Forty-Five Minutes Earlier - Western Industrial District
Finn "The Blade" Corvus perched on a rusted water tower overlooking the western industrial district, his sharp eyes tracking patterns in the darkness below. Beside him, Rhea Varyn crouched with perfect stillness, her grey eyes cold and calculating as she studied their target.
The building looked abandoned—a three-story factory that had once produced textiles, now supposedly empty and waiting for demolition. But Finn's trained eye caught the tells: fresh boot prints in the mud around the perimeter, windows boarded up from the inside rather than outside, and the faint glow of lamplight bleeding through cracks in the walls.
"Underground levels," Rhea said quietly, her voice barely a whisper. "The intelligence said this facility has extensive basement operations disguised as old storage cellars."
"I count four guards visible on the surface," Finn replied, his fingers unconsciously checking his daggers for the hundredth time. "But that's misdirection. The real security will be below ground, protecting whatever horrors they're hiding down there."
Rhea pulled out a small vial of amber liquid, holding it up to catch the moonlight. "Serpent's Breath. Creates a gaseous cloud that causes temporary blindness and respiratory distress. Non-lethal but extremely effective for crowd control." She produced another vial, this one containing deep purple liquid. "Widow's Tears. Paralytic agent, three-second onset, lasts approximately ten minutes. And this—" she held up a vial of black liquid that seemed to absorb light "—Nightshade Essence. Lethal within thirty seconds, no known antidote."
"You really are a poison artist," Finn said with genuine admiration. "My collection is impressive, but yours is poetry written in toxins."
"Poison is honest," Rhea said simply. "A blade can miss. A poison never lies about what it is or what it does." She looked at him. "What's your approach preference? Silent infiltration or chaos insertion?"
Finn grinned, his ponytail swaying as he tilted his head. "I'm more of a 'controlled chaos' specialist myself. We go in quiet, but the moment things go loud, we make it so loud they can't think straight. Panic and confusion are weapons just as effective as steel or poison."
"Agreed." Rhea studied the building's structure. "Main entrance is too obvious. Side loading dock has a broken lock I can see it from here. They either haven't noticed or they're using it as bait for a trap."
"Trap, definitely trap," Finn said. "But here's the thing about traps they expect you to spring them by accident. What if we spring it on purpose, prepared for what's coming?"
Rhea's lips curved into a slight smile. "I like how you think. We trigger the trap, eliminate the response team, then proceed deeper before they can organize properly."
"Exactly." Finn stood, rolling his shoulders to loosen tense muscles. "Marcus, status check."
The young mage's voice came through the communication spell. "All teams ready. Sera and I are in position at the northern facility. Magnus and Brutus are ready at the eastern docks. Captain Darius is positioned at the guard post. Prince Ethan's team reports—"
"Delayed," Prince Ethan's cold voice cut in. "Minor complication. All other teams proceed as planned."
Finn exchanged a glance with Rhea. Her expression mirrored his concern—a "minor complication" in the noble quarter could mean many things, none of them good.
"Copy that," Finn said. "Rhea and I are moving in thirty seconds."
He looked at her, reading the professional focus in her grey eyes. Over the past weeks, he'd come to respect Rhea's capabilities enormously. She was older, more experienced, and her poison techniques were genuinely terrifying in their sophistication. But more than that, she had the same dark pragmatism he did—an understanding that sometimes protecting the innocent meant becoming a monster yourself.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Always," Rhea replied, already moving toward the building with fluid grace.
They descended from the water tower using a rope Finn had secured earlier, landing silently in the muddy ground. The four visible guards were positioned poorly—too focused on watching the main approaches, not paying enough attention to the sides.
Amateur hour, Finn thought with contempt. Or deliberate negligence to funnel intruders toward the trap.
They reached the loading dock door without being detected. Finn examined it carefully, his nimble fingers tracing the frame, the hinges, the suspiciously broken lock.
"Pressure plate under the threshold," he whispered, pointing to barely visible seams in the wood. "Step through the door, trigger the alarm, probably drops a portcullis or something equally dramatic."
