Blackwall had become a cage of iron and light. Following the explosion at the Willer Guild Vault, the City Watch and the 'Gold-Plated' mercenaries had established a total blockade of the High District. Mana-scanning pylons—tall, vibrating needles of copper and crystal—had been erected at every major intersection, their beams of blue light sweeping the streets like the eyes of a hungry predator. The Academy had declared a state of "Magical Insurrection," and anyone found with a mana-signature above a commoner's flickering spark was being detained for questioning.
Inside Silas's darkened workshop, Kael Light adjusted the new grey cloak the Artificer had provided. This one was lined with lead-thread and woven with dampening runes, a second layer of defense to complement his new Stasis Ring.
The ring itself, the 'Reforged Sun,' sat heavy on his finger. The starlight from the Star-Core was a constant, cooling presence, acting as a filter for the God's chaotic shadow. For the first time in months, Kael felt a sense of clarity. The "Stable Agony" was still there, but it was no longer a storm; it was a cold, deep current that he could direct.
"The city is a sieve, Kael," Silas whispered, his brass eye clicking as he adjusted a lens. "Every rat-hole and sewer pipe is being watched. Sam Willer isn't just protecting his gold anymore; he's protecting his life. He's moved to 'The Gilded Manor' on the Northern Heights. It's a fortress within a fortress."
"He can hide behind all the iron in the world," Kael said, his voice quiet and resonant. "It won't stop the moon from rising."
Kael walked to the door of the workshop. Before he could push it open, a soft, rhythmic tapping came from the other side. A code.
Silas opened the door, and the young boy Kael had healed—the one Silas called Pip—slipped inside. The boy looked energized, his eyes bright with a fervor that was shared by many in the Gut.
"The way is clear to the docks," Pip whispered, his breath coming in excited puffs. "The 'Little Suns' are in position."
Kael knelt to the boy's level. "Little Suns?"
"That's what they're calling themselves," Silas explained, a rare smile touching his scarred lips. "The people you healed... the ones who have a trace of your 'White Sun' mana left in their blood. They found they can feel you, Kael. And more importantly, they can feel the guards' mana-pylons before they even see them."
Kael closed his eyes and extended his senses. Now that his own mana was stabilized, he could feel it too—hundreds of tiny, flickering embers scattered throughout the darkness of the city. They were the people he had saved in the infirmaries, the laborers in the foundries, and the children in the slums. His magic had left a mark, a resonance that had created an accidental network of loyalty.
"Lead the way, Pip," Kael said.
The journey through the lower districts was a masterclass in urban guerrilla movement. Pip didn't lead him through the main tunnels. Instead, they moved through crawlspaces, abandoned coal chutes, and the hollowed-out walls of tenement buildings.
Every few hundred yards, they would encounter a "Little Sun." An old man sitting on a stoop would cough twice, indicating a patrol was passing a street away. A laundry girl hanging sheets would wave a white cloth, signaling that a mana-pylon's beam was currently facing the other direction.
Kael was amazed. These people, who had been treated as refuse by the Willer Guild for years, were now the most effective intelligence network in the kingdom. They didn't have spells or swords, but they had eyes that saw everything and a silence that Sam Willer's gold couldn't buy.
As they reached the border between the Gut and the High District, Kael felt the resonance of a larger ember. Martha was waiting in the shadows of an old aqueduct, her hands wrapped in a shawl.
"Saint," she whispered as Kael approached. She didn't bow; she reached out and touched his sleeve with the familiarity of a mother. "The Northern Heights are crawling with Academy mages. They've set up a 'Mana-Null' field around the Gilded Manor. If you try to cast a spell within a mile of the gates, the alarm will ring in the High Overseer's office."
"Then I won't use magic," Kael said.
"You'll have to," Martha said, her expression turning grave. "Sam has hired the 'Silver-Tongued Killers'—mercenaries from the desert who use poisoned needles and shadow-stepping. They don't have mana signatures. They're ghosts, just like you."
Kael looked up toward the Northern Heights. The Gilded Manor sat on a cliff overlooking the sea, a sprawling estate of white marble and glass that looked like a temple dedicated to greed. He could feel Sam's presence there—a cold, anxious knot of energy that was desperately trying to hide behind walls of steel.
"I need to get to the cliffside," Kael said to Pip and Martha. "If I can climb the rock face, I can bypass the main gates and the null-field."
"The cliff is a death trap," Pip said. "It's two hundred feet of sheer granite, and the sea at the bottom is full of jagged reefs. Even the smugglers won't touch it."
BUT WE AREN'T SMUGGLERS, ARE WE? the God laughed in Kael's mind. WE ARE THE BREAKERS. THE CLIMBERS. THE CRACKING BONE.
