SIXTEEN
ARAX
The lieutenant’s location is a converted warehouse at the district’s center, surrounded by the most heavily corrupted architecture we have encountered. The walls here don’t merely whisper—they scream, their erasure magic so concentrated that the air itself tastes of ending. My domain holds the corruption at bay, but I feel the effort required increasing with each step.
Tanith walks beside me, her Termination magic flickering along her fingertips as she ends the most aggressive reaching spells. We have found a rhythm—my domain suppressing the ambient corruption while her precision work eliminates specific threats. The efficiency pleases a part of me that still thinks in operational terms.
The rest of me is focused entirely on ensuring nothing comes between us again.
“Sentries.” Tanith indicates positions with subtle gestures—rooftop to the left, window on the right, doorway ahead. “They’re trying to look casual.”
“They are failing.”
“Most sentries do.” She pauses, assessing angles and distances. “I can take the rooftop and window if you handle the doorway and whatever’s inside.”
“The Choir operates through decentralized cells. Another team may have been assigned the same objective. Another lieutenant may have received similar instructions.” My eyes stay fixed on hers. “We don’t separate.”
For a long moment, she studies me. I watch her process the information—strategic objection giving way to personal evaluation, practical argument transforming into a different kind of question.
“This isn’t about tactics.” No accusation in her tone. Only observation.
“It’s about ensuring mission success.”
“No. It’s about ensuring I stay where you can see me.”
“Yes.” The admission costs more than it should. “It’s about ensuring you remain within my reach.”
She considers this. I wait, uncertain for the first time in decades about what response to expect.
“Then we go in as a unit.” She turns back to the warehouse, her expression hardening into tactical focus. “You take point. I follow at two paces. We clear room by room without splitting up.”
“That approach is less efficient.”
“That approach keeps you in sight of me.” She glances at me, and her lips curve fractionally—amusement tempered by understanding. “Efficiency isn’t everything.”
We advance on the warehouse.
The sentries die quickly—not because they pose significant threats, but because eliminating them is the fastest way to reach the interior. I don’t give them opportunities to raise alarms or signal for reinforcement. I don’t offer chances at surrender or negotiation. They positioned themselves between me and myobjective, and I removed them with the same efficiency I would apply to any obstacle.
Tanith watches me work. I feel her attention tracking my movements, cataloging my methods, storing observations I will never see but can easily imagine. She’s studying me the way I study her—with the thorough attention of someone building a complete picture.
I don’t object to being learned.
The warehouse interior is divided into operational sections—ritual preparation area to the left, communication equipment to the right, living quarters in the back. The lieutenant stands at the center of the communication section, surrounded by transcription devices and message frameworks that connect this node to the larger Choir network.
He’s not alone.
Eight members form a defensive perimeter around him, their ritual tattoos glowing with accumulated power. They have been preparing for assault—reinforcing their defenses, charging their offensive capabilities, creating a last-stand configuration designed to maximize damage to any attacker.
They have prepared for an assault by conventional forces.
They have not prepared for me.
I don’t announce myself. I don’t offer terms or demand surrender. I simply begin.
The first two die before the lieutenant can complete the warning he’s attempting to shout. My domain erases their defensive wards; my hands end their physical existence. The third and fourth fall to Tanith’s Termination magic, their ritual frameworks collapsing as her power finds the anchoring points and ends them.
The lieutenant attempts to flee.
