'No! Our Slates are inside.'
Vinelyn was already moving, reacting first.
Under his breath he muttered unfamiliar words as he pulled a sheet of white, faintly glowing paper from his pouch. A pen seemed to appear in his fingers as if summoned from thin air, its tip gliding quickly across the page as he traced a series of complicated symbols.
Before the others could ask anything, he struck a match and touched it to the paper.
It caught instantly.
Thin grey smoke began curling from the paper containing the symbols. Vinelyn crouched and slid the smoldering sheet beneath the door. Then he brought his hands together, thumbs touching while his palms formed a small triangle. Bowing his head, he whispered several more words before lifting his eyes.
"You can proceed," he said calmly to Mihel and Riche.
Neither of them had their weapons with them, which made the situation feel far more dangerous. Still, hearing Vinelyn's steady command gave them courage.
They pushed the door open.
Thick grey smoke rolled out to greet them, swirling in slow spirals that filled the room. The burning paper had nearly turned to ash, yet the smoke continued to pour from it unnaturally.
Through the haze came the sound of heavy coughing near the cot.
Riche glanced at Mihel and gave a sharp nod. Then he rushed forward.
Curiously, the smoke seemed to part around the two of them as they advanced, but the figure ahead was completely swallowed by the grey cloud.
Riche leapt.
He slammed into the intruder and drove him to the floor. Up close, he saw the strange mask covering the man's face. One side of it was white, the other black, the colors twisting together in a swirl. Through narrow eye slits, a pair of bright green eyes flashed with panic.
The man grunted and struggled violently beneath him, kicking and twisting as Riche tried to tear the mask free.
Across the room, Mihel had already drawn Chamynos Fios from under his cot.
The black blade slid from its sheath with a quiet whisper, its dark surface catching the dim light.
"AAGH!" the masked man shouted as he spotted the sword.
With a sudden burst of strength he wrenched himself free from Riche and sprang backward, drawing two gleaming daggers from his belt.
"What is this smoke?!" he shouted as more tendrils of Vinelyn's grey mist curled around his legs, clinging to him like living ropes.
Mihel charged.
The intruder moved fast, far faster than Mihel expected. He twisted aside, knocking Mihel's blade upward with one dagger and driving the other into Mihel's side in a sharp jab.
Pain flared as the dagger dug deep.
At that exact moment an arrow whistled through the air. It struck the man's hand with a wet crunch.
He cried out as the arrow buried itself deep in his wrist, forcing him to drop one of the daggers as blood spilled across the floor.
Halise stood in the doorway, bow raised, another arrow already drawn and aimed.
Riche recovered instantly. With a fierce shout he drew his twin cleavers, Mundo and Mitad, and charged again alongside Mihel, who forced himself forward despite the pain.
Mihel's blade came down hard onto the man's shoulder.
At the same instant Riche drove both cleavers toward the man's abdomen.
Another arrow screamed through the air.
The intruder should have been finished.
He was already bound in place by Vinelyn's smoke, its tendrils coiling tightly around his legs like ropes anchoring him to the ground. And then something changed.
Mihel felt it before he saw it.
The air around the man shifted, as if the pressure in the room had suddenly dropped. Beneath the black fabric of the intruder's clothing, a glowing symbol flared to life. A roughly drawn diamond, all four sides glowing.
For a heartbeat, everything felt wrong.
Then the tide turned.
In a blur the man twisted aside, ducking beneath Mihel's descending blade. Halise's arrow struck the sword instead with a sharp clang, deflecting its path.
At the same moment Vinelyn's smoke suddenly whipped around Riche's leg and yanked him violently to the floor.
The masked man straightened with unnatural speed.
Before anyone could react, he dashed toward the small window beside the cot and hurled himself through it.
Glass shattered.
Mihel staggered upright and rushed to the window, gripping the frame as he looked down.
The street below was empty. Strangely dark.
The lanterns that had been glowing moments earlier now stood cold and lifeless.
Mihel blinked and rubbed his eyes.
When he looked again, the lanterns burned normally, their warm light spilling across the street.
He frowned.