"I've survived worse than a cliff," Kael said.
He turned to the people gathered in the shadow of the aqueduct. There were dozens of them now, watching him with eyes full of hope and terror. He felt the weight of their expectations. To them, he was a savior. To Sam, he was a monster. To himself, he was still just a boy who missed the smell of the jungle.
"Why are you doing this?" Kael asked Martha. "The Guild will execute anyone caught helping me."
Martha looked at the high towers of the city, then back at Kael. "For ten years, Sam Willer has told us that we are the fuel for his fire. He told us that our poverty was a natural law, as fixed as the stars. Then you came. You healed us without asking for a copper. You showed us that the light doesn't belong to the Guild." She gripped Kael's hand. "We aren't helping a monster, Saint. We're helping ourselves. We're reminding the city that the sun rises for everyone."
Kael felt a lump in his throat. He leaned forward and kissed Martha's forehead, leaving a faint, shimmering trace of golden warmth on her skin.
"The sun will rise tomorrow," Kael promised. "I'll make sure of it."
He vanished into the mist of the lower docks, moving toward the base of the Northern Heights.
The climb was a grueling test of his new physical limits. Because the Stasis Ring was suppressing his mana, he had to rely entirely on his muscular reinforcement. Every time he gripped a ledge, he felt the 'Stable Agony' vibrate, his bones groaning under the strain. The wind whipped at his cloak, and the salt spray from the Azure Sea below made the granite slick and treacherous.
Halfway up the cliff, he felt a sharp, cold presence.
He didn't hear a sound, but his instincts—honed by the Emerald Jungle—screamed a warning. He tilted his head just as a silver needle whistled past his ear, embedding itself into the rock with a metallic thunk.
The Silver-Tongued Killers.
Kael didn't look for them. He closed his eyes and looked for the "absence" of mana. He felt three cold spots on the cliff face, moving with a predatory grace that matched his own. They were wearing 'Void-Silk'—a material that absorbed all light and sound.
One of the killers lunged from a ledge above, a curved kris blade aimed at Kael's neck.
Kael didn't use a spell. He didn't have the mana to spare. He reached out and grabbed the killer's wrist. The man was fast, but Kael was an immortal engine of reconstruction. He twisted the wrist until the bone snapped, then tossed the man into the abyss.
The killer didn't scream. He vanished into the dark waves below in silence.
The other two killers hesitated. They hadn't expected a "mage" to be a physical powerhouse. Kael used their hesitation to vault up onto the next ledge. He was twenty feet from the top—the gardens of the Gilded Manor.
"Sam!" Kael roared, his voice carrying over the sound of the crashing waves.
He didn't care about stealth anymore. He wanted Sam to hear him. He wanted the Merchant to feel the vibration of the coming storm.
He reached the top and hauled himself over the marble railing of the garden. He stood in a forest of imported roses and manicured hedges. The 'Mana-Null' field was thick here, a suffocating pressure that made his Stasis Ring glow a dull, angry red.
At the end of the garden path stood the manor. Its glass windows were dark, but Kael could see the movement of shadows inside.
Suddenly, the garden lights flared to life.
Standing on the balcony of the second floor was Sam Willer. He wasn't wearing his merchant's robes. He was wearing a suit of 'Age of Ash' plate armor, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword that pulsed with a dark, violet light—a weapon forged from the same obsidian as the sarcophagus in Aethelgard.
"You just don't know when to die, do you, Kael?" Sam called down, his voice amplified by a mana-horn. He looked terrified, but behind the terror was a desperate, cornered aggression.
"The exchange wasn't finished, Sam," Kael said, walking slowly down the garden path. Every step he took left a scorched footprint on the perfect white marble. "You forgot the interest."
"I have an army, Kael!" Sam screamed, gesturing to the windows where dozens of Academy mages and Royal Guards were appearing. "I have the King's seal! I have the wealth of the world! What do you have?"
Kael stopped at the base of the balcony. He looked at the Stasis Ring on his finger. He felt the full moon, only two nights away, pulling at the God inside him. He felt the "Little Suns" in the city below, their flickering embers giving him a strength that Sam would never understand.
"I have the truth, Sam," Kael said. "And the truth is, you're still just a scared little man in a golden cage."
With a flick of his wrist, Kael channeled a burst of "White Sun" energy into the Stasis Ring. He didn't try to break the 'Mana-Null' field. He overloaded it.
The garden erupted in a shower of sparks as the defensive pylons melted under the sudden surge of primordial power. The suffocation vanished. Kael's mana flared, his four golden-violet rings materializing behind him with a roar that shattered the manor's windows.
"I'm coming in, Sam," Kael said. "Try to stop me."
Sam stumbled back into the darkness of the manor as the guards began to pour into the garden.