Chapter 88: The Serpent's Trap
I didn't run to the Serpent's Coil. I ran to Evander's manor, the crumpled note a burning brand in my fist. Bursting into his study for the second time that day, I didn't bother with greetings. I slammed the parchment down on his desk.
"He has them," I snarled. "Laron and Briza. He took them from the inn."
Evander's face, which had been a mask of controlled irritation, drained of all color. He snatched the note, his eyes scanning Silas's elegant script. As he read, the fear was replaced by a cold, towering rage that made the air in the room feel thin.
"That arrogant, upstart worm," he whispered, the words vibrating with fury. He crumpled the note. "To strike so brazenly… He has overstepped. This is an act of war."
"I'm going to get them back," I said, my voice deadly calm.
"Alone? Into his pit? That's precisely what he wants! It's a trap, you fool!"
"I know it's a trap!" I shot back. "But I'm not leaving them in there. He said he'd start sending pieces, and I believe him."
Evander stared at me, his mind racing. I could see the conflict, the desire to lash out, to crush Silas, warring with the cold pragmatism that had kept him in power. A direct assault on the Serpent's Coil would be a bloodbath, a public spectacle that would shatter the fragile peace and draw the attention of powers he didn't want involved.
He let out a sharp, frustrated breath. "We cannot attack directly. Not without… finesse." He turned to one of his ever-present guards. "Find the informant, Kael. Bring him to me. Now. Tell him his price just tripled."
My eyebrows shot up. "You're hiring him? After you ran him out of town?"
"Desperate times demand distasteful alliances," Evander said grimly. "He is a scalpel. Right now, we need a scalpel, not a sledgehammer. And he is the only one who knows the Coil's insides well enough to have a chance."
Kael arrived within the hour, looking utterly unruffled. He stood in Evander's study, his hands tucked into his pockets, a faint smirk on his lips as he took in our grim faces.
"The Serpent has grown bold," Evander began, dispensing with pleasantries. "He has taken my partners. I require their retrieval. Quietly."
Kael's smirk widened. "The price for a high-risk extraction from the heart of Silas Vane's territory is… considerable. And that's before we factor in my recent eviction."
"Name it," Evander bit out.
Kael named a sum that made even Evander flinch. But the Patron gave a sharp, reluctant nod. "Done. But you work with Kaizen. He has… unique talents."
Kael's pale eyes slid to me. "So I've heard. The human battering ram. Charming. A direct assault is suicide. The Coil is a fortress. But every fortress has a weak point." He looked at Evander. "I need the original architectural plans. The ones from when it was a granary, before Silas added his… renovations."
Evander gestured to a servant, who scurried off. Within minutes, a large, dusty scroll was produced. Kael unrolled it on the desk, revealing the blueprint of a massive, circular building.
"This is where we need your artist," Kael said, pointing to a network of thin lines. "The old ventilation and drainage systems. Silas sealed most of them, but he's arrogant. He uses the old storm drain on the south side as a private entrance for his 'special' guests and contraband. It's barred, but not magically warded. He relies on secrecy."
We needed Elara. Convincing her to join a heist was even harder than convincing her to move cities.
"You want me to crawl through a sewer?" she hissed, her face a mask of revulsion when we laid out the plan in her workshop. "To infiltrate a den of murderers and cutthroats? Have you all lost your minds?"
"It's the only way in they won't expect," I said, my patience wearing thinner by the second. "Kael knows the route. I can sense anyone nearby with my Ki. We get in, we find Laron and Briza, we get out. No one has to see you."
"It's beneath me! The filth! The degradation!"
"Laron is in there!" I snapped, my voice cracking like a whip. "The man who brought you this project, who treats you with more respect than you deserve! He's in a cage because of this! Are you really going to let your pride be the reason he dies?"
The words hung In the air, stark and brutal. Elara flinched, her haughty demeanor cracking. She looked from my desperate face to the blueprints, her jaw tight. With a sound of utter disgust, she snatched the plans.
