The scene was… brutal.
Burned carriage. One wheel still spinning in place.
The noble’s crest, Brosha’s gilded leaf was barely visible under the blackened debris.
The bodies were twisted. Not by fire. Bymagic.
Limbs bent the wrong way, expressions frozen mid-scream, their armor peeled back like skin.
Zander stepped beside me.
“This wasn’t just an attack,” he said, voice grim. “This was a message.”
We moved among the bodies with slow precision, the guards stepping back as we spread out. The stench of scorched leather and blood hung heavy in the air, mingled with the bitter metallic scent of magic long since burned away.
Zander crouched beside the central corpse, the one wearing remnants of noble silks and a torn golden sash. His fingers brushed the blood-matted tunic, and then he looked up at me.
“He was the target.”
I nodded slowly, crouching beside him. “Yeah. Makes sense.”
He glanced around once before lowering his voice. “Does this look like an Order assassin to you?”
I leaned closer, inspecting the noble’s body, eyes scanning the torso and arms before pulling back the cuff of his left sleeve. Beneath the fabric, four deep gouges marked the inside of his forearm.
But it wasn’t until I checked his hands that something clicked.
I gently pried back his fingers and found what I was looking for.
Red marks. Small crescent moons where nails had sunk into flesh. And beneath his cracked fingernails—blood that wasn’t his.
“Was this guy trained?” I asked Zander. “Any combat experience?”
Zander shook his head. “Not really. Some ceremonial blade training, maybe. Why?”
I pointed to the man’s hand. “Because hefought back.Whatever hit him, he got his hands on them. Scratched. Clawed. Maybe even landed a hit.”
Zander’s brow furrowed, then his expression darkened. “If this was anOrderassassin, he wouldn’t have been able to touch them.”
“Exactly,” I said, standing. “Order assassins are trained to end a life in seconds. No trace. No struggle.”
Zander exhaled bitterly. “Then it was the Crimson Sigil.”
“That’s my guess,” I said grimly.
Zander rose beside me, his eyes scanning the tree line, distant and storming. But before he could speak again, I turned to him.
“Why didn’t you bring Remy?”
Zander’s jaw tightened.
I pressed, “Hewasan Order assassin. If anyone could identify their work, it’s him.”
“Because,” Zander said slowly, “right now, I don’t know if he’d recognize it, or lie about it.”
I stared at him.
And I realized… he wasn’t just doubting Remy’s insight.
