Night clung stubbornly to the outskirts of the Capital, though the first faint suggestion of dawn pressed against the horizon. Fog rolled low across Merchant's Town, swallowing shapes and muting sound until the world felt suspended between breath and silence.
Senior Lex stood beside the fallen walcat bike, its engine ticking faintly as heat escaped into the cold air. Smoke curled lazily from its frame.
He frowned, studying it.
He could have sworn he had shot someone off the machine.
Martin lingered nearby, peering into the mist with unease tightening his shoulders. He had seen it too. Something had ridden that walcat. Machines did not charge a city gate alone.
Lex crouched slightly, inspecting the vehicle. Walcats could move on homed signals, yes, but even then a rider was needed to guide acceleration. Someone had been here. Someone with feet.
He drew the flashlight from his belt and snapped it on. The beam sliced through the fog, revealing faint impressions pressed into damp soil.
Footprints.
They curved deliberately around the edge of the floodlights, never entering full illumination, as if their owner understood precisely where light ended and shadow began.
Lex's jaw tightened.
Whatever ghost had ridden the machine was still nearby.
Cruise's voice carried through the fog as she approached from the tower, stepping into the pale wash of light. She asked whether Martin had found anything, her tone cautious but steady.
Lex followed the tracks another step—and realization struck him like cold iron.
He raised his rifle instantly and fired into one of the floodlights.
Glass shattered.
Darkness swallowed half the clearing.
"Down!" he barked.
Cruise dropped flat as the shot echoed across Merchant's Town. Lex chambered another round, scanning frantically.
Martin shouted that the figure was climbing the tower.
A shape moved against the bricked structure—too fast, expertly without a doubt. Lex fired again. The bullet missed as the figure twisted mid-motion, descending with impossible agility and landing beside Cruise without a sound.
Pixel's voice rang from the opposite tower, alarmed and confused.
Lex ordered the glare reduced, shouting for Pixel to adjust the lighting.
Cruise stared upward from the ground, her breath catching. What she saw froze her in place. The thing standing before her was wrong—too quick, too silent, too predatory.
She scrambled to rise, but the figure seized her.
Her dagger flashed into her hand. She struck in desperate haste, slashing blindly, yet the attacker released her effortlessly, slipping past the blade before delivering a brutal punch that sent her crashing back to the ground.
Pixel demanded to know what was happening below.
Lex shouted for the lights to be fixed on the intruder, but the figure flowed through darkness itself, always just beyond illumination.
An assassin, Lex realized. No ordinary infiltrator moved like this.
He ordered a retreat toward the towers.
Cruise groaned, blood already touching her lip. Her voice trembled as she insisted the thing was no human being.
Martin rushed toward her, concern overtaking caution. In doing so, he stepped beyond the safety of the light.
The figure struck immediately.
A hand clamped around Martin's throat, lifting him with terrifying strength. He reacted on instinct, twisting violently, hooking a leg between the attacker's stance and slamming the figure hard onto the ground. He reached for his revolver —
Gone.
Lex shouted for him to shoot.
The figure rose as though untouched. In its hand was Martin's missing revolver. Without hesitation it aimed upward and fired into the remaining floodlights.
Glass exploded overhead.
Pixel was thrown backward inside the tower, his head striking stone. The towers fell into near total darkness.
Gunfire shattered the quiet of Merchant's Town. Windows opened briefly as frightened residents peered into the fog, only to find the watchtowers dark for the first time in memory. One more shot rang out, and shutters slammed closed. Prayers replaced curiosity.
Lex ordered a full retreat to regain visibility.
The fog thickened, swallowing distance entirely.
Martin and Cruise hurried toward the tower while Lex swept his flashlight through empty gray void. A bullet suddenly tore toward him from the darkness. He twisted aside, the shot grazing his side.
Pain burned, but he stayed upright.
The attacker moved again—swift, purposeful—slipping past Martin and driving straight toward Cruise.
This time she met it head-on. Her dagger rose in a precise killing strike aimed at the throat.
The figure caught the blade effortlessly.
One hand held the dagger. The other still gripped the revolver.
With chilling efficiency, the attacker wrenched the weapon free from her grasp and drove it into her abdomen.
Martin's scream tore through the fog.
Cruise collapsed, blood spilling rapidly onto the cold ground.
Lex's dropped flashlight lay angled across the scene, its beam illuminating both victim and attacker. For the first time, light touched the stranger's face.
The eyes revealed something unexpected.
Confusion.
Regret.
A flicker of realization passed through the figure, as though awakening to what it had done.
The pistol slipped from its hand.
It seemed ready to pull the dagger free—perhaps to help her, perhaps to end something unfinished—but Lex fired from the ground, his bullet tearing through the attacker's shoulder.
The hesitation vanished.
Rage replaced it instantly, violent and unnatural.
The figure abandoned Cruise and sprinted toward the city wall, racing for the river dividing Merchant's Town from the Capital. It nearly reached the water before another shot rang out.
Pixel, blood streaming from his head, stood atop the tower with rifle raised.
The bullet struck the attacker's leg, sending it stumbling. Pixel reloaded with shaking hands and muttered that the next shot would end it he aimed for the head .
He fired again.
The figure twisted at the last instant and hurled itself into the river below, vanishing into black water and mist.
Silence returned, broken only by Cruise's labored breathing.
Martin rushed to her side, lifting her gently and cradling her head against his arm. Blood soaked through his uniform as panic overtook him.
He shouted upward for Pixel to signal the gates. They needed a medic immediately.
Pixel looked down, horror spreading across his face as he saw his sister bleeding out beneath the tower.
Martin shouted again, desperation sharpening his voice.
Lex rose slowly despite the pain in his side and approached the abandoned walcat. A faint electronic beeping caught his attention. Attached to the machine was a small red device, blinking steadily. He removed it, studying it briefly before turning back toward the towers.
He ordered Pixel to send the signal.
This time Pixel obeyed without hesitation. He grabbed the flash gun, aimed toward the towering six-hundred-foot walls of the Capital, and fired.
A blazing streak of white light screamed into the sky, announcing an emergency opening of the city gates.
Along the wall, guards recognized the signal immediately. Mechanisms groaned to life as the immense gates began their slow descent.
Dawn crept over the horizon, pale gold bleeding through fog as Lex watched the city awaken.
Mysteries belonged to the night, he thought, but city guards survived only by expecting them.
He told Martin to hold himself together. Cruise was strong. She had endured this long; she would endure a little longer.
The gates lowered steadily.
Lex ordered that she be taken directly to the City Guard infirmary the moment the entrance opened, regardless of hour. His authority would answer any objections.
Pixel descended from the tower and approached. Lex allowed himself a faint grin despite everything.
He told Pixel to have his own wound treated and to prepare a horse. The incident required immediate report to the City Council.
Other guards arrived, and Lex directed them to secure the walcat and examine it carefully.
He dismissed Pixel, then added quietly that he should not cry. New arrivals were approaching the Capital, and a senior guard ought not greet them in tears.
Pixel nodded and left.
Lex turned toward the horizon once more.
Through thinning fog he saw silhouettes advancing along the road—the Florens, travelers marching with goods and belongings toward the Great City Walls just as morning claimed the sky.
In his hand, the red device continued to beep.
Lex stared at it thoughtfully, almost speaking to the rising sun itself.
To where do you lead?