Rain hammered the stone path, shattering into fragments across the old cobblestones. A boot pressed into a puddle, the water parting cleanly around it, repelled as though by an invisible barrier.

  Sebastian continued walking, his dark coat untouched by the rain. Beside him, Astraea moved, the downpour sliding off her lacquer-black vestments without leaving a mark.

  "Your ward is… incomplete," she observed, crimson eyes following the way the rain parted around them. The three Veilbound trailed behind them, their staffs pulsing with faint light, the source of the protective spell. "The stones remain wet. Our feet must still endure this tedium."

  "A minor inconvenience," Sebastian said, stepping straight into the puddle, watching the ripples spread. "Besides… it breaks the monotony."

  A faint “tch” shaped itself at Astraea’s lips, a tiny sound of amusement.

  The Baron's manor rose ahead through the storm, its damaged eastern wing a black wound against the gray sky. The gate emerged from the rain, two guards huddled beneath it, trying to stay dry.

  One guard, caught by surprise, straightened as they approached, squinting through the downpour. "Oi! Where’d you lot come from?" He paused, water dripping from his helmet. "Identify yourselves!"

  "We’re here on matters related to the fires. Dalen will want to hear what we’ve learned," Sebastian said smoothly.

  The guard's grip tightened on his sword. "And them behind you—who in the storm are they?"

  Astraea’s gaze settled on him. Her lethal eyes gleamed in the rain-darkened night, and for a moment the falling droplets before her seemed tinted red, as though her stare illuminated the storm itself.

  "How warm you are," she breathed. She let her mouth shift just enough for one fang to catch her lip, a small, deliberate touch. "Even through all this cold water. I can hear your pulse quickening."

  The guard blinked. “What did you say?”

  “Astraea.” Sebastian’s voice was quiet but firm. “There’s no need.”

  She inclined her head, still watching the guard's jugular. "No need? How disappointing."

  Thunder cracked overhead. The guards glanced at each other, uncertainty tightening their grips.

  Then came hoofbeats, fast and splashing through puddles, drawing closer.

  A horse burst through the rain. Dalen hauled it to a sharp stop, Thena held firm behind him in the saddle despite her struggles.

  "Let me go!" Thena twisted against his grip, dark hair plastered to her face. "You can’t do this! My father will—the Circle will hear about this! You’re making a mistake!"

  Sebastian’s eyes lingered on her. The younger one from the inn. The one who had clung to the scholar in the alley. Protective. His eyes slid to Dalen, then back to the girl, the implications assembling neatly in his mind. A daughter perhaps. And Dalen had already captured her. A thin, satisfied smile curved his mouth. Leverage.

  The guards straightened immediately. "Captain!" One gestured toward Sebastian and Astraea. “These ones just appeared out of the rain.”

  “Also, Captain… some old crow came through earlier. Gave a name like Adel—Adelai—Adel-somethin’. Had the Circle’s sigil on her cloak. Baron took her in.”

  Dalen's expression darkened. "You let her through?"

  "She had the Circle's insignia!" The guard's voice cracked. "Following rules and all, Captain. You know we can't refuse—"

  "The Circle." Dalen's fingers drummed once against his sword pommel.

  His stare swept over the five figures standing perfectly dry in the downpour. He took in their untouched clothing, the way rain bent around them, the predatory stillness in Astraea's stance.

  "Stop!" Thena twisted in his grip again, fighting to pull free. "You can't do this! This is kidnapping! The Circle will—"

  "Quiet," Dalen said curtly.

  His hand slipped from his sword hilt. Whatever he’d planned to say to the strangers died in his throat as he met Sebastian’s gaze.

  "Open the gate," Sebastian said softly.

  "Captain?"

  "You heard me."

  Iron groaned. The gate swung inward.

  Dalen rode through, and Sebastian followed, crossing into the courtyard beneath fading rain. At its center, the ancient tree stood beneath the storm, its branches dark and heavy with water.

  Thena struggled one last time in his grip. "You cannot do this! You have no right—"

  "Enough," Dalen said quietly, the word carrying weight that silenced her protest.

  Sebastian stopped.

  His eyes fixed on the tree, studying it with genuine interest. He walked toward it while the others watched.

