Veyra's silence didn't last. Silence never does when pride is bleeding.
Three nights after the warehouse humiliation, Fang bit back—not in the plaza, not in the open, but in the alleys where the city slept uneasy.
---
It began with bodies.
Umbra sympathizers—small-time traders, dockhands, even a girl who carried water for her sick father—turned up face-down in gutters, throats cut neat. No spectacle, no relic glow, just clean murder.
The message was clear: Fang didn't need relics to hollow people. Steel worked fine.
---
We sat in the backroom, candlelight trembling against the map.
"They're cutting throats now," Mara said. Her voice was sharp, but her eyes burned hotter. "Anyone who whispers our name could be next."
Jonas leaned forward, fists heavy on the table. "They fear whispers."
"They want to turn whispers into silence," I said. "If people fear speaking, hope dies faster than coin burns."
The Lexicon pulsed against my ribs, threads of grief and rage flickering across the city.
Mara slammed her dagger into the wood. "Then we take their knives. All of them."
"No," I said. "We take their fear. Make them afraid of the dark they claim to own."
---
That night, Umbra hunted Fang.
We moved in three groups, shadows slipping where Fang thought themselves strongest.
Mara took the rooftops, knives gleaming in moonlight. She stalked a pair of Fang thugs dragging a vendor into an alley. They never finished their work—blood splattered the cobbles before they saw her face.
Jonas waited by the docks, silent, still. A patrol of four came swaggering past. He stepped out of the dark, fists crushing ribs and skulls before their blades cleared scabbards. Their bodies splashed into the water, gone before the tide changed.
I slipped into the dens, whispering poison into ears drunk with fear. "Veyra says you're weak. She'll cut you next."
By morning, two Fang men had stabbed each other over imagined betrayals.
---
The killings didn't stop Fang. But they changed the story.
Now, when people whispered "Umbra," they did so with fire in their eyes instead of fear on their tongues. They spoke of shadows that struck back. Of Fang bleeding in alleys instead of vendors.
And that story spread faster than Helix could write it down.
---
But retaliation has a cost.
Two nights later, Fang set an ambush.
A team of Umbra—five men and women we trusted—never returned from a mission. We found their bodies dumped near the barrier wall, throats cut clean, masks torn away.
Mara stared down at them in silence, blade trembling in her hand. Jonas stood heavy beside her, face stone.
"They want us to feel it," Mara whispered.
"They want us to bleed," I said.
The Lexicon throbbed hot, pages turning sharp and hard.
"They'll learn," I murmured. "Umbra bleeds. But Umbra also bites."
---
Author's Note (Relic):
No new relics introduced this chapter. Focus on conventional steel and silent killings—a reminder that not all threats in Umbra's world come wrapped in relic glow.