Cian leaned on the doorframe, waiting for it to open. Raelus was already accustomed to Cian's evening ritual. Mrs. Mocháini opened the door, her wrinkled face stretching into a smile as she pulled him into a motherly embrace.
"My boy, come in," she said, her voice brimming with joy and anticipation as she tried to usher him inside.
"No, ma'am," Cian politely declined. "I was just passing by."
He clasped her hand in his. "I looked around, and there's an opening as a steward up in the Western District. Tell your son to come find me tomorrow."
"Oh, thank you very much," she said, pleased by the news. "May the Good God watch over you."
"Dagda watches over me daily," Cian murmured, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "I have to leave now."
The mention of Dagda—the Good God—confirmed that the old gods were still prevalent here.
"I can't let you leave like that," Mrs. Mocháini said, rushing into her house. She returned with a piece of cake in a wooden bowl. "It's not much, but it'll knock out that sweet tooth of yours."
"It certainly will," he replied with a grin before heading down the block as usual.
Widow's Street. Home to those who had lost loved ones during the Sectarian War. Families from all over the kingdom had been relocated here as compensation for the sacrifices their loved ones made to win the war for the crown. From their shared grief and common belief in the old gods, an unshakable camaraderie had formed. Everyone had their part to play—and this was Cian's.
They stopped in front of a door just a few houses down from the previous one. Cian was nervous. He straightened his clothes, ruffled his hair slightly, and then waited. Raelus' chuckle earned him a sharp glare, which quickly vanished when the door opened.
"Hey, Cian! Almost thought you'd forgotten about me," Til teased, watching as Cian flushed red.
"Who's at the door?" Til's grandmother shouted from inside.
"It's Cian, Grandma."
"Then why isn't he in already?" her raspy voice rang out again.
"I'm okay out here, Mrs. Fuythd," Cian called back. No further yelling followed.
He awkwardly placed a hand on the doorframe, leaning slightly in an attempt to look nonchalant, but it wasn't working. Cian was slightly taller than Til, his eyes looming down on her. He liked everything about her—how her downward smile made her seem carefree, how her large, doe-like eyes made her as cute as a kitten, and how her soft voice was always quick to tease.
"Cat got your tongue, handsome?" she asked, her smile almost throwing him off balance.
"I could never forget you. I just thought you'd be busy now, working for the baron's daughter and all."
"Gina is cool. Fucked up, but cool."
"On a first-name basis now?" Cian grinned, trying to play along. Her cheeks flustered.
"Told you, she's cool and all," Til said, peeking over Cian's shoulder to greet Raelus, who waved back. "Who's the cute one over there?"
"Your missus," she teased, nudging Cian while bobbing her head toward Raelus.
"Nothing like that. He's my sidekick, Rua," Cian pulled Raelus closer, finally looking like his usual confident self. "I told you, I only have eyes for you."
"Boy, I told you to stop saying such shit," Til pushed him playfully.
"Can't I speak my mind?"
"No, you can't. What brought you here today?"
"Nothing," Cian said, dipping into his pocket and handing her a small pouch.
"Told you, I'm not your charity case," Til frowned.
"I ain't treating you like one," he said, placing the pouch in her hand and gently clutching it. "I know you need it for your grandma's medicine and all."
"Then let's do this. You pay me back once cool Gina pays you," he nudged her. He smiled softly as she melted into submission.
"Okay," she said, shaking her head. "Let's do that."
She pulled her hand away and turned to close the door. "Goodnight, and thank you."
"You're welcome," he replied, stepping onto the stairs leading down from the porch. "Goodnight."
"Say hi to your friend!" she called before closing the door.
Raelus watched Cian stare at the closed door before breaking into silent laughter. Cian was all smiles as he pushed Raelus down the block. They went on to the remaining houses.
The final door belonged to the Glen sisters. The trio worked as cleaners in the richer districts. Usually, at this time, Cian could smell their supper from outside, but tonight, the street's usual stench was all that greeted him. The sisters took their time answering the door, and when they did, Agath, the eldest, wore an ashen, worried expression.
"What's wrong?" Cian pushed the door fully open and stepped inside. "Did he hit her again?" His eyes scanned the room for Heather, the youngest.
"No, that's not it," Agath said. "She hasn't come home, and we're just worried."
"Have you checked Mic's house?"