  "Fascinating," he murmured. "Do you know trees can live for millennia?" His hand touched the bark. "They see everything. Hold secrets in their rings, their roots. If one knows how to look… and listen."

  "It's just a tree," Dalen said, dismounting. He reached up to pull Thena down.

  "I can get down by myself," she snapped, trying to twist away.

  But Dalen's hands closed around her waist, lifting her down anyway. "Not a chance."

  Her boots hit the cobblestones and she immediately stepped back, putting distance between them. "You're going to regret this."

  "Has it?" Sebastian's gaze lifted to the branches, ignoring the mortals. "Tell me—has it always been barren?"

  Dalen frowned, glancing at the tree. "Always. Never seen it bloom in—"

  He stopped.

  Among the dark, rain-slicked branches, something impossible caught the lamplights.

  Leafbuds. Small, delicate.

  And red.

  Deep, viscous red, glistening like drops of fresh blood pushing through the dark bark. They weren't just colored like blood; they looked wet, ready to drip onto the stones below.

  "That's..." Dalen stepped closer, staring. "That's not possible. This tree has never—in all the records, all the years—"

  “Never?” Sebastian’s smile was faint, almost knowing. “Perhaps… it was simply waiting for the proper moment.”

  Thena had gone still, her amber eyes wide behind rain-spotted spectacles, staring at the impossible sight.

  Astraea laughed, soft and breathy. Her hand drifted to the hilt of the Crescent Twins. "How poetic. Even the vegetation tastes the change."

  Her eyes gleamed as she looked at the red leafbuds, then at Sebastian. "I'm… dying to meet whatever caused this," she breathed, a small giggle slipping through. "Tell me we're not waiting much longer?"

  "Patience," Sebastian said quietly.

  Lightning flashed, illuminating the tree in stark relief for a single heartbeat. Thunder followed, rolling across the manor.

  Then, beneath the thunder, a second sound rippled through the earth. A sharp crack followed by a deeper, rolling shudder—nothing like thunder at all.

  Sebastian’s attention lifted toward the distant ruins, puzzled. The air felt disturbed, as though something had torn through it too quickly to see.

  Astraea heard it too. Her focus sharpened, excitement glinting in her eyes. "How… violent," she breathed, delighted.

  Dalen, unaware of the sound that slipped beyond ordinary hearing, tore his view from the tree. His hand found Thena’s arm, firm but not rough, and guided her toward the manor entrance.

  “I’m done standing out here in the rain. Move. We’re going inside.”

  Sebastian cast one last lingering look at the ancient tree, its first blood-red leafbuds trembling in the dying stormwind, then followed them.

  They stepped through the manor’s entrance and turned right into the main corridor. The damage from the morning’s fire was impossible to miss: walls blackened with soot, the acrid stench of char still clinging to the air, an entire section blocked off where the structure had grown unstable.

  "Your handiwork?" Astraea asked softly, glancing at the burnt supports.

  Dalen said nothing as he guided Thena forward, his expression hardening.

  The dining hall doors stood ahead, voices carrying through: one refined and measured, the other rough with anger.

  "—my men will handle this," the Baron's voice boomed. "Not you, and your bloody Circle."

  "Such matters require delicate investigation." Adelaide's tone remained smooth, unruffled. "The Grand Athenaeum has both the expertise and the authority—"

  "Authority?" A bitter laugh. "You scholars love that word, don’t you? Everythin’s your authority until somethin’ goes wrong. Then suddenly it's my problem."

  A pause, then the Baron's voice dropped, carrying an edge of accusation. "And what about that chamber beneath my dungeons, eh? Had my men down there investigatin’ it. You knew about it, didn’t you?"

  Silence.

  "Of course you did," the Baron went on bitterly. "The Circle always knows. Always keepin’ things from me, actin’ like I ain’t got a right to know what’s under my own bloody manor."

  "That chamber," Adelaide said coolly, "is not your concern."

  "Not my—" The Baron's voice cracked with fury. "It's beneath my manor! Under my feet! How in the bloody hell is it not my concern?"

  "Because you lack the knowledge to comprehend what lies there," Adelaide said, her voice soft with contempt. "And the wisdom to keep your distance."

  Dalen pushed the doors open.

