’s frustration simmered. He looked around and saw only wary, guarded expressions from the girls. The trust and camaraderie that once filled this place were gone—drained away since the guards had grown bolder. Since Gabriella left.

  He turned without another word and left with Jason trailing behind. Jason glanced back and gave a small nod. Some of the girls managed a sad smile in return.

  Ashar stormed through the marketplace and knocked on Friederick’s door.

  “I need you to watch him tonight,” he said plainly.

  Friederick raised an eyebrow. “Again?... Wait—tonight?!”

  There was only one reason Ashar would say that. Something dangerous. And at his age, it would be worse than before.

  “If you’re that desperate, I can scrape together some credits from the trinkets I’ve sold—”

  “You can’t afford that,” Ashar cut in. “Besides, I’m using one of your trinkets tonight. You’ll get your share. Just... keep him safe.”

  Friederick studied his old friend’s face. In it, he saw fear and finality.

  “I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”

  Ashar didn’t reply.

  “Fine. I’ll look after him.”

  Ashar turned to Jason. “I’ve got work soon. You’ll have to eat alone. After dinner, stay here with Friederick until I get back.”

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  Jason nodded, but inside, unease grew. He could see it—the tightness in Ashar’s mouth, the flickers of fear in his eyes. The same micro-signals Ashar had taught him to read in others.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” Ashar said, his voice softer now. He gave a farewell nod to Friederick and left.

  Jason watched him disappear, then followed quietly until the checkpoint to the town center came into view. This time, there were more guards. He stopped. Couldn’t follow further.

  He turned back and went home, tidying the small house to stay busy. He made himself dinner and even took out the old sewing kit. Ashar liked sewing. Maybe he’d like it too.

  When the sky dimmed, Jason headed to Friederick’s home. It was quieter than usual, but only for a moment. Then Friederick laid Jason’s half-finished device on the table.

  “It’s almost there,” he muttered.

  As he twisted the gears, the trinket sputtered, clanked, then did nothing for a second or so. Suddenly, the axle from the piston popped out.

  “If this is for an automatic door, you’ll be standing there for hours,” Friederick joked.

  Jason laughed lightly. “It’s probably just dust in the gears.”

  The night dragged on. Jason grew more restless by the hour.

  “Don’t worry,” Friederick said, though uncertainty lingered in his voice. “He’s done this before.”

  Then, an alarm blared in the distance. Red lights cut through the night sky. Jason and Friederick rushed to the window. Guards streamed toward the center of town, followed by heavier footsteps.

  A figure stumbled out of the alley. Ashar. Breathless. Eyes wild.

  He clutched something hidden beneath his jacket. It glowed faintly—an unnatural aquatic light.

  “What have you done?!” Friederick hissed.

  Ashar didn’t answer. “Jason, get inside. Hide. I’ll come back for you later.”

  He ran off toward home. Friederick yanked Jason inside and shut every door and window. They crouched near the corner window, keeping low.

  More guards marched by. Some were drunk. Others alert. They weren’t searching—just moving. Sprinting toward the checkpoint.

  Hours passed. No word. No return. The alarms kept wailing.

  Then came silence.

  The morning light crept across the streets, painting them in a pale haze. The town felt... abandoned. Hollow.

  Jason had dozed for half an hour when sudden shouting jolted him awake.

  Rhythmic footsteps echoed outside. Soldiers.

  He peeked from the window behind Friederick. Not guards—soldiers in full white, armor plated. And at their head, a man in a military cap and segmented pauldrons—his gait sharp, commanding.

  “Lieutenant,” Friederick whispered grimly.

  And on their shoulders: the insignia of Lord Veyrn.

  More soldiers moved into position around the market. Some entered the Whispering Night. Others stood in formation.

  Jason's heart beat faster. The soldiers moved with purpose, surrounding the marketplace. Nearby, two guards muttered to each other, unaware of how close their voices carried.

  “Is this really happening?” one asked under his breath.

  “He’s been planning something,” the other replied, voice hushed. “Just needed a reason.”

  “I thought this was just about a thief.”

  The second shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Now he’s got the greenlight.”

  “What about the Empire?”

  “Veyrn’s done worse before—got demoted for it, sure. Should’ve been executed. His brother kept him out of a noose. Pulls weight from that big prison complex off-world.”

  “Right. He’s not a Victoria Nobili, is he?”

  “No, but—”

  A shadow passed over them. They froze.

  Lieutenant Karn Vesht stopped, gaze slicing into them like glass.

  “…Quiet,” he said, voice smooth but cold.

  They snapped straight, heads low.

  Vesht continued walking, as if nothing had happened. His pace was unhurried, his posture relaxed—like a man with nothing to fear.

  Then the lieutenant stepped forward into the clearing.

  He raised his voice—not shouting, but speaking clearly, with an almost comforting tone.

  “Citizens of Ironwood,” he began. “I know this is unexpected. And I’m truly sorry it has come to this.”

  His voice was low, calm—almost sympathetic.

  “Last night, something of great importance was taken from one of our valued partners. A crystal. Rare. Dangerous. It’s been traced to your district.”

  He took a slow step forward, hands behind his back.

  “We only want what was stolen returned. Quietly.”

  He gestured.

  Two soldiers dragged out two of the girls from the Whispering Night. They were forced to kneel at the center of the square. Their eyes were wide. Confused. Silent.

  Vesht kept speaking, still soft. Still polite.

  “No harm needs to come to anyone else.”

  Then, he turned slightly—his eyes scanning the surrounding buildings, the darkened windows.

  A faint smile touched the edge of his lips.

  “To the one who stole the crystal… please come forward.”