"Can you disable it?" Rhea asked.
"Could, but that defeats our strategy." Finn pulled out a specialized throwing knife, one weighted specifically for this purpose. "Instead, I trigger it from range, we see what the response team looks like, and we educate them on the error of their ways."
Rhea positioned herself in the shadows beside the door, her daggers already coated with Widow's Tears paralytic. "Ready when you are."
Finn took aim at the pressure plate, calculating the angle carefully. Then he threw.
The knife struck true, its weight triggering the mechanism.
CLANG!
A metal portcullis slammed down behind where they would have been standing if they'd entered normally, trapping anyone inside. Simultaneously, alarm bells began ringing throughout the building.
"Contact at the loading dock!" a voice shouted from inside. "All units converge! Potential hostile incursion!"
The door burst open, and eight guards poured out in tactical formation, weapons drawn, faces hard with professional focus.
They found Finn and Rhea waiting.
"Evening, gentlemen," Finn said cheerfully. "Lovely night for a rescue operation, don't you think?"
"Kill them!" the lead guard commanded.
Rhea moved first, her Poison Fang Aura flaring green around her daggers. She flowed into the formation like water through cracks, her blades finding exposed skin with surgical precision. Each cut was shallow she didn't need deep wounds when her poison did the real work.
The first guard received a slash across his forearm. Black veins immediately spread from the cut as Widow's Tears paralytic entered his bloodstream. Within three seconds, his legs gave out and he collapsed, conscious but unable to move, his breathing shallow and labored.
The second guard tried to grab her. Rhea's dagger kissed his throat just a scratch, barely drawing blood. But it was enough. He stumbled backward, the paralytic already shutting down his nervous system.
Meanwhile, Finn danced through the remaining guards like a deadly performer. His daggers flashed in complex patterns, cutting tendons, severing muscles, finding the gaps in armor with supernatural precision.
But unlike Rhea's poison approach, Finn's style was pure mechanical damage precise strikes that disabled without immediately killing. A slash across the back of the knee rendered a leg useless. A cut through shoulder muscles made weapon arms drop. A thrust into the side destroyed the kidney, causing shock and incapacitation.
"Serpent's Breath!" Rhea called out, smashing a vial at the feet of the remaining four guards.
Amber gas erupted, filling the loading dock with choking fumes. The guards immediately began coughing, tears streaming from their burning eyes, their coordination falling apart as respiratory distress set in.
Finn and Rhea moved through the cloud unaffected both had built up immunity to common toxins through years of exposure and finished the disoriented guards efficiently.
Thirty seconds. Eight guards down.
"Not bad," Finn said, wiping his daggers clean. "Though I think you got more than me."
"It's not a competition," Rhea replied, though her slight smile suggested otherwise.
"Everything's a competition," Finn grinned. "That's what makes it fun."
They entered the building, stepping over the fallen portcullis and moving into the main factory floor. The space was huge, filled with rusted machinery and old textile equipment slowly being reclaimed by decay. But the dust patterns told a story—regular foot traffic through specific paths, signs of recent activity despite the abandoned appearance.
"There," Rhea pointed to a section where the dust had been completely disturbed. "Trapdoor entrance to the underground levels."
They approached cautiously, Finn checking for additional traps while Rhea covered their backs. The trapdoor was secured with a heavy iron lock, but that was child's play for someone of Finn's expertise.
His lockpicks danced in the mechanism, feeling for tumblers, reading the lock's secrets through touch alone. Fifteen seconds later, the lock clicked open.
"After you," Finn said, gesturing dramatically.
"How chivalrous," Rhea said dryly, but she descended first, her poison-coated daggers ready.
The underground passage was narrow, lit by flickering torches that cast dancing shadows on stone walls. The air was thick with moisture and something else a smell that made both assassins' stomachs turn.
Blood. Old blood, mixed with chemicals and something acrid that suggested alchemical processes.
They descended two flights of stairs, moving silently through the oppressive darkness. Finn's sharp hearing picked up sounds ahead voices chanting in unison, the crackle of magical energy, and worst of all, the frightened whimpers of children.
