Red Fang never let coin go unanswered.
By morning, word spread through the market. Collectors beaten. A sack of coin missing. A rumor of shadows moving in the night.
Whispers carried faster than fire: "Someone struck back."
The vendors were quiet, but their eyes burned brighter. The gangs were loud, knives flashing at their belts.
And Red Fang? They bled the streets with fear.
---
The Fang boss came to the plaza before noon.
A woman with hair braided tight and a coat stitched from relic shards that glowed faintly under the sun. Not a trinket wearer. A Pathwalker.
Her name hissed through the crowd: Veyra.
She carried no weapon, but her presence cracked the air. Men in red jackets followed, each armed, each mean.
"Someone thinks they can steal from me," Veyra said, her voice low but carrying. "Someone thinks shadows can hide coin."
Her eyes swept the plaza. The crowd bent under her gaze. Vendors lowered heads. Children hid.
Veyra smiled without warmth. "So here's my promise. I'll bleed this sector dry until the thief shows their face. If coin can vanish, so can people."
She snapped her fingers.
Two men dragged a vendor into the square. The old man had sold bread for years, never missing a payment. Veyra lifted his hand and pressed a relic shard against it.
Blue light flared. His scream tore through the plaza. When she released him, his hand was gone, flesh seared black.
"Find me the shadows," she said, turning. "Or more hands will burn."
The crowd stayed silent. Fear stank in the air.
---
From the back of the crowd, I watched under my hood. The Lexicon pulsed in my chest, pages turning with a weight that made my ribs ache. Jonas stood beside me, fists clenched. Mara's eyes burned like steel.
"Not yet," I whispered.
Jonas' jaw tightened. Mara hissed, "She'll kill them all."
"Not yet," I repeated. "We strike shadows, not sunlight. If we face her now, we die."
The Lexicon hummed, steady but tense, as if it too knew restraint was survival.
---
That night, in the back room, the candlelight trembled with our silence.
Jonas broke it first. "We can't let her keep burning people."
Mara's voice was sharp. "Then we cut her collectors faster than she can replace them. Show her she bleeds too."
I traced a line in the ledger. "Veyra wants fear. We'll give her paranoia instead. Every coin she takes, we'll take back. Every night she sleeps, she'll wonder where the next shadow is. She'll fight air until she's weak enough to strike."
Jonas nodded, calm but firm. Mara smirked faintly.
The Lexicon pulsed warm. A page turned.
The Fang had bared its teeth.
Umbra would teach it how it felt to choke on its own blood.