Ever since the morning sun first brushed the rooftops, the capital had not rested. The streets stirred with unease, boots echoing against stone as patrols grew tighter, sterner. The news hadn't come from official channels—it never did. It came through whispers and half-truths, spreading like rot through the city's underbelly. Something had happened, something violent, but no one outside the upper circles truly knew what. Whatever it was, those at the top were doing everything in their power to suffocate the truth. And of course they would. No ruler wants to be seen bleeding.
Shaun had been walking the city's length since first light, vanishing into its folds like water through cracks. The number of guards and soldiers had swelled since dawn, clustered around gates and bottlenecks, watching faces more than footsteps. Every passerby was a suspect. Every glance, a potential threat. But despite the sheer scale of what had occurred, not a single common soul had a full picture. It was being scrubbed clean. Or buried. Probably both.
He crossed into another sector, this one lined with decadence. A playground for nobles and merchant princes, dressed in leisure and polished arrogance. The air here was sweeter, but it stank of something worse.
In his mind, Shaun moved with clarity.
What I'm doing isn't anything new. I'm laying attack zones, fusing pieces of umbra aura into the seams of the city, then wiping all traces clean with Tempest. Nothing remains. Not even residue. It's afternoon already, and I've marked most of the major sectors. Just a few more and I'll be able to move across the capital like breath through air. No eyes. No obstacles.
It'd be easier if I had access to restricted sites. The buildings sealed off from rats like me. That would save me some effort. But I'll manage. Don't worry, I'm not burning the city this time.
The corner of his mouth lifted faintly, not out of amusement but certainty.
He kept moving, quiet and calculated, yawning as he walked—another face in the crowd. A ghost among sheep. But of course, peace never lasted.
"Hey, what are you doing here, huh?"
The voice scraped at his nerves. Shaun didn't even turn. Inwardly, he sighed.
Again with this insect. She doesn't know when to stop. I ought to kill her just for making that sound with her mouth. That shriveled excuse for a tongue, flapping nonsense. And that face—do I really have to see it again?
"What do you think I'm doing?" His tone was ice. "Flying through the sky?"
The two maids flanking her stiffened instantly, their eyes flashing. But Cleanet didn't back down. She never did.
"Still as vulgar as ever," she spat. "Don't think I've got unlimited patience just because I let things slide when you were a child."
He kept walking.
"Thanks. Would've been better if you'd just left me alone."
One of the maids stepped forward, intent on blocking his path, but someone else got there first. No warning. Just presence.
A boy stepped in front of him, broad-shouldered and grinning like he already thought he'd won something.
"Hey, brat. Don't you know how to speak to a lady?" James. His voice dripped with superiority, but it was hollow. Performative. "Where's your respect?"
Shaun's patience cracked.
"Fuck off. I'm not in the mood."
That was enough to send James into a fury. He lunged, aiming for Shaun's collar, but caught nothing but air. Shaun moved without theatrics. Sidestepped the grab, sat low, and drove his leg straight into the side of James's knee. The crack wasn't loud, but the collapse was. James crumpled, humiliated in the center of the plaza, surrounded by stunned onlookers.
Shaun was gone before the dust even settled
Isaac had only been passing through. A coincidence. Nothing more. Yet there he stood, frozen in place, having witnessed the entire scene unfold. Unintended, unprepared.
"What in the world… Shaun? What is he doing here?" Isaac's voice trembled, barely rising above a whisper. "And what… what did he just do?" Her breath caught in her throat. Shock. Astonishment. Disbelief. A storm swelled in her chest, impossible to suppress.
But Isaac was not what she appeared to be. Or rather, not who. Her name was Irine. A young woman from a fallen house, living beneath a mask of boyhood. Disguised. Hidden. Taken in by Frank, who had long known her secret, though even he had never been told the reason. He only kept the promise.
"I didn't think I'd meet you like this, Shaun… not in this life." Her voice cracked with the weight of memory. Eyes glistened with ghosts. Guilt clawed its way up from somewhere deep. The past had not forgotten her, and neither had she.
She stood in the middle of the square while the world around her moved. People passed. Carts rolled. Voices drifted. But she remained still, anchored by thought.
What should I do? Should I go to him? No… I can't. What right do I have? What good have I ever done for him?
But I want to. I want to see him. Just looking at him brought it all back—those memories, those feelings I thought I buried. I thought I'd hardened my heart. But just one glimpse of him, and it all came undone.
Her hand moved to her chest.
More importantly, why is he here? He should be in his town, safe in that mansion. What reason could he have to wander these streets? This wasn't how it was meant to be. I swore to protect him, to make up for the things I'd done. I was supposed to shield him from all of this. But now…
She didn't finish the thought. Instead, she turned. There were questions that needed answers. She made her way toward the café, where the supposed victims had retreated—Cleanet and James, both inside now. James sat with his leg wrapped in bandages, tended to by Cleanet's maids.