The passage opened into a massive underground chamber, and what Finn saw made his blood run cold.
It was a laboratory. A dark magic laboratory.
The room was circular, easily sixty feet across, with arcane symbols carved into the floor in concentric rings. In the center, suspended in magical cages of pure energy, were fourteen children. They floated unconscious, their bodies covered in glowing runes that pulsed with sickly green light.
Around the perimeter, six robed figures chanted in a language Finn didn't recognize. Their hoods obscured their faces, but their hands glowed with the same green energy that covered the children.
And standing at the northern point of the circle, directing the ritual with calm precision, was a woman in crimson robes. Her face was uncovered, revealing aristocratic features and cold amber eyes. Her aura radiated power this was no apprentice mage but a master of dark arts.
"...the essence extraction is proceeding as planned," the woman said to someone Finn couldn't see. "Another hour and the first batch will be ready for shipment. The Velvet Merchant's clients in the eastern territories pay premium prices for children infused with raw magical potential."
"What about side effects?" a male voice asked from the shadows. "The last batch had a thirty percent mortality rate during transport."
"Acceptable losses," the woman replied with chilling indifference. "We factor in wastage. The profit margins remain substantial even with fatalities."
Rhea's hand gripped Finn's arm so hard it hurt. Her face had gone pale with rage, and he could see her Poison Fang Aura beginning to manifest involuntarily, green energy crackling around her fingers.
"Steady," Finn whispered. "We need a plan. That mage is dangerous, and we can't risk the ritual harming the children if we interrupt it wrong."
"Then we don't interrupt it wrong," Rhea said, her voice colder than Finn had ever heard it. "We interrupt it lethally."
She pulled out three vials Serpent's Breath, Widow's Tears, and Nightshade Essence. "The robed chanters first. Poison gas to disrupt their concentration and break the ritual. Then we hit the mage with everything we have before she can retaliate."
"What about the kids in the cages?" Finn asked.
"The cages are pure magical energy they'll dissipate once the mage's concentration breaks or she dies. Either way, we need to end this ritual immediately." Rhea's grey eyes were hard as steel. "These people don't deserve mercy. They deserve extinction."
Finn had seen a lot of darkness in his career as an assassin. He'd killed merchants, nobles, soldiers, criminals. But this experimenting on children, treating them as raw materials for profit this was beyond evil. This was monstrous.
"All teams, this is Finn," he said into the communication spell. "Western industrial has complications. We've found a dark magic laboratory conducting rituals on prisoners. Fourteen children in immediate danger. Engaging hostile forces now."
"Copy," Magnus's voice came back. "Do what you need to do. We'll handle aftermath."
Finn looked at Rhea. "Ready to paint this place red?"
"Red and green," Rhea corrected, her Poison Fang Aura fully manifested now. "Let's show these bastards what real poison looks like."
They moved simultaneously.
Finn's arm blurred as he threw six daggers in rapid succession—two for each of the three nearest chanters. The blades struck necks and eyes, instant kills, perfectly executed.
Rhea smashed all three vials together and hurled them into the center of the chanting circle.
The resulting explosion of mixed toxins was catastrophic.
Amber gas from Serpent's Breath combined with purple mist from Widow's Tears, creating a choking cloud that immediately incapacitated the remaining chanters. But the Nightshade Essence the lethal poison spread through the cloud like death incarnate, turning the paralytic mixture into a killing fog.
The chanters dropped like puppets with cut strings, their bodies convulsing as the toxins ravaged their systems. Within ten seconds, all six were dead.
The ritual circle shattered, green energy dissipating with a sound like breaking glass. The magical cages holding the children flickered and failed, dropping the unconscious kids gently to the ground.
But the crimson-robed mage was already reacting.
"Scutum Ignis!" she shouted, and a sphere of fire erupted around her, incinerating the poison cloud before it could reach her.
She turned to face Finn and Rhea, her amber eyes blazing with fury and power. "You dare interrupt my work? Do you have any idea how expensive those reagents were?"