  The dining hall stretched before them. At the far end, Baron Arvane stood red-faced, his gold chain askew. Across from him, Adelaide Ashental sat with perfect posture, her teal cloak draped elegantly and her emerald jewelry catching the light.

  “Dalen!” The Baron turned. “About bloody time. Did you—”

  His words died as the procession entered. First came Dalen, guiding Thena with a firm grip. Then Sebastian and Astraea, still perfectly dry despite the storm outside. And finally, the three Veilbound, silent as shadows.

  Adelaide’s composure slipped for the briefest moment. Her fingers went still on the table’s edge, recognition lighting her eyes. She understood exactly what had walked into the room.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “The shadows reveal themselves,” she said quietly.

  Sebastian stepped forward and inclined his head. "Forgive the interruption. I couldn't help but overhear." His gaze shifted between the Baron and Adelaide. "You're speaking of the ruins. The investigation." A faint smile curved his lips. "Perhaps we may be of assistance."

  "Who in the bloody—" the Baron started.

  "Sebastian." He gestured to Astraea. "My companion. We're here to help resolve this... unfortunate situation."

  His attention slid to Thena, meeting her eyes as she stood rigid beside Dalen. "And this young woman is…?"

  "None of your—" Thena started, then caught herself. Her amber eyes flickered with defiance behind her spectacles. "My father is Aldric. Professor at the Athenaeum."

  "Ah." Sebastian's expression grew thoughtful. "And he's among the missing, I presume?"

  Thena stiffened, but she nodded.

  "The fugitives responsible for destroying your camp," Sebastian continued, addressing the Baron now, "will follow us, given proper motivation."

  He let the implication hang.

  Adelaide rose slowly, her movements controlled, though her pulse betrayed her fear. "You serve—"

  "I serve clarity," Sebastian interrupted smoothly. "The Baron deserves answers. The Circle seeks resolution. I believe we can provide both."

  He lifted his hand in an unhurried motion, a casual gesture that drew every eye. His fingers drifted before his face, pausing just beneath his eyes for a heartbeat to make certain all attention was on him.

  His crimson irises darkened, catching the candlelight in an unnatural shimmer. A heavy, physical weight settled over the room, pressing against their temples like a headache taking root.

  "And time is short," Sebastian said, his voice layered with a quiet, irresistible command. "The storm above is already calming—we have but moments before it passes entirely."

  The Baron blinked slowly, his anger seeming to ebb, drained away by the sheer presence in the room. "You... think you can find them? These murderers?"

  "Your men are competent, I'm sure," Sebastian said, his voice carrying that same gentle weight. "But this requires... specialized expertise."

  Astraea stood perfectly still beside him, her vision drifting across the room with lazy interest before settling on Adelaide. The look said everything: how tedious these mortal politics were, and how she wanted nothing more than to face the source of the blood’s power.

  "What other information might help?" Sebastian asked, his tone conversational, though the psychic pressure remained. "Any details could prove valuable."

  Dalen’s fingers drummed once against his pommel, then stilled. “Been tracking reports for weeks. Animals drained of blood….” He paused. “The survivors I found at the ruins said shadows moved through the camp. Moving shadows, then fire. That’s what destroyed everything.”

  Sebastian’s smile deepened, something clicking neatly into place. “Shadows. How… illuminating.”

  “You believe them?” The Baron asked, his earlier bite fading into curiosity.

  “I believe evidence seldom lies,” Sebastian said. "Shadows do not destroy without a caster. And patterns speak truth."

  Adelaide sat forward, posture rigid. “What are you implying—”

  “I imply nothing,” Sebastian said. “Merely that the Baron’s lands have attracted attention. The kind that requires immediate response.” He turned to Dalen. “Your men know the terrain. We provide the methods. A joint effort benefits everyone.”

  “I must bring this before the Circle,” Adelaide said, though a hint of uncertainty edged her tone.

  "Fuck your—" the Baron started, then paused, blinking as if forgetting why he was shouting. "That is… perhaps we can overlook our little dust-up. Just this once."

  Adelaide folded her arms neatly, posture sharpening. “The Circle will require documentation. A full report must be submitted.”

  "Of course," Sebastian agreed easily. "Transparency serves everyone's interests."

  Dalen studied him for a long moment. “When?”

