The moment Armon stepped into the town square, the world stopped.
The air was thick with the scent of sweat, soot, and something deeper—fear.
Without a word, every worker, merchant, and child dropped to their knees.
The streets, once filled with movement and murmurs, fell into silence. The morning sun cast long, jagged shadows over rows of bowed heads. The only sounds were the clicking boots of Armon's guards, the faint rustle of fabric as people lowered their gaze, and the distant hum of the factory's never-ending machines.
Keiran knelt alongside Vael and Selara, his fingers pressing into the dirt. He kept his head bowed, but his eyes remained open, watching. Waiting.
At the very center of the square, Armon stood, his coat billowing slightly in the morning breeze. His face held the same cold amusement as always, but something burned beneath his eyes—controlled fury.
Then, he smiled.
"Loyal citizens," his voice carried effortlessly through the streets, smooth, slow, and commanding.
"It seems we have a problem."
The crowd remained frozen. No one breathed.
"There is a rat among you."
A ripple of unease passed through the kneeling masses. A rat. Not just a traitor. Not just a rebel. A spy.
Keiran's mind raced.
"Could it be… the letter?"
Armon's anger yesterday—the way he clenched that crumpled page in his fist—was it because of the spy?
If there really was an outsider who had slipped into this hell, it meant one thing:
Somewhere, beyond these walls, someone was watching.
But then, before Keiran could process it further—
BANG.
A single gunshot tore through the silence.
The sound reverberated through the square, and a body slumped forward.
A random worker—a man Keiran had never even seen before—lay face-down in the dirt. A fresh bullet hole gaped in his skull, still smoking.
Keiran forced himself not to react.
A woman in the crowd let out a strangled gasp before clamping a hand over her mouth.
Armon did not even look at the body.
"You will all continue your work today," he said, voice light, casual. Mocking."But from this moment on, there will be… new measures."
The guards beside him cocked their weapons.
"Stricter patrols. New security checks. Less freedom." Armon turned slightly, as if scanning the sea of bowed heads. "And if I find our little rat?"
His smile widened.
"I will make an example out of them that none of you will ever forget."
With that, he turned on his heel and walked away.
The guards fired into the air—one final warning shot.
Then, the town exhaled.
Keiran's fingers curled into fists.
They were running out of time.
The door to Keiran's room burst open.
Keiran and Selara snapped to attention, but before they could react, Asheron stood in the doorway.
Dressed in his usual fine black coat, he exuded the same air of casual ease, yet his golden eyes were sharp. Focused.
"Good morning, Mister Kei." His voice was smooth, polite. Too polite.
Keiran tensed.
"Come with me."
It wasn't a request.
Selara gave Keiran a warning glance, but he just nodded. There was no point in resisting.
The walk to Asheron's room was quiet.
Then, once they were inside, Asheron closed the door behind them.
Keiran finally spoke. "What do you want?"
Asheron sighed, pouring himself a cup of tea before sitting down.
"I would advise you, Mister Kei, to be very careful."
Keiran narrowed his eyes. "Careful?"
Asheron took a sip, unbothered. "You are meddling in things that will not end well for you."
Silence stretched between them.
"Tell me," Asheron said, tilting his head. "What do you think was in that letter?"
Keiran exhaled, crossing his arms. "If I had to guess? Something about the spy. Maybe even an order from someone outside."
A small smile tugged at Asheron's lips.
"Very good."
Keiran's chest tightened. He had been right.
Asheron leaned forward slightly, setting his cup down with a soft clink."And what do you think Armon will do if he finds them?"
Keiran didn't answer. He already knew.
"Armon does not tolerate outsiders." Asheron's voice dropped slightly, his smile fading. "If the spy is caught, their death will not be simple."
Keiran kept his expression unreadable. "And why do you care?"
Asheron chuckled softly.
"Who says I do?"
Keiran clenched his jaw.
Then, Asheron's tone shifted—just slightly.
"You have your plans, Mister Kei." He swirled the tea in his cup. "And I have mine."
Keiran studied him. **There was something dangerous about Asheron.**Something unreadable.
"I'll give you one last piece of advice." Asheron's golden eyes gleamed in the dim light.
"Be careful with your little firestarter."
Keiran's stomach dropped.
"Oaths are not as simple as you think."
A heavy silence filled the room.
Then, as if the conversation had never happened, Asheron smiled.
"That's all."
Keiran pushed himself up. "I don't trust you."
Asheron's smirk widened. "You shouldn't."
Keiran turned and left, his mind racing.
Asheron leaned back in his chair, his gaze lingering on the door.
Outside, Keiran took a steadying breath.
They were running out of time.
And if they weren't careful—they wouldn't live to see their escape.
Keiran walked back to his room, his mind a storm of thoughts.
Vael was already inside, sitting cross-legged on the floor, his sharp eyes locking onto Keiran the moment he stepped in.
"What was that all about?" Vael asked, his voice low.
Keiran exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Careful." His voice was barely above a whisper. "We have to be very careful."
Selara leaned against the window, arms crossed, her dark blue eyes watching him.
"What do you think about Asheron?" she asked.
Keiran didn't answer immediately.
He sat down on the edge of his bed, staring at the wooden floor for a moment before muttering, "I don't know."
Vael frowned. "What do you mean?"
Keiran clenched his fists. "I can't know." His voice was firmer this time. "I don't know if Asheron is a friend or an enemy."
Selara's expression remained unreadable.
Then, Keiran looked up, his eyes shadowed.
"But I do know one thing."
The room was silent.
"He is our ally... for now, at least."
The weight of those words settled between them.
For now.
But for how long?
In the dimly lit corridor, Asheron stood alone.
A slow, amused smile tugged at his lips.
With practiced ease, he reached for his hat, setting it back atop his silver hair. The dim light flickered across his sharp features as he adjusted the brim, shadowing his golden eyes.
Then, with a casual flick of his half-cape, he wrapped it around himself—and stepped into the darkness.
And just like that…
He was gone.
Keiran stepped toward the window, the wooden floor creaking softly beneath his weight. His breath was slow, steady—but his eyes were sharp, following the towering figure of Armon as he descended the steps of the town square.
His long coat trailed behind him, his polished boots tapping against the stone pavement with every slow, deliberate step. The guards flanked him, their hands resting on their holstered revolvers, their eyes cold and unreadable.
Then—he stopped.
Keiran narrowed his eyes.
A second figure emerged.
Kennedy.
With his usual unsettling grin, Kennedy stepped forward, spreading his arms in a theatrical gesture.
"Be well, dear humans," he mused, his voice rich and smooth, as if addressing an audience in a grand theater. "Wish you the best."
The words were mocking.
Keiran's grip tightened against the wooden window frame.
Armon said nothing. He merely walked past Kennedy, his guards following behind. His black coat disappeared beyond the town gates, swallowed by the foggy morning air.
And then—
Everything snapped back to normal.
The town, frozen in obedient silence just moments ago, stirred back to life.
Merchants resumed setting up their stalls. Workers hurried off to their shifts. Children, who had been kneeling just moments ago, brushed dust off their clothes and went about their day.
As if nothing had happened.
Keiran felt something cold settle in his chest.
Armon's presence had vanished.
But his shadow lingered.
And deep down—Keiran knew it was only a matter of time before that shadow returned.