"Reagents?" Rhea's voice was deadly quiet. "Those are children, you monster."
The mage laughed, a sound devoid of sanity. "Children are just raw materials—flesh and potential waiting to be refined. The Velvet Merchant understands this. His clients in the eastern territories will pay fortunes for children infused with magical essence. It's simply economics."
"Then let me introduce you to a different kind of economics," Finn said, his daggers already flying.
The mage's hand swept up, and a wall of fire blocked the daggers, melting them in mid-flight.
"Pathetic," she sneered. "Did you really think simple steel would-"
Rhea's dagger struck her in the shoulder, the blade coated with concentrated Nightshade Essence.
The mage's eyes widened in shock. "What how did you-''
"While you were monologuing," Rhea said coldly, "I circled behind you. Rule one of combat—never assume you know where all your enemies are."
The mage clutched her shoulder, black veins already spreading from the wound. "Antidote," she gasped. "I need—"
"No antidote exists for Nightshade Essence," Rhea said. "Thirty seconds until respiratory failure. Sixty seconds until cardiac arrest. You have maybe ninety seconds of consciousness left. Use them wisely."
The mage's legs gave out and she collapsed to her knees, her crimson robes pooling around her. Her amber eyes were wide with terror as she felt the poison ravaging her body.
"Who runs this operation?" Finn demanded, moving closer but staying out of reach in case she had a last desperate spell prepared. "Who's the Velvet Merchant?"
"I don't... know..." the mage gasped. "Never seen his face... always masked... operates through intermediaries..."
"Where's his main base?" Rhea pressed. "Where does he keep the records, the client lists?"
"Noble quarter..." the mage wheezed, blood beginning to trickle from her nose. "The Velvet House... but you'll never... get in... elite guards... master mage protecting it... death trap for... anyone who tries..."
"We'll see about that," Finn said.
The mage's eyes were glazing over now, her breathing becoming shallow and erratic. "The children... the ritual was almost complete... their magical potential enhanced tenfold... would have been worth millions..."
"They're not commodities," Rhea said, her voice hard. "They're people. And you died because you forgot that."
The mage tried to say something else, but blood filled her mouth. She convulsed once, twice, then went still, her amber eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.
Finn moved immediately to check the children, his fingers finding pulses, checking breathing, looking for immediate medical concerns.
"They're alive," he reported with relief. "Unconscious but stable. The ritual didn't get far enough to cause permanent damage, I think. But they'll need proper magical healers to remove those runes safely."
Rhea was already searching the laboratory, looking through notes and documents the mage had left behind. Her face grew darker with each page she read.
"Finn," she said, her voice tight with suppressed rage. "You need to see this."
He moved to her side, reading over her shoulder. What he saw made his blood boil.
Client lists. Dozens of names nobles, merchants, military officers, even some clergy. People who had purchased children from the Velvet Merchant's network, with detailed notes about what they wanted them for. Some entries were marked with clinical descriptions: "Raw labor," "Pleasure house material," "Ritual components."
But three entries near the bottom were different. These children had been purchased for magical experimentation specifically, their natural magical potential identified and enhanced through dark rituals before delivery.
And the client name for all three was the same: "Lord Cassius Verne Valisar Noble Quarter."
"Verne," Finn said, recognition dawning. "The same Verne we captured at the Bartion warehouse. He wasn't just running one location he was a client for the experimental children too."
"Which means he knows more than he's told us," Rhea said grimly. "We need to get this information to Prince Ethan immediately."
"All teams, this is Rhea," she said into the communication spell. "Western industrial secure. All hostile forces eliminated six ritual chanters dead, one combat mage neutralized. Fourteen children rescued, but three have been subjected to magical experimentation and will need specialized healing. We've recovered documents with extensive client lists and operational details."
"Copy," Magnus's voice came back. "Secure the documents. Palace guards will pick up prisoners. How bad is the magical damage to the three children?"