  “Now.” Sebastian’s gaze shifted to the windows, the storm outside dwindling to its final drops. “While the trail remains fresh. The moon sits high above the clouds.”

  “In this weather, and at the crack of dawn?” The Baron sounded more unsure than incredulous.

  “Some things are far easier to track in darkness. Wouldn’t you agree, Captain?”

  Dalen’s expression darkened, a realization striking him. “Wait. The gate—the old gate between the valley and the ruins. My men reported it destroyed. Completely severed, along with…” His hand moved to his sword. “Two of my soldiers. Dead.”

  Astraea let out a soft, breathy giggle, the sound too musical, too delighted for the moment, terrible in its sweetness.

  Sebastian’s hand rose again, that same subtle gesture instantly drawing attention. “A tragedy,” he said, his voice carrying a gentle weight. “We arrived after the destruction, I’m afraid. We witnessed only the aftermath.” His eyes held Dalen’s. “Whatever killed your men had already moved on. Perhaps the same shadows your survivors described?”

  Dalen’s fingers tapped his pommel before relaxing. His expression softened, suspicion slipping away. “Shadows. Of course.”

  “Such violence,” Sebastian added, voice velvet-smooth. “All the more reason to act together. Before more lives vanish into the dark.”

  Dalen nodded slowly, the moment passing. "Right. My men can be ready in minutes."

  “Excellent.” Sebastian looked to Adelaide, the faintest smile returning. “Unless the representative of the Circle has any objection?”

  Adelaide’s arms, once crossed, loosened as she breathed out. Her stare drifted toward the window where the storm dimmed. “I will… observe. Nothing more.”

  "Then we have an accord." Sebastian inclined his head. "Shall we begin?"

  The clouds were tearing open above them, unveiling scattered patches of nebula-lit sky. The storm had passed, exactly as Sebastian predicted, leaving the air crisp and new.

  “We’ll ride ahead,” Dalen said, already mounting his horse. He pulled Thena up behind him despite her protests. “My men know the fastest route.”

  The Baron hauled himself onto his mount with considerably less grace. “About bloody time we took action instead of talkin’.” His eyes cut toward Adelaide as he said it.

  Adelaide moved to her own horse with elegant precision, her teal cloak somehow remaining pristine despite the wet conditions.

  “Long as you don’t get in the way,” the Baron muttered.

  “Hm.” Adelaide’s look slid toward him, cold as winter. “We shall see who hinders whom.” Her eyes flicked briefly to the soldiers behind Dalen. They straightened almost imperceptibly, as if awaiting instruction.

  Sebastian stood perfectly still in the courtyard, watching the clock tower. “We’ll meet you there,” he said simply.

  Dalen frowned. “The ruins are—”

  "We know the way." Sebastian's smile was faint. His attention remained on the tower for a moment longer. "One question before you depart. The clock tower—it's been silent since we arrived. I had expected to hear it chime."

  Dalen followed his gaze upward, his expression darkening. "Fire this morning consumed whatever mechanism made the bell ring." A pause, then grudgingly: "Probably for the best. That damned sound was driving everyone mad lately anyway...."

  "How unfortunate," Sebastian said quietly, something thoughtful in his tone.

  The captain's fingers drummed once against his pommel, unsure what to make of the stranger's interest in a broken clock. He didn't linger on it. With a sharp command, he led the group through the gate. Hoofbeats echoed briefly in the courtyard before fading into the distance, following the winding road toward the Veilspine Range.

  The riders passed familiar landmarks: the Arlen River running high with storm water and fields turned to mud. Above them, the nebula shimmered faintly, its blue-gold light pulsing like fire caught in glass. The journey that had once taken Selene and Eldric a long stretch of daylight now passed in a blur of urgent motion.

  When they crested the last hill, the devastation yawned before them like a wound carved into the earth. The excavation camp was unrecognizable, nothing but ash, char, and ruin. Scaffolding lay twisted into blackened metal. The tents had been erased, reduced to scorched shadows on the ground.

  The Baron’s face went pale. “My mother’s mercy,” he breathed. The smell of burned flesh drifted on the wind, and he looked away, swallowing hard.

