Josan sat across from her. Elizabeth felt her eyes quiver, yet she did not allow it to surface in her voice.
In a steady, stern tone, she asked, "Why did you bring me here?"
She knew she could not fight her way out, not now. Patience was her only means of escape.
The dark walls, veined with spreading yellow fungus, loomed oppressively. If there was a window, it was hidden entirely, swallowed by rot and shadow.
Josan finally spoke. His nose twitched slightly, as though he were scenting something unseen in the air.
"I need you to repay me."
He extended a finger and pointed toward the small statue resting on the table between them.
"Do you know the tale of the Black Angel?"
Without waiting for her response, he continued.
"The Black Angel, herald of death, was sent by the Death God to the mortal world. His purpose was to guide humanity, to teach them the true essence of death, and to spread his god's gospel."[1]
Josan's voice lowered.
"Instead, he was captured. Bound. Stripped of divinity, and transformed into a machine that exhales miasma without end."
His gaze hardened.
"Such was the fate of one beloved by a god."
He leaned forward and touched the small statue. Dark miasma seeped from its surface, curling into the air.
"This is one of those statues. It contains the angel's soul. There are ten in total, and the Mist City holds one such relic. It is currently in the possession of Opelia's servant, Fea of Wald."
His voice grew grimmer.
"But I do not need you to steal it for me. No. That would be far too much to ask of a peddler who has only just entered the city."
"I need you to get close to Fea. She is alone, and quite lonely."
"What? Why?" Elizabeth blurted out.
His reply came calmly. "I only want her to be happy. That is enough to repay the favor, is it not? It is not even particularly dangerous."
As he spoke, Josan produced a parchment and slid it across the table toward Elizabeth.
"Here is her routine. Make the encounter an accident. It will serve as a better disguise. How you do it is up to you."
Elizabeth slowly took the parchment, fully aware that touching it meant accepting the task. She did not feel she had any real choice. The man before her was not only far stronger than she was, but clearly weaving a design far beyond her understanding. She was a pawn, and knowing it changed nothing.
"All right. That will be all," Josan said calmly. "We may meet again, Ms. Sleep."
He flicked his wrist once more. Purple flames burst forth, and the world dimmed abruptly as her vision began to fade.
When she opened her eyes again, she was standing outside the room she had rented.
"A death angel…" she murmured inwardly as she stepped inside.
The room was sparse. A single bed stood against the wall beside a small table. One of the drawers had been left open. Inside lay a pouch, nearly empty, containing only a few dried red mushrooms.
She dispelled the ritualistic magic surrounding the table. As the spell unraveled, several items slipped out from concealed space.
A blackened tooth, sagging gland taken from some unknown creature and several strands of hair.
She closed the pouch and carefully gathered the items, transferring them into another sack.
Then she spread the parchment flat across the table.
It read:
"Fea lives on Serec Street, House Sixty-Eight, in the Southern Sector. She works as a herbalist for Opelia and shares her home with a hound named Flesh Wretch. Recently, both she and the hound were badly injured during a robbery. The perpetrator has since been dealt with."
Another line followed.
"She usually gathers marine herbs along the deck, but due to her recent injuries, she now stays closer to her master."
The rest of the parchment contained basic notes. Her daily routine. Places she frequented. Small, ordinary preferences.
Elizabeth let out a slow breath. "Looks like it's up to me to figure it out…"
A strand of her hair fell loose as a draft passed through the room. She noticed immediately, bent down, and picked it up. Without hesitation, she dropped it into the same sack that held the ritual materials, then tied it shut.
After that, she quickly pulled out a fresh parchment and wrote:
"Warren Dunn has been dealt with. I am currently tied up in a personal matter. I will reach out when the time comes."
She folded the paper and shaped it into an origami rat. Using one of her strands of hair, she murmured a chant in an ancient tongue. The paper twitched, then stirred to life, scampering toward the window.
It slipped through the open frame and vanished into the fog beyond.
The paper rat scurried through narrow alleys and over damp stone, moving with purpose rather than instinct. It avoided torchlight, slipped past boots and wheels, and finally vanished beneath the steps of a quiet, abandoned chapel.
Inside, the air was cold and still.
A woman stood near the broken altar, draped in black robes that absorbed what little light remained. Her hair was a soft shade of pink, falling loosely over her shoulders, and her eyes were a clear, striking blue that caught the rat the moment it entered.
It stopped.
Slowly, she knelt.
"Quite fast." she said softly.
The rat twitched, then climbed onto the stone step before her. Its paper body unfolded on its own, creases loosening as the message revealed itself. The woman read in silence, her eyes moving steadily across the words.
When she finished, the parchment burned away without flame, turning to ash in her palm.
"Warren Dunn," she murmured. "So, it is done."
The rat remained, waiting.
She reached out and gently touched it with one finger. The magic binding it unraveled, and the origami collapsed into an ordinary scrap of paper.
The woman rose to her feet, her expression calm but thoughtful.
"A personal affair," she said to the empty chapel. "Be careful, Elizabeth."
She turned, her robes whispering softly against the stone floor, and disappeared into the shadows, leaving nothing behind but cold air and fading ash.
A paper crane cut swiftly through the darkness of the chapel, a small sack bound beneath its wings.
It released the burden above the broken altar.
The crane stiffened midair, its motion faltering, and then drifted down lifelessly as its task came to an end.
The sack struck the stone with a dull sound and split open.
Inside lay a severed head.
[1] If someone forgets about the statues, I suggest re-reading a few chapters.