The wind outside wailed like a trapped animal, scraping its sorrow against the jagged stone. But inside, the cold silence was sharper—an assassin wearing stillness as a mask.
Lorenzo moved through the cavern with the precision of a man born from shadow.
A single lantern burned on the wooden table, its flame trembling as though afraid of him.
The faint light revealed the array he had laid out: three vials of ink-black liquid, a map of the city carved into leather, and a list of names written in his own blood.
Names that would not live to see the Red Moon Eclipse.
He dragged a gloved finger over the list, stopping on the first name.
Bianca…..
He didn't smile, he didn't need to. His silence said everything.
"She thinks she can play me," he murmured, voice low and velvet-dark. "She thinks she knows the rules of this war…"
He dipped his finger into one of the vials and made a swift stroke across her name.
"But she doesn't realize I'm rewriting them."