"Fine," she spat. "But if I ruin this dress, I am billing Evander for a new one. And it will be expensive."
The plan was set. Under the cover of a moonless night, the four of us, Kaizen the weapon, Kael the guide, and Elara the unwilling cartographer, stood over a heavy iron grate in a stinking alley behind the Serpent's Coil. The sounds of the fighting pit were a dull, roaring beast above us.
With a grunt of effort, I pried the grate open, the metal shrieking in protest. The smell that wafted up was indescribable.
"Ladies first," Kael said with a mock bow to Elara.
She shot him a look that could curdle milk but, clutching her skirts, began the descent into the darkness.
The tunnel was tight, slimy, and pitch black. I led the way, my Ki sense stretched to its limit. I could feel the pulsing life force of thousands of rats, the slow drip of water, and, faintly, the thrum of the crowd above. It was like navigating by sonar through a river of filth.
Elara, guided by her memory of the blueprints, whispered directions. "Left here… the passage should widen ahead… there's a junction, we take the right branch, it leads to the lower storage cells."
We moved in silence, the only sounds our ragged breathing and the squelch of our boots. The air grew colder. My senses picked up something new—two life forces, flickering weakly, ahead and to the left. One was a frantic, rabbit-quick pulse. Laron. The other was a low, pained, but stubborn ember. Briza.
"They're close," I whispered back to Kael. "Just ahead. In a side chamber."
Kael nodded, his face unreadable in the gloom. "The guard rotation should be changing now. We have a five-minute window."
We reached a rusted iron door. This was it. I focused my Ki into my hand, preparing to shatter the lock.
"This is it," Elara confirmed, her voice a shaky whisper. "The old root cellar. He uses it for… storage."
I placed my palm on the lock, took a breath, and pushed. A sharp crack echoed in the tunnel, and the door swung inward.
The room was small and damp. In the far corner, Laron and Briza were chained to the wall. Laron's eyes were wide with terror, a gag in his mouth. Briza was conscious, her face bruised, but her eyes burned with a defiant fury. She saw me and gave a sharp, relieved nod.
I rushed forward, Kael right behind me with a set of lockpicks.
It was then that I felt it. A shift in the air. A dozen new life forces, previously masked by the roaring crowd above, suddenly flared into existence outside the door. Their energy was cold, disciplined, and waiting.
It was a trap within a trap.
I spun around. "Kael!"
The door slammed shut behind us. A heavy thunk of a new, much stronger bolt sliding home echoed in the small chamber.
From the shadows of the room itself, a figure emerged. Silas Vane, leaning against the far wall, applauding slowly. He wasn't dressed in his fighting pit finery, but in dark, practical clothes.
"Bravo," he said, his voice cheerful. "Truly. I have to admit, I didn't think you'd bring the cartographer. A delightful bonus." He looked at Kael. "And you. I knew you'd side with the highest bidder. Predictable."
Kael didn't look surprised. He just sighed, slipping his lockpicks back into his pocket. "Silas. You always did have a flair for the dramatic."
My heart plummeted. Kael. He had sold us out. He had led us right into the cage.
Silas grinned, that easy, charming grin that now looked like a predator's rictus. "You didn't think it was that easy, did you? The note, the obvious trap? That was for the city watch, for Evander's spies. This?" He gestured around the cell. "This was for you. The real prize."
He stepped closer, his eyes fixed on me. "The man with the strange power. The one who isn't using mana." He looked at Elara. "And the artist with the revolutionary tool." He finally glanced at Laron and Briza. "The merchandise is just a pleasant diversion."
He gestured to his men, who now filed into the room, crossbows leveled at us. We were surrounded, outnumbered, and outmaneuvered.
"Now," Silas said, his smile never wavering. "Let's have a real conversation about your future. And the future of your… 'conceptual weapon'."
The heist was over. We hadn't rescued anyone. We had simply delivered ourselves, and the keys to our entire venture, right into the serpent's jaws.
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