The massacre in Sector Four spread faster than fire. Thirty husks slumped against a plaza wall—living, breathing, but emptied of their shadows. Every corner of the city whispered the same thing:
Umbra didn't save them.
The words stung sharper than blame. Hope had carried weight; now it carried questions. And questions could kill as cleanly as knives.
---
Helix moved before the ashes cooled.
Their vans multiplied overnight, gray ghosts crawling every district. Agents in plain coats appeared at tea stalls, outside workshops, in schools, watching, writing, waiting. They didn't storm houses. They didn't shout. They drowned the city in silence.
Rumors spread that anyone who whispered "Umbra" too loud vanished. That the baker's cousin had been taken for smiling too long at a joke about shadows. That even children were asked where their parents walked at night.
Umbra had become dangerous not just for us—but for anyone who believed.
---
From the balcony of the shop, I counted three Helix agents standing where one used to. Their eyes never left the street.
"They're not hunting Fang anymore," Mara said behind me. Her voice was sharp as her blade. "They're hunting us."
Jonas leaned on the railing, unmoving, a mountain watching a storm roll in. "They don't know where."
"Not yet," I said. "But they don't need to. If they tighten the rope, sooner or later someone will choke."
The Lexicon pulsed hot under my ribs, threads glowing across the city. Duty. Fear. Desperation. A hundred strands pulling tighter with every breath.
Mara's smirk twisted bitter. "We've made two enemies, and one is better at smiling while it strangles."
"Then we make them trip," I said.
---
That night, we met in the backroom. Candlelight cut shadows against the map on the table. Coins and relic shards marked Helix patrols, Fang hideouts, places where people still dared to whisper our name.
"They're circling the plaza," I said. "Every sector has double eyes. Transfers happen twice daily. Anyone taken doesn't come back the same."
Jonas frowned. "We cut another loose?"
"Too dangerous," I said. "Not yet. They expect it now. We steal one more, they'll lock the city tighter than iron."
Mara slammed her dagger into the map. "So what then? Watch while Helix squeezes and Fang hollows? What's left for Umbra to protect—ashes and silence?"
Her voice cracked at the end. That was worse than the blade.
"We shift," I said quietly. "We stop fighting where they look. We move where their eyes can't follow. If Helix stares at us, we make Fang bleed in ways that don't leave shadows."
Jonas nodded. "Sabotage."
"Small cuts," I said. "Enough to make Veyra scream at ghosts while Helix drowns in her noise."
The Lexicon pulsed steady, like ink drying sure on the page.
---
Our first test came two nights later.
Fang's men stored coin in a warehouse under Helix's nose, betting their enemies wouldn't dare touch it.
Mara's laugh was soft in the dark. "Perfect."
Jonas pushed open the rear door with one shoulder, quiet as thunder. I slipped inside, scattering powder across crates.
A spark. A flash. No fire—just smoke, black and choking, spilling into the night. Fang's men stumbled out coughing, guards tripping over themselves. Helix agents two streets over rushed toward the chaos.
When the smoke cleared, the crates stood empty. Umbra hadn't stolen coin. We'd stolen whispers. People would tell the story: Fang's pride stripped bare under Helix's watch.
And Helix? They'd wonder how shadows moved where their eyes were thickest.
---
Back at the shop, the candle flickered low. Jonas sat silent, Mara smirked faint, soot streaking her cheek.
"They'll choke on each other before they choke us," she said.
I wrote in the ledger:
Helix tightens. Fang hollows. Umbra slips between, cutting threads one by one.
The Lexicon thrummed warm against my chest. The game had changed. The noose had tightened. But the rope could fray.
---
Author's Note (Relic):
Smoke Powder (Common Tech Relic): Finely ground chemical dust that, when ignited, produces thick choking smoke without fire. Useful for sabotage and confusion.