'What…?Am I losing my mind?I could have sworn they were dark…'
The others rushed into the room at once, quickly searching every corner for signs of other intruders.
Mihel stepped away from the shattered window, shaking his head. "He got away," he said grimly. "There's no signs of him on the street either."
Riche hauled himself to his feet, breathing hard. He turned sharply toward Vinelyn, one of his cleavers lifting slightly in accusation.
"What was that, Magician?" he snapped. "Your smoke trick just threw me to the ground. We had him cornered."
Vinelyn looked just as stunned as everyone else. He shook his head slowly. "I don't know what happened either. The moment that blue light appeared… I lost control of the smoke."
He raised two fingers toward the open window.
Instantly, the grey mist obeyed. It rushed outward like a flock of birds taking flight, pouring through the broken frame and clearing the room in seconds.
"I only regained control after he jumped," Vinelyn finished quietly.
Mihel suddenly coughed.
A dark splash of blood stained his hand.
He lifted his shirt slightly and looked down. A deep cut ran along his side where the dagger had struck.
Midia's eyes widened the moment she saw it.
"Oh Magic… that's deep," she said, rushing forward. "We need to clean that right now. Why is it always you who ends up bleeding in every fight?"
She hurried into the washroom and turned on the tap.
For a moment thick yellow water sputtered out, foul and murky. Then it cleared into something slightly less questionable. Good enough for the moment.
Mihel gave a weak smile. "Believe me, it's not intentional. Next time I'll politely ask the enemy to stab Riche instead."
Midia shot him an unimpressed glance while soaking a cloth.
"Very funny."
She returned and carefully cleaned the wound, wiping away the blood before tearing a strip of cloth and wrapping it tightly around his side.
"That should hold for tonight," she said, tying the knot firmly. "You take the cot and rest. Tomorrow we'll tell Mister Kidt about this. We need to get out of this miserable hole as soon as possible."
With that she turned and headed back toward her room, Halise following close behind.
Riche lingered a moment longer.
"She's right," he said quietly. "Get some sleep. Vinelyn and I will go talk to that chubby fellow downstairs."
Without waiting for a reply, he stepped out and shut the door behind him.
The room finally fell silent.
Mihel slowly walked over to his pack and opened it.
A soft glow greeted him from within. His Slate.
He let out a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
'We arrived just in time. If that thief had gotten his hands on this…'
Mihel closed the pack gently, exhaustion suddenly crashing over him like a wave.
He lay down on the cot, the stained mattress creaking beneath him.
Within moments, sleep dragged him under.
***
Downstairs, Riche and Vinelyn approached the counter where the man still sat slumped in his chair, head tilted back, mouth slightly open.
He hadn't moved.
Riche frowned. "Hey. Someone broke into our room and was going through our things. Don't you have any security in this place?"
No response.
Riche stepped closer. "Hey! Wake up."
He reached out and grabbed the man's shoulder, giving it a firm shake.
As the man's head rolled forward, Riche noticed it.
A dark red bruise swelling on his forehead.
'He was knocked out…' Riche thought. 'The same intruder?'
The man stirred at last, blinking heavily as if dragged up from deep sleep. His name tag hung crookedly on his chest. Cred.
Cred squinted up at them, still groggy.
Then he noticed the two boys looming over him and his eyes widened.
"Eh?" he muttered thickly. "Didn't we clean the room already? Wassa matter?"
Riche exhaled slowly, fighting the irritation rising in his chest. He explained the entire incident, from the strange noises to the masked thief and the fight in their room.
Cred listened in silence, rubbing his forehead as if only just realizing the bruise there. When Riche finished, the man scratched his chin and shook his head lazily.
"I see… I see…"
He leaned back in his chair again.
"Well, ya can go sleep," he said with a dismissive shrug. "Nuthin's gonna hurt ya tonight anymore."
Riche stared at him, clearly unsatisfied. The answer felt far too casual for what had just happened.
But exhaustion tugged at him harder than his suspicion. The day had been long, and tomorrow would be worse.
With a tired sigh, he turned away.
'I'll deal with him later.'
With that he turned and trudged back up with Vinelyn following silently.