Rosacer slipped into the dim back room where Michael kept his tools. Dust drifted lazily in the lantern light. On the workbench lay the resin-coated gloves, stiff and dark, their surface slightly glossy like hardened sap. He picked one up and tested the texture between his fingers. It felt tacky, almost alive, meant to cling to wooden beams and the smooth balcony rail.
He slid his hands into them, flexing his fingers. The material tightened around his skin, gripping just enough to assure him it would hold his weight. As he curled and uncurled his fists, Rosacer felt the quiet assurance of preparedness settle into him. The climb would be difficult, but with these gloves, it was no longer impossible.
Slowly the room went dark, then with a blink the whole room lit up again, but this time there was no inside. The tables and chairs were empty.
On a misty night, in the yard of a house blanketed with menacing flowers, a four-legged creature darted about with frantic speed. Suddenly, it halted, ears pricked, eyes clouded by the fog. Its black skin blended seamlessly with the darkness, the faint glimmer of reddish eyes the only sign that it was a creature.
It looked around, analyzing the air as it sensed something. A low growl stirred in its throat, but nothing moved in the mist. After a tense moment, it snorted and resumed its walk as if nothing had happened.
Hidden behind the garden wall, Rosacer released the breath he had been holding. He waited for the hound's steps to fade, then leaned forward and placed his gloved hand on the damp stone. The resin clung firmly, allowing him to slip over the wall without a sound.
Inside the yard, the air felt colder. Thick vines crawled up the walls of the house, their leaves trembling as if aware of his presence. Rosacer kept himself low, moving between the shadows cast by the twisted flowers. The scent of herbs and bitter roots filled the air, heavy and unsettling.
Ahead, Neb's signal flickered through the mist. A faint gesture near the back corner, barely visible unless one knew where to look. Rosacer shifted his weight and crept toward him.
Neb lifted the loose plank exactly as planned. Beneath it, the narrow ventilation shaft yawned like a throat carved into the wood.
Rosacer nodded once.
Neb whispered, barely audible, "Hurry. The hound will circle back."
Rosacer crouched, slid into the shaft, and felt the cold wood press against his shoulders. The world behind him disappeared as he crawled forward, deeper into the heart of Fea's house, where the statue waited.
Rosacer emerged from the ventilation shaft into the storage room, landing softly on the wooden floor. The air smelled of dried roots and stale herbs, shelves packed with jars that glimmered faintly in the moonlight seeping through a thin window. He took a moment to steady his breathing. Every sound felt exaggerated here.
The resin-coated gloves held firm as he moved toward the kitchen arch. Above it, the support beam stretched across the room. He reached up, fingers clinging with a tacky grip, and began to climb. The beam creaked softly under his weight but did not break. Inch by inch, he pulled himself toward the balcony rail on the second floor.
The upstairs hallway was still. A single lantern burned weakly behind Fea's bedroom door, casting a slice of yellow light along the floor. Rosacer remained motionless until he heard the faint rhythm of her sleep. Only then did he move.
The glass case sat on a velvet cloth inside the study, just as Michael had described. The tiny figurine of the winged man gleamed with a dark sheen, as if carved from shadow itself. Rosacer approached it with careful steps.
He withdrew the smooth wooden wedge and slid it beneath the base of the case. The glass rose bit by bit without tilting. He placed his free hand on the rim, holding it steady. The tension lock did not trigger.
With a soft lift, Rosacer removed the case completely. His heart thudded once, sharp and heavy, but nothing stirred in the room.
Neb's cloth waited in his pocket. He wrapped it around his hand and gently picked up the Dark Messiah statue. It was colder than expected, as if it had never belonged to the world of warm living things.
A faint whisper brushed past his ear. Perhaps it was only the rustling of curtains, but Rosacer did not linger.
He replaced the glass in its original position, aligning it perfectly. Nothing appeared disturbed.
Then he moved to the balcony window. The latch clicked open with almost no resistance. Outside, the night wind pressed against him, pushing mist into his lungs.
Rosacer climbed down the vine carefully. The gloves held to the stems, allowing him to lower himself without slipping. Halfway down, he heard the hound growl somewhere in the yard. Its claws scraped the soil as it sniffed the air, confused.
Rosacer reached the ground and melted into the shadows of the back wall. He paused only long enough to ensure the hound had turned away, then slipped through the alley and vanished into the night.
Moments later he emerged onto Cornwall Street, the statue secured in his hand.
House Ten waited ahead, its light dim but steady.
The theft was complete.
His footsteps clattered on the street pavement as he moved through the silent road. He did not know what kind of signal Josan had given. He had not even seen Michael during the whole act. In the end, it had been only him and Neb.
But as soon as he exited Fea's vicinity, Neb was gone too. They were supposed to meet in House Ten, so it was not entirely strange. Even so, they would need to leave the southern sector soon. The hunting party would be deployed once Fea discovered the theft.
He opened the door in front of him, his eyes flickering across the grotesque paintings inside.
'The Flower Man… huh?' he muttered inwardly.
The scent from Fea's yard still clung to him, heavy and sickly sweet. His clothes carried it clearly, but he ignored it as he stepped deeper into the room. The symbols etched on the door inside remained as esoteric as when he had first seen them.
He stood before it, grasping the knob to open it. He half expected to see his teammates, yet a small doubt lingered in his heart.
'They should already be inside...' he hoped silently.