  “I’ll… I’ll go with my men,” he muttered, forcing steadiness he didn’t feel. Thena didn’t wait for permission. She swung down from behind Dalen before the horse had even stopped, boots slipping in the mud and ash as she surged forward.

  “Eldric! Selene!”

  She started forward, but Dalen's hand caught her arm. "Stay close. We don't know what—"

  "They're out there!" She yanked free. "I have to find them!"

  Adelaide dismounted, her eyes sweeping across the ruins with cold assessment, then shifted to the five figures materializing from the shadows.

  Sebastian advanced with Astraea at his side, the three Veilbound drifting behind them in perfect, soundless harmony. They passed through the debris without so much as shifting a grain of ash.

  Adelaide's expression remained composed, but something flickered in her eyes—recognition, perhaps, or calculation. She stepped forward. "I should accompany you," she said, addressing Sebastian directly. "The Circle must document whatever is found here."

  Sebastian inclined his head slightly. "As you wish."

  Astraea's crimson eyes slid toward Adelaide with lazy interest, but she said nothing.

  Dalen blinked, taken off guard by how quickly the dynamic had shifted. "How in the—" He cut himself off, his mouth pressing into a thin line as he tried to mask his surprise.

  "We'll... we'll search in sections," he said briskly, gesturing to his men a beat too quickly. The words came more from instinct than strategy, an unconscious need to keep distance between his soldiers and the five figures who had appeared out of nowhere. "Cover more ground that way."

  He cleared his throat, addressing Sebastian directly. "If you find any corpses, count them. Tag what you can. And if anything looks out of the ordinary—tracks, markings, anything—you regroup at the center of the camp. Understood?"

  "Agreed," Sebastian said. "We'll take the forest edge and work our way inward."

  The groups separated, spreading through the ruins from different angles. Sebastian, Astraea, the Veilbound, and Adelaide drifted toward the forest edge and the outer perimeter. Dalen and the Baron’s soldiers pushed into the inner camp, searching through ash and fallen scaffolds. Thena stayed with them, calling out names, her voice cracking with desperation.

  After a few measured steps, Adelaide spoke, her voice low enough that only they could hear.“I know what you are,” she murmured. “Shadows in borrowed flesh. The Crimson Kingdom does not wander without purpose.”

  “Your reports were… incomplete,” Sebastian said lightly. “We came to fill in the missing details.”

  He glanced at her, his eyes catching the faint moonlight. “These fires. The main campsite destroyed. Survivors. Rumors of something uncovered in the ruins. And Adelaide… if we discover the Circle withheld information about the Crown, you understand what that would mean. Not just for you.” He kept his eyes forward. “But for everyone in this valley.”

  Just ahead, Astraea halted as they reached the forest edge, her head tilting as her nostrils flared in a quiet, animal-like motion.

  “Mmm,” she breathed, a soft sound of recognition. “There it is.”

  “What?” Sebastian asked.

  “Decomposition.” Her crimson eyes gleamed. “And dried blood. The rain tried its best to wash it away, but…” Her lips curved into a thin smile. “Blood always leaves a signature.”

  She moved with purpose now, following the scent like a hunter stalking wounded prey. She led them to the forest’s edge, where blackened trees stood like burnt sentinels.

  There.

  A body lay crumpled against the tree. Male. Dark green coat with gold trim, though the fabric was torn and soaked through. Black hair matted with dried blood. The throat had been torn out—ragged meat exposed to the air.

  By fangs.

  Astraea crouched beside the body, studying the wounds with clinical fascination.

  “The coat,” Sebastian murmured. “And the black hair… This body is familiar.”

  “Identical,” Astraea agreed. She reached out, her gloved hand settling beneath the corpse’s jaw. With a gentle, almost tender motion, she tilted the head to one side, exposing the ruin of the neck.

  She murmured. “The same face as the one in the alley.” Her thumb brushed lightly along the jawline.

  A slow, pleased breath escaped her.

  “Such hunger,” she whispered.

  Only then did her eyes lift to meet Sebastian’s. “This is the real one, isn’t it?”

  Sebastian’s expression tightened. “If this is the true Aldric…”

  “Then what we saw in the alley was something wearing his shape.” Astraea’s excitement flickered through her voice. “A skin-changer. Or something new entirely.”

