Dawn stretched across the horizon like molten gold, spilling light into the streets of the small town I had claimed without a name. The city itself remained unaware of the shadow that moved among them. Lanterns extinguished overnight, children still asleep, merchants already preparing for the day. Ordinary. Predictable. Safe. For now.
I walked the streets quietly, Voraciel sheathed on my back, cheap sword at my side. The whisper returned, faint and patient: "…kill." Not a command. Not a demand. Observation first. Patience always.
Every movement, every sound, every shadow told a story. Guards followed predictable patterns, merchants neglected minor locks, citizens unconsciously revealed their routines. Mistakes are everywhere, hidden in plain sight. Observation pays dividends. Knowledge is power. Patience sharpens intent.
By midday, the town was fully awake. Merchants shouted prices, children ran through puddles, soldiers strode confidently, believing themselves vigilant. Ordinary mistakes stacked like kindling for fire. I did not act immediately. Not yet. Observation comes first.
From a vantage point atop a shuttered roof, I mapped supply routes, guard rotations, and hidden alleyways. Voraciel pulsed faintly in my mind, responding to intent rather than action. The whisper pressed at the edges of my thoughts: "…kill."
I ignored it. Patience. Observation. Calculation. Intent.
Evening brought shadows that stretched unnaturally, distorted by flickering lanterns. I positioned myself near the warehouse district, where guards were distracted and shipments stacked in neat, predictable rows. Three men carried crates down an alley. I had studied their every step, every micro-movement. Predictable. Mistakes waiting to be exploited.
"…kill—Crimson Tide."
The words left my lips softly. The sword responded instantly, alive, humming faintly with warmth. Shadows shifted subtly, guided by intent. The first man staggered, disoriented. His companions froze, hesitation making them clumsy. Controlled. Precise. Efficient. Bloodlust, refined.
By the time the last man collapsed, unconscious, the alley was silent. My breathing was slow, measured. Voraciel hummed faintly, patient and alive. Observation is always cheaper than interference. No one noticed. Ordinary. Predictable. Safe. For now.
I withdrew into the deeper streets, unseen, unnoticed. Merchants closed shops, children whispered indoors, soldiers patrolled with arrogance born of ignorance. Ordinary mistakes. Ordinary people. Predictable. Observation pays more than action, always.
I climbed to a rooftop overlooking the market square. Patterns emerged in the ordinary chaos. Guards glanced too often at the sky, merchants lingered in conversation too long, children drifted into alleys for no reason other than curiosity. Every flaw is a potential tool. Every mistake a seed of control. Voraciel pulsed faintly in response to my mind. The whisper came again: "…kill."
Not yet. Patience. Observation. Calculation. Intent.
By midnight, the town was asleep again. Lanterns flickered in empty streets, windows closed, the river carrying a faint chill through the alleys. I stood above the central plaza, mapping exits, observing supply stores, guard rotations, merchant houses, every detail memorized. Observation is preparation. Patience is power. Intent is everything.
Voraciel hummed faintly, the warmth in my hands responsive to the planning, the intent, the careful patience. Bloodlust grows when refined, controlled, deliberate. The whisper softened: "…wait." Not now. Not yet.
I descended from the roof, cheap sword brushing against my thigh. Bread purchased. Coins counted. Routine maintained. Ordinary. Unremarkable. Invisible. Yet the thrill remained, faint, sharp. Voraciel had acknowledged my presence. The whisper confirmed it. Alive. Patient. Watching.
The first step beyond Merrow had become the foundation for something larger. Cities are predictable if you know how to read them. People are ordinary, their mistakes everywhere. And the shadow that moves among them is patient, watching, waiting.
"…kill."
Not now. Not yet. Patience first. Observation always. Calculation guides intent.
The world sleeps, unaware. And I am just beginning.