I slipped into the dumpster’s shadow, pressing to the cool stone just as their voices carried again.
“The drop must be made by the midnight hour at the masquerade,” one said, low but urgent. “It’s the only time the officials will be distracted enough for us to get into Tyria’s stronghold without being questioned.”
A second scoffed. “A fucking soiree? You’re sure there’s no other way?”
It sounded like one shoved the other into the wall.
“Don’t you think if we had the option, we’d take it, Sanzo?” the first snapped. “I’m tired of being stuck on the wrong side of this war. This is the only way Tyria will accept us.”
Traitors.
They weren’t just deserters—they were turning cloak. Most elementals sent to the Watch are there because they’ve committed an unforgivable crime. The rest? The soulless ones. The ones too broken to survive anywhere else. Once you’re in the Watch, there’s no release. No furlough. No retirement. Just cold obedience until your body gives out.
Unless, of course, you sell your soul—and your people—to Tyria.
A fresh voice spoke, quieter, tense. “And what if it’s a trap? Who’s to say they won’t have dragons ready to incinerate us the second we cross the line?”
“Yeah… those gray ones are fucking terrifying. Have you seen one up close?”
“No, I—”
“Focus,” the first snapped. “We’ve been at this too long. There’s no going back. We either make the drop or let time run out. Would you rather risk prison, or take a shot at freedom?”
Freedom—in Tyria. They were trading their sentence in the Watch for a chance to defect and start over. If this masquerade really is at Tyria’s stronghold, it could be the opening we’ve been waiting for—a chance to slip behind enemy lines and finally uncover answers we’ve chased for years.
“When is it?”
“Year’s End. Midnight sharp. No earlier, no later. Tie up loose ends the night before. We’ll use the northeasterntunnel—”
Clang.
Shit. My hand slipped. Metal scraped down the side of the dumpster, rattling enough to echo.
“What was that?”
Footsteps.
Shit. Shit.Shit.
River’s panic surged. I could sense she was already sprinting through the forest toward the market. My heart slammed in my chest. My gaze flicked between the alley entrance and the shadowed figures deeper in the dark.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”
One of them stepped around the dumpster—tall, broad, and far too close. I stayed crouched, spine pressed to the wall as if I could melt into it.Don’t speak. Don’t move. Don’t give yourself away too soon.
Another shape emerged from the shadows. Before I could react, his hand fisted the collar of my jacket and yanked me to my feet, dragging me eye-level to his breath and stubble and reek of old ale.
“Looks like we caught ourselves a little eavesdropper.”
“Such pretty hazel eyes. Would you look at that?” His free hand crept toward my balaclava. “I bet she’s even more beautiful under this mask.”
I jerked back as far as I could.
“Honey! I’m so sorry. I don’t want to argue. I’ve been lookingeverywherefor you!” Nash’s voice rang down the alley, louder than necessary, slurred like he’d had one too many ales.
They blinked, thrown off just long enough.
I struck.