  She rose slowly, her eyes tracing a trail of devastation leading back toward the main camp. Craters in the earth, perfectly circular.

  “Look at this destruction,” she breathed. “I’ve never seen a Nightflare do this. This isn't burning; it's erasing.”

  Sebastian crouched beside the glassified earth. “That wasn’t a Nightflare wearing Aldric’s face. This must be something new… one of Carmilla’s designs.”

  “Something has changed,” Astraea murmured, her red eyes brightening with genuine delight. “Something wonderful and new.” She turned to the nearest Veilbound. “Take it.”

  The hooded figure hesitated. “My lady?”

  “The body,” Astraea said, her smile widening just enough to show the edge of a fang. “Of course.”

  She cast a glance toward the center of the camp, where Thena’s frantic shouts echoed. Her head tilted with an almost dreamy curiosity. “I can already taste how his daughter will react when she sees him.” Her voice softened into something disturbingly reverent. “The shock. The denial. That exquisite moment when reality breaks through.”

  A soft, breathy giggle slipped out. “I want to watch the suffering bloom across her face.”

  The Veilbound obeyed. It seized Aldric’s ankle and lifted the corpse one-handed, dragging it through the ash. The body’s arms trailed loosely, its head bumping against stone and debris. The smell of rot and wet death followed it.

  They turned and followed the line of craters back toward the main camp.

  Near the Grand Entrance, Thena moved frantically through the ruins. “Eldric!” she called, her voice cracking. “Selene!”

  She dropped to her knees beside a burned research station, digging through the ash with frantic hands. “They were here… they had to be here—”

  “Uh… hey,” one of Dalen’s men said awkwardly. “Maybe they… y’know… got out.”

  “No!” She spun on him, tears cutting tracks through the ash on her face. “You don’t understand! Eldric never leaves his research! They’re here! They have to be!”

  Then footsteps approached.

  Sebastian emerged from the darkness between two ruined tents, Astraea beside him. Behind them came the wet, dragging sound of dead weight sliding over ash.

  “Set it down,” Astraea murmured.

  The Veilbound gave the leg a final shove. The corpse slid across the ash, spinning loosely, and came to rest in the middle of the group, face to the sky.

  Thena turned slowly.

  Dark green coat with gold trim.

  Her eyes widened, a trembling breath slipping into her lungs.

  Black hair, matted with dried blood and ash. The smell of rot and rain hit her even from where she kneeled.

  “No,” she whispered.

  She crawled forward on her hands and knees, ash scattering beneath her.

  “I don’t understand,” she sobbed, fingers clutching desperately at the dark green coat. “I don’t— we were just together. We were just—”

  Her hands trembled violently as she gripped the fabric.

  “Papa, how? How is this possible? You were fine, you were—”

  She broke completely, collapsing onto the body, uncaring of the decay, the stench, the fluids soaking into her clothes. Her fists knotted in his coat as she wept, her whole body shuddering with grief so raw it felt as if it tore the very air around her.

  “Papa, you can’t leave me alone. You promised you wouldn’t.” Another sob wrenched from her throat, primal and broken.

  Astraea watched from where she stood, her crimson eyes glowing with a rapture that bordered on ecstasy. Her lips parted slightly, a soft breath slipping out, savoring every tremor of Thena’s grief like a rare vintage.

  The Baron turned his face aside. Adelaide’s fingers pressed against her sides. Even Dalen looked away.

  Silence settled over the camp, pierced only by Thena’s desperate sobs into the chest of a dead man.

  A soft crunch of ash cut through the stillness. Footsteps approached.

  From the darkness beyond, two figures emerged.

  "Thena?"

  The voice cut through the night, deep and weathered and achingly familiar.

  Everyone turned.

  There, at the edge of the darkness, stood Aldric. The same dark green coat with gold trim. The same black hair.

  Beside him stood a figure in brilliant white, her porcelain armor catching the moonlight.

  “Thena, what are you—” The figure wearing Aldric’s face stopped when he saw her collapsed over the corpse.

  Thena’s head snapped up. Her tear-stained face contorted with confusion and dawning horror. She looked down at the rotting body beneath her hands.

  Then she looked up at the living man standing a few feet away.

  “Papa?” The word came out strangled, impossible.

  Silence fell over the ruins, heavy and terrifying.