Rhea moved to examine them more closely, her expression darkening. "They're covered in runic tattoos that glow with residual magical energy. I don't know enough about magic to assess the damage, but..." She gently touched one child's forehead, and the runes pulsed brighter in response. "They're not just marked, Magnus. They've been fundamentally changed somehow. We need Marcus or someone with real magical expertise to examine them."
"Marcus is with Sera at the northern facility, also dealing with magical complications," Magnus said. "Can the children be safely moved?"
"I think so, but I'm not certain," Rhea admitted. "The runes might be unstable—"
A child's scream cut through the communication.
One of the three magically altered children had woken up. His eyes glowed with the same sickly green energy as the runes covering his body, and magical power was beginning to radiate from him uncontrollably.
"Finn!" Rhea shouted. "The ritual wasn't broken properly—the magical energy is still active in them!"
The child screamed again, his small body convulsing as raw magical energy poured from the glowing runes. Objects around him began to levitate, pulled by uncontrolled telekinetic force. The stone floor cracked beneath him as power surged outward.
"Damn it!" Finn moved toward the child, but a wave of force threw him backward into a wall. He hit hard, the impact driving the air from his lungs.
Rhea tried next, approaching from the side, but the same thing happened—the uncontrolled magic lashing out defensively, throwing her back.
"All teams, we have a critical situation!" Rhea called out desperately. "The ritual left the children magically unstable. One is awake and having what looks like a magical seizure. Uncontrolled power output, telekinetic manifestations, and rising fast. We need a mage here NOW!"
"Marcus and I are fifteen minutes out!" Sera's voice came back. "Can you contain it until we arrive?"
"I don't know how!" Rhea shouted, dodging another blast of force that shattered a section of wall. "We're assassins, not mages! We don't have training for magical containment!"
The child's screams were becoming inhuman now, his voice distorting with magical harmonics. The other two altered children were beginning to glow brighter too, responding to their companion's distress.
"If all three wake up like this," Finn said, pulling himself up from the rubble, "their combined power output could collapse this entire building. We need to evacuate the other children immediately and hope we can keep these three contained until help arrives."
"Agreed," Rhea said, already moving to gather the eleven unaltered children. "But how do we contain something we don't understand?"
As if in answer, the screaming child's power output suddenly spiked. Green energy exploded outward in a shockwave that threw both assassins off their feet and caused the entire underground chamber to shake.
Stone began to fall from the ceiling. Cracks spread across the walls. The structural integrity of the entire building was failing.
"Evacuate!" Finn commanded. "Grab the kids and run!"
They moved with desperate speed, Finn scooping up two children under each arm while Rhea did the same. They ran for the stairs even as the ceiling began to collapse behind them.
Behind them, the three magically altered children remained in the chamber, their combined power growing exponentially as they fed off each other's distress.
The underground laboratory was tearing itself apart, and there was nothing Finn and Rhea could do but run and pray that Marcus arrived before the whole structure came down on top of those three innocent, magically corrupted children.
"All teams," Finn gasped into the communication spell as they burst from the underground passage into the factory above. "Western industrial is collapsing. Structural failure from uncontrolled magical discharge. We're evacuating with eleven children, but three remain trapped below with unstable magical conditions. If Marcus doesn't get here in the next five minutes, those three are lost."
"I'm coming," Marcus's breathless voice came back. "Sera and I are running full speed. Just... just hold on. Keep them alive. I'll fix this. I swear I'll fix this."
Finn and Rhea emerged from the building into the night air, carrying the unconscious children to safety. Behind them, the factory groaned and shuddered as the underground laboratory tore itself apart.
They laid the children on the ground at a safe distance and turned to watch the building, both knowing they should go back in, both knowing it would be suicide.
"Those three kids," Finn said quietly. "If they die because we couldn't contain the magic..."
"They won't," Rhea said with fierce determination. "Marcus will get here. He'll save them. He has to."
But even as she said it, another shockwave erupted from underground, and an entire section of the factory collapsed inward with a deafening crash.
The screaming from below had stopped.
Either the children had lost consciousness from magical exhaustion...
Or they were already dead.
To Be Continued in Chapter 36...