"The captain falls here."
Elias had repeated the line so many times in his head it was starting to lose its meaning. But the danger hadn't gone away—far from it. The Script's stubborn refusal to change meant the noose was still closing in.
Selin's warning echoed: Find the first link in the chain.
It was time to stop waiting for the dagger to strike again. He would follow the hand that wielded it.
The next day, Elias slipped into the south quarter alone. The Guild's influence bled into everything here—licit, illicit, and the spaces in between. If someone wanted Brynn dead, the Guild was the place to start.
He spent hours on the bustling streets, listening, buying drinks for chatty drunks, and lending a hand to dockworkers for a few loose rumors. By noon, one name repeated again and again: Karric Vayne.
A Guild fixer. A man who could make problems vanish—with gold, or with steel.
Elias found him in a tavern at the quarter's edge, seated in a corner with two heavies guarding his table. Gaunt, sharp-nosed, clothes rich but subdued. Exactly as Elias imagined.
Without invitation, Elias sat across from him.
Karric's gaze slid over him. "You've got the wrong table, friend."
"I'm looking for the man who keeps hiring blades to chase Captain Brynn of the city guard."
The heavies stirred, but Karric only smiled thinly. "And you think that's me?"
"I think you're the one giving the orders," Elias said evenly. "And I think if you don't stop, you won't be hiring anyone again."
Karric's grin rumbled low. "Steel in your voice. But you've no idea how far down the knife goes. The Captain isn't my problem—she's my client."
Elias froze. "Client?"
"Of course," Karric said, rocking back in his chair. "Some of us are trying to keep her alive. The ones trying to kill her? That's a different chain of command."
"Who's holding it?" Elias pressed.
"You don't want to know," Karric replied. "And if you keep tugging at threads, you'll catch the attention of the gods."
Elias's veins ran cold. "The gods who wrote the Script?"
Karric only smiled. "Tell your Captain to be careful."
Outside the barracks, Selin was waiting. One look at him and she knew. "You've been digging."
"Karric says he's trying to keep her alive."
"And you trust him?" she asked, one brow raised.
"I think he's scared of someone higher," Elias said. "And if they're part of the chain, I'll cut them out."
Selin stepped closer, her voice low. "You break a prophecy tied too deep into the Script, the loop won't just shake—it will howl. And when it howls, things listen."
Elias's mouth went dry. "What things?"
She didn't answer. Which was worse than words.
Two days later, the Warden sent Brynn and Elias to deliver sealed orders to a border garrison. A quiet escort, just the two of them, the road winding through ancient woods and crumbling guard towers.
Halfway there, the Script appeared again.
The captain falls here.
Elias's heart lurched. "Brynn—something's coming."
She drew her sword without hesitation. The ambush hit seconds later.
Killers in black leather burst from the trees, swords flashing. Elias moved on instinct, shielding her, trading blows, forcing one assailant down with his knee. Brynn carved another aside, her blade a silver arc. But still more attackers swarmed. These weren't street thugs—they were trained, coordinated, pressing her in pairs, never letting her breathe.
Elias's mind clawed for a way to break the chain. Then he saw him—the leader, holding back, signaling every move. His men obeyed like extensions of his will.
The first link.
Elias broke from Brynn's side, charging the leader. Steel rang as the man parried, fast and precise. But Elias fought with desperation—no tomorrow if he failed. A low slash, a shove, a sudden opening. Elias drove the blade into his chest.
The leader crumpled. His followers faltered. Brynn cut the rest down in a blur of steel.
When silence fell, Elias turned to the Script.
It was gone.
His knees nearly gave out. "I think… I broke it."
Brynn sheathed her blade, still catching her breath. "Then I owe you twice over."
That night, Elias lay in bed, but peace didn't last. New words shimmered into view.
The chain is cut. The Weavers turn their eyes.
The air pressed heavy, like something unseen stood just beyond the walls.
The next day, Selin found him again, her face grim. "You really did it."
"I stopped it," Elias insisted. "She's safe."
"For now," Selin said. "But you've caught the Weavers' attention. They don't like it when patterns fray."
"Who are they?"
"Think of them as editors," she said. "They keep the Script running. And now they have reason to erase you."
Before he could reply, a horn blared over the city walls—a long, low note that rattled the streets.
Selin's eyes glinted. "Your reward comes early."
Elias rode with Brynn and Aric to the gates. The world beyond had warped. Shadows shifted against the sun, the air rippled unnaturally. And then it appeared.
Taller than a man, spindly, its body formed of ink-dark strands that trembled in the still air.
Aric's voice was tight. "That isn't carrion."
"No," Selin said softly. "That's a Weaver."
The thing halted just out of bow range. Its head tilted, threads shivering. A voice slid into Elias's skull.
Reader. You have undone a line.
Elias's throat locked. "I saved her."
The line was ours.
The words ended as the strands snapped forward, faster than arrows. Shields clashed against the impact, walls shook with the blow, and in the chaos Elias saw the Script once more.
The Reader will not wake.