Ryle walked the wide streets of Velbrath's capital, boots clicking softly on the polished stone roads. The grand towers rose overhead, draped in banners of gold and blue, fluttering in the spring breeze. Merchants laughed. Children played. Nobles passed by with wine-stained smiles.
But Ryle didn't smile back.
Not anymore.
Every laugh felt hollow. Every glance, suspect. Every smile might be a mask.
Since the fall of Lysmere, the memory of Wraiths lingered in him like the shadow of smoke on a battlefield. He had seen how easily they became people. How they fooled entire cities. How even the eyes of a child could lie.
Thea walked beside him, silent and tense. Her hand rested loosely on her sword's hilt, always ready. Behind them, Tobin and Kessia followed—Tobin trying to look cheerful, failing, and Kessia, tail twitching and ears alert.
Then—a sudden flutter of wings.
A message bird landed on Ryle's shoulder.
He blinked. Took the scroll gently from its leg.
The seal—Seraphina Elden.
They departed within the hour.
By nightfall, the towering mountains of the Elden region greeted them once more. A new coat of frost lined the peaks, and the once fearsome territory now carried a certain stillness. The banners no longer bore Darius Elden's sigil—they now flew Seraphina's royal rose, white and red.
Seraphina met them at the gate.
taller, colder, sharper. Her white dress was embroidered with gold leaves, and a small, delicate sword hung at her waist.
"Ryle," she said, stepping forward, a genuine smile flashing before she remembered the times. "Thank you for coming. All of you."
Ryle nodded. "The bird said it was urgent."
"It is. Come inside. We'll talk in the garden. Less ears there."
They followed her through the castle, now less rigid with guards and more with quiet patrols—Seraphina's doing. Ryle noted each change. She was growing into her role.
Tea was served in the garden pavilion.
"I've heard about Lysmere," Seraphina said softly, eyes lowering. "About the Wraiths."
"And you believe it?" Tobin asked.
"I didn't. Until I got this."
She passed Ryle a sealed report—ink still fresh.
It detailed a failed assassination in Elden's neighboring region, Darwick. A viscount had nearly been killed, saved only because he tripped while walking drunk.
The assassin vanished.
But the guards captured a woman who fit the killer's description.
She was tested with Truth magic—one of the few spells that couldn't be faked.
And she passed.
Ryle frowned. "So she wasn't the assassin."
"No," Seraphina said, "she was just an innocent."
Thea leaned forward. "Then the assassin… transformed into her. A Wraith."
Seraphina nodded grimly. "Exactly. And the worst part is… this isn't new."
She poured another cup of tea, hands trembling slightly. "There's a name floating around the underground. A guild that's been operating for ten years, leaving no survivors, no witnesses. Until now."
"Ten years?" Tobin asked. "Why now?"
"They made a mistake," Kessia answered, tail curling. "Or they wanted to be seen. Like in Lysmere."
Seraphina looked to Ryle. "I need you to find out what they're doing in my region. If Wraiths are involved… I can't trust anyone here. Not even my own guards."
"Where do we start?" Ryle asked.
Kessia spoke up. "The New Order Church."
Everyone went quiet.
Even the birds stopped chirping.
Thea narrowed her eyes. "Them?"
Seraphina exhaled. "They're… difficult."
"They hoard secrets," Kessia said. "Claim they receive 'prophecies' but never share them. Some say they protect dangerous knowledge from the public. Others think they are the danger."
Ryle stood. "Then we pay them a visit."
By morning, they reached the New Order Church's high stone gate.
It rose like a fortress—black walls, crimson banners. No windows, just narrow slits for archers. A single white symbol marked the entrance: a burning sun pierced by a sword.
A priest in gray robes stood waiting.
He smiled—barely.
"You are Ryle Astoria, yes?"
"Yes. I wish to speak with your high clergy."
"You may enter. Alone."
Ryle frowned. "I don't walk without my companions."
"They are not permitted. A random Elf Woman, and a random Cat girl?, And…" the priest turned to Tobin, "you, substitute Hero of Velbrath…"
The temperature seemed to drop.
"…you bear no Blessing, and no Hero's Sword. Your presence is an insult."
Tobin took a step forward, fists clenched. "I never asked for your recognition."
"And we never gave it," the priest said coldly.
Thea moved beside him, hand twitching. "Say that again."
"Enough," Ryle said, stepping between them. He turned to the priest.
"I will enter. They wait here. But if anything happens to me—"
"You'll write a lovely article, I'm sure," the priest said, smiling without warmth. "Welcome to the Church."
The gate opened.
Smoke curled from within.
And Ryle stepped into the shadows alone.