"I just came from there. He said he hasn't seen her all day," Heather said, slumping into a wooden chair. Raelus stood at the door frame, his heart heavy. He was thinking what everyone else was—she had to have been kidnapped, just like the others. The question was how these disappearances were happening.
"We've checked everywhere. We couldn't find her. Cian, can't you ask around?" Agath's sorrow moved them both.
"I will. Tomorrow," Cian said, standing at the door with his hand on the handle. "For now, rest. Don't worry. We will find her." His infectious smile washed over Agath, offering relief. She didn't know why, but she felt it was for the best not to worry too much.
Raelus sat on the roof of the orphanage where they resided, his mind elsewhere. Unlike Cian, he didn't feel obligated to everyone here, but he couldn't let the world burn on his watch. His father would have said something like: It was the dignity of a ruler.Dignity is the manifestation of honor, and honor is what separates men from beasts.
He was lost in thought, deliberating his next move, when he heard the creak of his door. He slipped down from the roof, landing gently on the balcony, and hid behind the wall next to the door. The footsteps inside were heavy and clumsy. That eased his worry. Peeking in, he saw Cian's shadow standing by his desk. Relieved, he stepped into the room, startling Cian.
Cian let out a ladylike scream, making Raelus burst into laughter as he approached the desk and closed the book Cian had been inspecting. Cian snatched the book back, flipping through the pages. Apart from a few initial entries, the rest were blank. The written pages were in Raelus' native language, making them unreadable to Cian. Giving up, he sat on the bed, contemplating.
"I know my way around people," Cian began. "But you..." He pointed at Raelus. "You're an enigma. You have so many secrets."
Raelus lit a new candle as the one on the table flickered out.
"Sometimes, I think it's not that you can't speak. I think you choose not to for some weird reason," Cian said, watching Raelus, who only smiled.
"There it is again—the smug look," Cian chuckled before stretching out on the bed, embracing the comforting silence.
This went on for a while. They had now moved to the balcony, staring at the sky in silence. The midnight bell from one of the Septs ushered in a new day in a miserable life. There was movement in the streets, though minimal—those who worked in the Eastern boroughs were heading home. The sounds died down just as fast as they had begun.
Then, a muffled scream—one weakly suppressed.
Raelus looked at Cian, who had heard it too.
This time, it was a full-blown yell, just around the corner.
Cian did not hesitate. He vaulted over the balustrade, bracing his legs for impact. Raelus rushed inside, grabbing his sword from beside the bed. He hesitated before jumping over the balcony—they were on the first floor. Pushing himself over the railing, he landed clumsily, almost breaking his leg. Taking in the pain, he pelted toward Cian, who had already turned into a dark alley, heading toward the source of the scream.
Cian stopped, watching as a familiar young woman—just two years younger than him—wriggled in an attempt to escape her abductor's bear-like grip.
Raelus wheezed past Cian, the sharp tang of metal slicing through the air as his blade slithered out of its scabbard. He aimed a downward slash at the right shoulder, waiting for the girl to wriggle to the left. The moment she did, his strike landed.
The abductor's arm fell to the ground, the girl collapsing beside it.
Raelus push-kicked the man, sending him stumbling into the darkness.
Cian pulled the girl into an embrace, steadying her flaring emotions as he had done for so many others. Meanwhile, Raelus stared at the severed limb. Something was wrong. There was no blood. The alley remained eerily clean.
Panic surged through him. He turned to Cian, still focused on calming the girl.
Then, the abductor emerged from the darkness.
He wore a long overcoat, black trousers, and boots. His chest was bare, his skin pale as a corpse. A fedora sat low over his face, obscuring his features.
Where his severed shoulder had been, a writhing stump now grew. Slowly, a new arm formed in its place.
It looked up.
It had no face.
No eyes, no nose—nothing but smooth skin. Where its eyes should have been, trails of blood seeped down to its chin. It cranked its neck sideways with an unnatural snap, the newly formed arm twisting and sharpening into a jagged, spear-like weapon.
Raelus turned to Cian.
"Run!" he yelled, first in his native language.
Cian froze in shock.
"Take her and run!" Raelus yelled again, his words now accented but clear.
Cian understood. He hefted the girl into his arms and sprinted away.
Raelus felt as if a piece of his soul had been torn away. But he knew what he had to do. He had to buy them time.
Taking deep breaths, he fell into a familiar stance. The pain in his leg dulled—bearable now.
He lunged.