In the Uptown District: Ivory Heights
Sir Isaac had summoned him.
The man was middle-aged, though time had not been kind. His once-dark hair had retreated steadily over the years, surrendering ground at the temples until only a thin, stubborn fringe remained—less a hairstyle and more a last stand against gravity.
His posture told an even sadder story. Years of study, comfort, and excessive sitting had done their work. His shoulders sloped forward, his back curved, his entire figure resembling an old, overread book left open too long on a crowded shelf.
"Sir, you called?"
"Yes, I did, you fool! What took you so long?"
Sir Isaac's sharp gaze locked onto Ledger. His hand tightened around the armrest of his chair, knuckles paling. He looked… agitated. More than usual.
Ledger sighed internally.
He had just been dragged out of a rather pleasant dream—one in which he'd been living comfortably in this old geezer's position. Then reality returned. And with it, a full sprint up the mansion's winding stairs, followed by a room-by-room search just to locate the man who insisted on changing locations like a paranoid ghost.
"Sir Isaac," Ledger began carefully, bowing, "I was monitoring the hedges this morning as you instructed and rushed here the moment you called my name. However…"
He paused just long enough to sound respectful.
"…given the size of your estate—an impressive reflection of your success—it took some time to reach you."
He bowed deeper, posture humble.
Inside, however, his thoughts were anything but.
Imbecile.
These stairs alone could cripple a trained soldier. What do you think I am? Some cultivation expert sprinting up mountains for fun?
For a brief, dangerous moment, he imagined grabbing the old man and shaking him until his remaining hair resigned out of solidarity.
Unfortunately, patience was required.
Otherwise, all this waiting… all this planning… would be wasted.
And right now, he definitely didn't have the stamina for murder.
"I suppose that is true," Sir Isaac muttered, waving the matter away. "Forget it."
He leaned forward slightly.
"The guest tomorrow will not be coming. I want you to collect more of the talismans I requested from the madame."
He paused, then added:
"And prepare the library. I will be contacting outside help… to deal with the thing downstairs."
His fingers moved to his chin, scratching absently as he fell into thought.
Ledger froze.
Not because he didn't understand.
But because he did.
Is it time?
Already?
Did he finally lose it?
A series of increasingly pleasant thoughts flashed through his mind, each one brighter than the last.
He could practically see the numbers.
Multiple zeros.
Stacked neatly.
Finally arriving in his long-neglected, dust-filled account.
The turning point.
The core of the entire operation.
"Sir… you mean the shaman?" Ledger asked, his voice trembling slightly.
Fear. Confusion. A touch of horror.
His acting was flawless.
At the same time, his eyes subtly examined Sir Isaac's head.
…Was he always this bald?
He was certain there had been more hair before.
Perhaps even his hair knew when to withdraw with dignity.
"In the basement," Sir Isaac said quietly, still distracted.
His hands had begun to tremble.
"The wailing… the screeching… it has intensified. The voices…" His shiver worsened. "They're clearer now."
He swallowed.
"But it matters little. The talismans I purchased should hold it for some time. Long enough for the shaman to arrive."
"Of course, my lord," Ledger replied immediately.
This time, the smile on his face was almost genuine.
Middle Town District – Near Azone Fields
Life here moved at a steady, practical pace.
Nothing glamorous. Nothing dramatic.
Just survival, routine, and people minding their own business.
Sebastian lay sprawled across his bed, staring at the ceiling.
His expression hovered somewhere between physical discomfort and quiet sadness.
The discomfort came from hunger.
The sadness came from the news.
His father—officially still listed as missing—would remain publicly branded a terrorist. No investigation reopened. No name cleared.
And unlike the previous disappearance…
This one felt permanent.
After all, no one returned from beyond the mist.
The boundary that protected the safe zones from the Scorched Barrens worked both ways.
Once you crossed it, you didn't come back.
His father had been a naval officer. One of the best. Sent west, across the violent seas toward the feral territories.
The outer edges of those lands were frozen solid—cliffs of ice, sheets impossible to climb.
Yet somehow, people still called it the Scorched Barrens.
Sebastian snorted.
Who names these places?
As for his father…
Missing.
Declared dead.
Or worse—officially marked as a traitor to be eliminated on sight.
A decorated captain.
Now a criminal.
The words didn't sit right.
He pushed himself out of bed.
The first stop was the shower—to clear his head.
The second was the kitchen—to negotiate peace with his stomach, which had apparently declared independence overnight. The growling was aggressive enough that he briefly wondered if it might evolve into speech.
The shower was quick.
Breakfast was quicker.
Cereal. Ice-cold milk. The only correct way.
Warm milk was a crime.
He sat in front of the television, trying to follow the morning news while eating.
He had just started settling into the rhythm when his phone rang.
Mom.
"Morning, Mom."
"Hello, Seb. I hope you've eaten."
"Currently doing so," he replied, squinting at the scrolling headlines.
"You doing okay?" he asked.
"No need to worry. I just called to check on you—and to remind you to focus on your studies."
A short pause.
"And if you're asking about your father… well."
Her voice softened slightly.
"Let's say his previous disappearances have trained me to expect him back eventually. That man is impossible to kill. A cockroach, really."
Sebastian smiled.
"I guess that's true."
He shoveled another spoonful in.
"Uh… Mom. About joining the—"
"No, Seb."
The interruption was immediate.
Firm.
"Focus on your studies. The military isn't what they're making it look like right now."
She exhaled slowly.
"Recruitment has become easier for a reason. Especially the navy. It's dangerous. Even support staff aren't safe anymore."
Her tone cooled.
"Just do your best. Study hard. Good grades. A good university. You need to put everything into it."
Sebastian didn't respond.
He understood why she was worried.
Entry requirements had dropped dramatically. Anyone with decent scores could apply now. The pay was high.
Too high.
And when something paid that well…
It usually meant the risk was worse than advertised.
The call ended with a series of good wishes.
Sebastian stared at his phone afterward.
That sounded like a "something bad might happen today" speech.
He sighed.
Uniform on.
Bag ready.
Destination:
Phoenix High Wing.