Isaac stepped through the doorway.
"That filthy peasant," James barked, his voice rough and bitter. "Who does he think he is? He has no idea who he just messed with. Jail? No. I'll break every bone in his body. And I won't stop there. I'll teach him what real terror looks like. Just wait. I'll find him."
"Huh. You couldn't even touch him when he was right in front of you," Cleanet muttered, her tone flat and unimpressed. "You're all bark."
James glared at her, lips curled, but someone behind him burned hotter. Isaac had heard enough.
A hand landed on James's shoulder, firm as iron.
"Sir. You are under arrest for causing public nuisance."
James turned, disbelief on his face.
"What did you just say? Are you out of your mind, kid? Do you know who I am? And who the hell are you to arrest me?"
Cleanet and the maids backed up slightly, unsettled by the look in Isaac's eyes.
"Cooperate."
"You crazy bastard—"
Bang.
The sound was dull, sudden. Isaac's strike landed clean against the side of James's neck, and the arrogant noble dropped like dead weight. No ceremony. No warning.
Without a word, Isaac began dragging him out of the café, past the stunned women. But before leaving, she stopped at the door.
"Ladies. This mess ends here. Don't try anything else. Toward anyone. Understood?"
Her eyes were sharp enough to silence whatever pride they might've held. Then she was gone, pulling James along the stone road.
Don't worry, Shaun. I haven't forgotten. I made a promise—to myself, if no one else. I'll protect you from all of this filth, from every shadow crawling your way. You deserve a quiet life. A happy one. And I'll give it to you. That is the only apology I have left.
Evening had crept into the city like a slow knife through silk.
Shaun appeared without a sound, materializing in the dim-lit room he'd been renting alongside Soren. No flicker. No flourish. One moment there was nothing, the next, he was simply there.
"Good," he muttered to himself, brushing dust from his cloak. "I've covered nearly the entire city now. Time to start the fun."
He dropped into the old wooden chair with a weary ease, eyes locking onto the spread before him—a table buried beneath hundreds of letters and pamphlets, each crafted meticulously through the long, sleepless night.
"First part of the plan," he murmured. "Get them scattered across the city. All at once. Should be simple now."
With a single flick of his fingers, a soft flare of ember sparked mid-air. From that flame emerged Ignis, the burning bird, summoned into the room like a flare born of fire and spellcraft. Its body pulsed with warmth, feathers glowing in hues of molten gold and ruby, wings fluttering as it chirped, elated to be reunited with its master.
"Hey now," Shaun muttered, watching the creature whirl in circles around him, "calm down."
The bird slowed, wings folding inward, perching on the edge of the table. Its fire dimmed just enough not to burn the parchment.
"This task will be strange," Shaun continued, leaning closer, his voice low and commanding. "Shrink yourself. As small as you can manage."
Ignis chirped once, acknowledging.
"You'll begin with umbra teleportation. Enter at one point in the city. From there, take to the skies—silently. No trails. No light. Fly over every street, every alley. Once airborne, use the umbra spell again to scatter these letters and pamphlets across the entire city. Focus on crowded areas. Markets. Taverns. Gates. I want eyes on this paper."
The bird tilted its head, listening.
"But under no circumstance," Shaun warned, his tone sharp as blade metal, "are you to be seen. Not once. Not by a child, not by a beast. Not even a passing breeze. Once it's done, return the same way."
Ignis gave a low trill in response. It understood.
And then it began.
With a sudden burst, its form shrank, compressing into a flame the size of a coin, glowing dim as twilight. It hovered over the letters, talons outstretched, one after the other vanishing into its grip. A soft gust rolled through the room, and in the blink of an eye, it vanished through the shadows.
The skies above the kingdom darkened under the weight of night.
And then, high above, where no eyes dared to look, a flicker moved—too faint to name, too swift to track. Ignis moved like a wisp of fire braided with silence. No light trailed behind it. No sound betrayed it.
From rooftops to alleyways, towers to courtyards, every inch of the city fell beneath its flight. Each beat of its wings carried a whisper of parchment, a breath of Shaun's will. Letters floated down like the hush of snowfall. Pamphlets slipped into barrels, tucked behind signs, caught on fences, drifted into fountains, lodged between shutters. All across the city, they rained. Quiet. Unseen.
And none noticed the ghost in the sky who had brought them.
When it was done, Ignis flickered again. A shadow peeled itself from the air, and the bird vanished, reappearing moments later back in the room. It landed softly on the edge of the table, feathers no longer aflame, its presence silent.
Job complete.
Shaun nodded, eyes narrowing as he leaned back in his chair.
"Perfect."