The streets of Kurokasa were silent above, but below them, life thrived in shadow.
Reiji followed a single thread of light through the cracked stone alleys until he reached a narrow stairwell spiraling downward. The air thickened with the smell of damp stone, iron, and burning oil.
At the bottom, the world opened into a vast underground market — not for goods, but for secrets.
Here, deals were made with no coin, only favors.
Here, names were worth more than gold, and a whispered word could start a war.
Figures cloaked in tattered robes lingered at every corner.
Eyes glinted from beneath masks, and faint murmurs floated on the air — fragments of conversations about assassinations, betrayals, and movements of armies no one dared to speak of above ground.
Reiji moved with purpose, ignoring the merchants of whispers who tried to pull him into their webs. His destination was a shadowed alcove at the far end, guarded by two silent men whose eyes never blinked. One step closer, and they moved aside, letting him in without a word.
Inside sat a man known only as The Archivist — his face obscured by a lattice of chains, his fingers stained with ink. He spoke without looking up from the parchment he was inscribing.
> "The Court let you live. That means you're either very valuable… or very dangerous."
Reiji remained silent.
The Archivist dipped his quill in black ink and traced a sigil on the parchment — one Reiji recognized from his trial. The ink shimmered, then sank into the page as if swallowed by it.
> "You want to know the Silent Court's next move," the Archivist said, finally lifting his gaze. "But you should be asking what they fear."
A faint scraping sound came from the far wall — a concealed panel sliding open. Inside the narrow space, illuminated by a single candle, hung a map of the city. Dozens of red threads radiated outward from a single marked location in the east: The Glass Spire.
Reiji studied it, noting how every thread seemed to link not to districts or fortresses, but to names — people. The Court wasn't targeting territory… they were targeting influence.
> "They fear the Spire," the Archivist continued, "because it doesn't play by their rules."
Reiji stepped closer, tracing one of the threads with his eyes.
One name at the end of a crimson line caught his attention — a name that shouldn't have been written anywhere, because no one alive was supposed to know it.
His own.
The Archivist's voice was low, almost a warning.
> "If you climb the Spire… you won't come back the same."
Reiji turned to leave.
> "Then I guess it's time I start climbing."