When Pheo woke, sunlight was already leaking through the shutters in thin, jagged lines. For a moment, he felt the kind of disorientation that comes after sleep in a new place.
He sat up slowly, seeing Adam's bed was still untouched. The fatigue of yesterday's search was replaced by concern. Pheo stood, scanned the room once again just to be sure, then grabbed his clothes.
If he didn't come back last night then something happened, something unexpected.
Pheo left the hotel and stepped into the morning rush. He retraced some of the paths Adam might've taken. Alleyways, guard posts, busy taverns... But every question he asked led to a dead end.
Frustrated, Pheo cut across a market lane toward another main road, stopping when he saw a crowd gathered near a narrow street corner. Whispered voices filled the air, with the sound of someone crying coming from the distance.
He could faintly smell blood in the air before seeing Kael, the boy from yesterday, standing in front of the crowd. He had a notebook in hand, expression sharp and serious.
On the ground near him lay a lifeless body covered with a torn piece of cloth. For a split second, Kael's eyes lifted from the bloodstains and met Pheo's. He gave a thin, almost amused smile, as if saying Of course it'd be you here too.
"Ah," Kael said under his breath, flipping a page in his notebook as he crouched near the body. "Looks like you've stumbled into something a little more interesting than dusty books, Pheo." He said, smiling.
Pheo blinked. "You're investigating this?" He stayed back at first, scanning the scene. Around him were guards murmuring unhelpful reports, while a few Concordist officials stood nearby keeping their presence quiet but watchful.
The victim was a well-dressed older man, a Concordist official judging by the emblem half-hidden under his cloak. A smear of dried blood trailed from his mouth, but there were no stab wounds, no arrows, not even a bruise on his neck.
Kael clicked his tongue and stood, scribbling a crossed-out line in his notebook. "One body yesterday. Another the night before that. All Concordist bureaucrats or officers," he muttered. "And not a single consistent wound among them. This one doesn't even look attacked."
Pheo leaned in, looking carefully. "It's not a stab, not poison that burns either. And his veins..." He touched the wrist lightly, "the veins were distended, like something had forced air in."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Like what? Internal drowning?" Pheo shook his head. "No, Air embolism," He corrected him. "Someone injected air into his bloodstream, causing the heart to stop. You only need a small syringe."
Kael stared at him, a flicker of respect flashing across his face. "That's... disturbingly clever."
"It means the killer got close enough to touch him," Pheo added, uneasy. "And knew exactly what they were doing." Kael nodded, starting to scribble down notes. "And it also means this wasn't random. It's precise. Someone is killing those in the Concordist ranks."
Pheo glanced again at the body. "But... if the killer could get close enough to inject air, why not use their gift at that point?" His voice dropped lower. "If these are Concordists being targeted, someone strong enough would take only seconds to leave nothing behind."
Kael looked up, lips curling into a thin smile, almost pleased at the question. "Because they'd get caught." Pheo raised an eyebrow. "How?" Kael stood and dusted his coat. "They'll get caught by The Director."
Pheo frowned. "Who?" Kael went a step closer, voice low. "I could tell from when we first met that you're new to this city, so you wouldn't know. The Director is the one who controls most of the top fighters. Out here in the Badlands, he's law personified."
"People here learned a long time ago, use your power loudly in this city, and it sends a message. And the Director doesn't like people sending messages without his permission."
Pheo gestured down at the body. "So whoever's doing this uses no Gift at all. They do just enough to finish what needs to be done." Kael flashed a quick, impressed grin. "Took you long enough to catch that."
Kael closed his notebook with a snap. "Come on. We're going to the second crime scene from yesterday. Maybe there's an overlap." He gave Pheo an assessing glance. "Are you coming?"
Pheo's jaw tightened. He followed behind, with Kael leading the way through a cluster of narrow wooden bridges. They went past a shuttered bakery and down into a quiet side street where the air smelled like old iron.
Before them was one of yesterday's crime scenes, already mostly cleaned up save for the chalk marks etched on the ground and a thin rope of dried blood seeping between the cracks in the flooring.
"This one was earlier," Kael said, flipping open his notebook. "Different victim, same affiliation. A Concordist quartermaster. Also no obvious wound. Body already taken." Guards were gone from the scene now, but a few curious locals kept glancing from their doorways.
