Moving swiftly across the rooftops, her feet barely made a sound as she leaped from one to the next, her body low. She darted through the shadows, every jump measured, every landing silent. Soon, she neared the far side of the large estate and dropped into a crouch, blending seamlessly with the darkness cast by the nearby trees. A large skylight window opened below, showing what had likely once been a grand dining area. She carefully lowered herself onto its edge, peering inside.
The room was dimly lit, but her eyes quickly adjusted. A large table was piled high with the same clay jars the villagers had been carrying, and a masked man moved slowly between them. He placed a hand on each jar's lid, closing his eyes for a moment before drawing various symbols onto them with a steady hand.
“This was a good batch.” The man scribbled notes into a small pad. “At least fifty percent high yield. And five percent super high yield, enough to render even the strongest Hollow-born inert.”
Fuck. Rynna's pulse quickened. What were they planning if their targets were Hollow-born? This wasn’t just a band of opium thugs.
Once all the new jars were added to the table, the doorman grunted. “Send them back, will you? They’re giving me the creeps.”
“What?” Notebook man looked up. “Oh, yes, of course. I need space to work anyhow.”
He made a few swift arcane symbols with one hand, then touched two fingers to his forehead, whispering words she couldn’t quite hear. As soon as he lowered his hand, the villagers turned in unison and began filing out of the room as if on cue.
“Are you happy now, Bain?” He pulled his notepad back out.
“Ecstatic.” The first man sank into a chair in the corner. He scowled at the departing villagers, then called out, “Master! That’s the last of the latest production run. We’re ready for phase two whenever they get here.”
Rynna tensed from her hidden vantage point, hoping Bran had stayed put where she’d left him.
“Good,” came a voice from the room's far end. It was high-pitched, shrill, almost a squawk. “If the new batch of Veilroot is ready, it’s time to welcome our guests.”
“They’re here already?” the studious man asked, barely glancing at the newcomer as he continued examining the jars. “That was faster than expected.”
“Yes. Apparently, they sent the Crimson Wolf himself. He used a Waygate to get here faster.”
They already know we’re here. And they know Fenn is with us. How?!Rynna’s mind raced.Do I stay and listen or get Bran and warn everyone?
“What?!” The swordsman—Bain, they called him—balked, his hand flying to the hilt of his weapon. “You never said anything about a Vessel. It was supposed to be Awakened at worst.”
“Relax,” the leader cooed, stepping out of the shadows. He was small and hunched, his voice unnervingly calm. “I will handle him if needed, though I don’t think that will be necessary.”
Rynna’s blood ran cold.This small, shriveled man thinks he can handle Fenn?
Knowing her Unit Leader’s reputation, the thought was unsettling. But this man didn’t strike her as either stupid or uninformed.
“The old woman with them, then?” The swordsman asked.
No! Gran Hesta?
“Yes!” The leader cackled. “The great Crimson Wolf should already be under the Veilroot if she’s done her job. We left a little welcome package for whenever she returned.”
No!She needed to leave now.
“You know we can’t really cure the townspeople, right, Yata?” Notebook man mumbled, his pen scratching across the page. “They’re far past the point where any antidote would be effective.”
Shit. Rynna froze mid-movement, halting her jump across the roof.An antidote? That could be vital.
“Who cares?” Yata shrugged, a cruel smile spreading across his face. “She’s dead once we know the drug works on a powerful Hollow-born.” His grin widened. “And I couldn’t have asked for a better test case. The Crimson Wolf will make an excellent demonstration.”
“Hmmm, hmmm.” The notebook man nodded absentmindedly. “Does he have a team with him?”
“Just a couple of younglings. Novices in training.”
“Babies.” The swordsman picked at his nails. “Think we’ll be able to drive up the price? With the Crimson Wolf on display?”
“An excellent suggestion, Bain,” Yata replied, rubbing his fingers together. “Most excellent indeed.”
I don’t have time for this. Rynna’s heart raced. She couldn’t wait any longer to see if they’d reveal more about an antidote. She needed to get back.
