The docks district never truly slept.
Even at night, lanterns swayed from iron hooks along the waterfront, throwing wavering light over stacks of crates, bundled nets, and the black water lapping against the piers. The air smelled of salt, tar, and the sharp tang of fish — layered with something far more pungent tonight.
Blood.
Kael could taste it on the breeze before he even saw the market.
He and Ryn moved along the edge of the main pier, hugging the shadows. They'd ditched their usual gear for darker leathers, and both carried weapons small enough to hide but quick enough to draw.
"This contact of yours," Kael murmured without looking at her, "trustworthy?"
Ryn's lips curved faintly in the dark. "As trustworthy as anyone who sells beast blood in a city where it's illegal without a Guild license."
"That's a no."
"That's a don't get caught asking too many questions."
They reached the last warehouse on the pier, its windows boarded, its front doors chained from the outside.
"Here," Ryn said. She ducked between two crates stacked against the side wall, then knocked twice against a section of weathered planks. A moment later, the boards shifted inward just enough for a pale face to appear in the gap.
A man's voice, low and quick: "Password?"
Ryn leaned in. "Black flame."
The gap closed, then the plank swung wider, revealing a narrow passage between the outer wall and an inner set of reinforced doors.
Inside, the smell hit Kael like a hammer. Beast blood — fresh, dried, mixed, separated. The metallic tang was almost cloying, layered with the sour musk of too many bodies in too small a space.
The black market wasn't a single stall or vendor. It was an ecosystem.
Crates of bottled blood sat alongside jars of teeth, claws, and glands. Merchants haggled in hushed voices, glancing around constantly. Customers — some wearing Guild coats with insignia ripped off, others dressed like common laborers — browsed with practiced detachment.
In the far corner, a heavy tarp covered something large, the edges faintly wet.
Kael's eyes lingered there until Ryn elbowed him lightly. "Later," she murmured. "We're here for the seller moving tainted stock."
They moved through the crowd, listening. Snippets of conversation floated past:
"…lightning-aligned, still warm…""…price is high because it's clean…""…shaper's dogs… careful you're not one…"
The last phrase made Kael's attention snap to the speaker — a wiry man in a patched coat, trading coins for a stoppered vial the size of his thumb.
Ryn caught his arm before he could step closer. "Not him. Too small-scale."
"Then who?"
"Over there." She tilted her head toward a table against the far wall.
The seller there was different from the others. While most hawked openly, this one kept his wares covered in thick black cloth. Customers approached singly, exchanged a few quiet words, and left with parcels wrapped so tightly no scent escaped.
The man himself was broad-shouldered, his face mostly hidden under a hood. One gloved hand rested constantly on the table, the other passing coins or goods without pause.
And behind him… Kael noticed the faintest flicker of movement.
Shadows too deep for the lanternlight.
"We get closer," Ryn whispered.
Kael shook his head. "No. We wait for him to leave. See where he takes the money."
But the choice was made for them.
The hooded man looked up suddenly, his gaze sweeping the market — and stopping on Kael.
For a fraction of a second, Kael thought it was coincidence. Then the man's lips curved in the faintest smile.
He reached beneath the table, and the lantern nearest them went out.
Darkness swept the market. Not just the absence of light — this was thicker, heavier, a darkness that clung to the skin. Conversations stopped. A few startled shouts rang out, cut short.
Ryn's voice was a whisper at Kael's ear. "That's not natural."
Kael's instincts screamed. "We're blown. Move!"
They turned toward the way they'd come, but figures were already there — five of them, stepping from the shadows. Faces hidden, movements too silent for normal boots on wood.
The nearest one held a short blade angled low. "The Shaper wants words."
Kael's hand went to his knife. "I've got none worth sharing."
The man lunged.
Kael sidestepped, slashing for the wrist. Stonehide absorbed the glancing cut the attacker managed in return, the blade barely breaking skin. Ryn's crossbow sang, a bolt catching another figure in the thigh, dropping him with a grunt.
Chaos erupted.
Kael drove his shoulder into one assailant, sending him crashing into a crate of jars. Glass shattered, the scent of raw beast blood exploding into the air.
The darkness thickened again, and something brushed past Kael's side — too fast to follow.
Ryn fired again, her bolt sparking as it struck something metal. "They're wearing armor under the cloaks!"
"Good to know," Kael growled. He feinted left, then kicked the table hard, sending it and the hooded seller sprawling. The black cloth slipped from one of the bundles, revealing a vial of blood that glowed.
Not just elemental glow — this was wrong. The liquid pulsed faintly, like a living heart.
One of the attackers hissed, "Put that back!"
Kael grinned. "Come and take it."
He grabbed the vial, tucking it into his coat as another assailant rushed him. Kael's knife met the man's blade, sparks flying. Stonehide let him absorb the shock of the clash and shove forward, knocking the man off balance.
Ryn had dropped to one knee, reloading in a smooth, fast motion. She sighted on the hooded seller, who had rolled to his feet and was trying to slip toward a side exit.
The bolt took him in the shoulder, spinning him halfway around. He snarled but kept moving.
"Kael!" Ryn shouted.
He was already moving, cutting down another attacker with a slash across the hamstring before vaulting over a toppled crate. The side exit was narrow, the boards slick with sea spray.
He caught the seller by the hood, yanking him back. The man spun, striking with a dagger aimed for Kael's ribs — but the blade skittered off the Stonehide with only a shallow scrape.
Kael's knife went to the man's throat. "Who's the Shaper?"
The man's lips twisted. "Closer than you think."
Then he shoved himself forward onto the blade, forcing it deep. His body went limp instantly.
"Damn it," Kael hissed, letting the corpse drop.
Bootsteps pounded behind him — Ryn, crossbow in hand, breath quick. "We need to go. Now."
They slipped through the exit into the night air, the distant shouts of the market's chaos fading as they moved down the pier. Kael's grip tightened on the vial in his coat.
Even through the glass, he could feel its heat — not like Fire, but like something alive and watching.
Only when they reached the shadow of an abandoned net-drying rack did they stop. Ryn's eyes were locked on the bulge in his coat.
"That's it?" she asked.
"It's something," Kael said. "Enough to prove the Shaper's moving blood that's… wrong."
She reached for it, but he pulled back. "Not here. Not where they can smell it on us. We take it somewhere safe, and then we find out what the hell this is."
Ryn hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. But next time, you let me shoot first."
Kael almost smiled. "You always shoot first."
They melted back into the city, the vial's faint pulse a constant reminder that the night's fight had only bought them more questions.
Who were those cloaked agents?Why kill their own seller rather than risk him talking?And what in the void was in that blood?
Kael didn't know yet. But he did know one thing — the Shaper was tightening the noose.
And he was running out of room to move.