Pheo crouched by the chalk outline, brushing the small debris aside. He spotted what looked like a powdery residue near the corner post. He looked closer, seeing that there was also a torn scrap of dark red cloth snagged on a broken nail nearby.
"Did you find something?" Kael stepped over. Pheo nodded towards the cloth. "This color, it's not Concordist. And that powder... leftover from a flare or a burn mark."
Kael's eyes narrowed slightly. "These colors... they match the shades of The Ember Pact." He grabbed a pinch of the powder and bagged it as evidence. "Their banners use this type of red. Too bright to be military, too rough to be noble."
Kael crouched down, picking up the scrap carefully with a piece of parchment. He held it up to the light, "Ember Pact fabric is harsher, dyed cheap. They use flares to signal their own in the streets, or to summon escorts discreetly."
"Whoever killed this man might have signaled someone nearby," Pheo said quietly. "Or was signaling the Pact itself." Kael's expression shifted, the first flicker of seriousness Pheo had seen from him.
"If the Pact is behind these killings, we'll need real proof." He looked at Pheo. "You keep surprising me. I might actually drag you into this after all." The air grew quieter as the two of them left the alley.
Kael walked ahead with a quickened pace, flipping through his notebook, lips pressed in a thin line. "Where are we going?" Pheo asked, making Kael pull something from his coat pocket.
It was a folded letter, a black wax seal stamped with an ember-shaped sigil. "I got this two nights ago," Kael said, expression unreadable. "An invitation. Said they had a use for a mind like mine." He snickered, "They don't realize I'm planning to infiltrate them."
"You're going to meet them?" Pheo asked him, his eyes widening a little. "I'm going?" Kael slid the invitation back into his coat. "No, we're going." He glanced sidelong at Pheo.
"You saw what I saw. And honestly..." he smirked faintly, "you're more observant than half the people I've worked with." Pheo frowned. "What if this is a trap?" Kael shrugged, "It probably is, that's why you're coming too."
He shot him a look. "So you're saying you want backup?" Kael gave him a tilted grin. "I want someone who doesn't trust them either." He hesitated, still thinking of how Adam's missing.
Pheo clenched his fists. "Fine. If it helps us figure out who's been going around killing..."
And maybe find Adam along the way too.
Kael tapped a pencil against his temple thoughtfully. "And if The Ember Pact is behind this? If they really are killing off Concordist officials?"
"Then we get proof," Pheo said, eyes steady. "And burn them down before they burn the city first."
Kael led Pheo around, turning sharply down a cleaner, lantern-lit boulevard, far from the alley of crimes of earlier. "You live here?" Pheo muttered. He had realized that Kael was leading him not toward the slums, but to one of the upscale hotels wrapped in ironwork balconies and expensive glass lamps.
Kael didn't look back. "Temporarily." Inside, everything smelled of polish and mint oil. The lobby was quiet, full of pointed wood and velvet chairs. He led him up a side staircase, past a guard who apparently knew him.
They went down a private hall, into a suite that made Pheo blink. Books were stacked on elegant tables, papers scattered on a desk with a few maps pinned on a board. In the center of it all, waiting calmly, was Thorne.
He was dressed like some immaculate attendant, hands behind his back, as if he'd never left his post. "Master Kael," he said with a small nod. Kael tossed his coat aside and pointed at Pheo.
"We need him dressed up for a meeting with The Ember Pact. To be done in half an hour." Thorne glanced at Pheo only once, his eyes quick and calculating. "Understood."
On a rack near the window hung formal attire. Dress shirts, dark coats, gloves and boots, all of them tailored for young men the same size as Kael. He took a set of garments and handed them to Pheo. "Put these on. Button every clasp. No visible weapons. You must pass as someone of purpose."
He went to the adjacent room and dressed quickly. The outfit fit better than expected. Sleek, almost noble in cut, but edged with practicality. A dark charcoal coat with faint silver trimming. Soft leather boots with a black collar folded sharply against his neck.
Kael, already suited up in a dark coat and gloves, looked him over once Pheo stepped back in. "You're looking quite sharp," he said. "You'd fit right in with the others attending."
"Stay quiet. Listen. Watch what they say, especially the quiet things. If we're lucky, we leave with proof they're tied to the Concordist killings." Kael glanced once out the tall window at the city beyond.
"Let's go," He said before leading them into the night. Lanterns flickered to life along the wooden bridges of the city, firelight reflecting off Kael's polished buttons and the clean cuffs of Thorne's gloves.