The chamber fell into an uneasy stillness after Rin left to gather her equipment. Only Kael remained inside, staring at the cold form of Lord Isamu Yurei.
Except... the corpse didn't feel cold. Not truly. It was subtle now—barely a whisper of warmth left in the skin. But Kael had placed his bare hand to the noble's wrist minutes earlier. Warmth still lingered, unnatural and wrong.
Dead men didn't stay warm for hours.
Unless they weren't supposed to be dead at all.
Kael frowned, stepping away from the body. Something itched at the edge of his instincts—a pressure between his shoulder blades, the kind that usually came before a knife.
He drew his blade silently. The steel whispered free of its sheath with a hushed, hungry sound. He didn't call for the guards outside. If someone was coming for him, it was someone who knew what they were doing.
And they wouldn't want witnesses.
The shadows in the room shifted.
Kael pivoted just in time.
A figure dropped from the rafters above with impossible grace, blades already drawn, the edges glinting in the dim lamplight. Kael blocked the first strike with the flat of his sword, the force jarring up his arm. The assassin's other blade swept low—aiming to hamstring him—but he twisted, narrowly avoiding it.
They moved like water—silent, fluid, deadly.
Kael gritted his teeth. He knew assassins. Had trained with them. Had killed a few. But this one... they were fast.
No words were exchanged.
Only steel against steel.
The clash echoed through the chamber in sharp, staccato bursts. Kael fought with precision, controlling the center of the room, never letting the assassin box him in. But he was on the defensive. Whoever this was had come to kill, not to intimidate.
And they were good.
A sudden kick to his thigh sent Kael stumbling backward. The assassin lunged in—but Kael flung a metal candlestick into the path of the blade. Sparks flew as it clanged against the weapon.
The assassin hissed under their breath.
Kael saw it then—just for a flash beneath the hood.
A mask. Porcelain-white with delicate silver filigree painted around the eyes.
Eyes that gleamed like obsidian.
The assassin darted to the left, blades spinning, forcing Kael to retreat again. But this time, something dropped to the floor—something that had fallen from the noble's robes in the struggle.
A letter.
The assassin's attention flickered toward it for a half-second.
It was enough.
Kael lunged, slicing low. The assassin flipped backward, avoiding the blow—but the letter was left behind. And someone else saw it.
Rin.
She had returned, quietly, just in time to witness the fight from the corridor outside. She froze in place, wide-eyed. Then her gaze dropped to the letter.
Kael shouted, "Don't—!"
But she was already moving.
Rin snatched the letter from the floor and turned to run. The assassin darted toward her, too fast for Kael to intercept. Rin twisted around a corner and vanished down the hallway.
The assassin stopped short.
Kael raised his sword, ready for another strike—but the masked figure didn't follow Rin.
Instead, they looked back at Kael.
Paused.
And then vanished in a whirl of black silk and silence, melting into the shadows as though they'd never been there.
Kael stood alone in the chamber, chest heaving, the edge of his blade glinting red in the lamplight.
The corpse still lay on the table.
But now, it felt like everything had changed.
---
Rin ran through the palace corridors, breath sharp in her chest, fingers clutching the letter as though it might vanish if she loosened her grip. She didn't know why she'd grabbed it. Instinct, maybe. Curiosity. Panic. All she knew was that the letter had pulsed—glowed, almost—as it hit the ground.
And she had seen symbols on the parchment she didn't recognize. Symbols that moved.
She ducked through a side door, slipping into the cool night air outside. The Moonlit Festival still roared beyond the palace walls, laughter and music swirling like incense. But here, in the courtyard behind the examination wing, it was quiet.
She leaned against the stone wall, breathing hard.
The letter was sealed shut.
But it hadn't been a moment ago. She'd seen part of it unfold mid-air.
Rin glanced around, then crouched behind a bush, tearing the seal carefully. The parchment inside was rough and uneven, inked in a strange black-blue pigment that shimmered faintly under the moonlight.
Some of the text was burned—half-charred symbols curling at the edges. But enough remained.
> "The threads cannot be severed by will alone.
For death is a gate—not an end.
The flesh remembers. The soul resists.
To reverse the path, one must pay the price..."
Below the text was a sigil. An alchemical one, she assumed—but unlike anything she'd studied. It looked like a spiral made of interlocking thorns, with tiny glyphs rotating around its edges.
As she watched, the glyphs shifted.
She blinked.
No, not shifted. They… breathed.
Like the ink itself was alive.
Her fingers trembled slightly.
Then she read the final words—scrawled hastily across the bottom:
> "Tell no one. The Silver Lotus blooms again."
The hairs on the back of her neck rose.
She stood up, tucking the letter into her satchel. Whatever this was—alchemy, forbidden rituals, resurrection—it was bigger than a single death. Bigger than a curious apothecary or a suspicious investigator.
And someone had just tried to kill to keep it hidden.
---
Back inside, Kael stood before Lord Isamu's corpse, motionless, thoughtful. Blood trickled from a small nick on his cheek. He wiped it away absently, staring down at the table.
The assassin hadn't taken the letter.
Why?
Why spare Rin?
He didn't have answers yet.
But he had questions—and a name he hadn't spoken aloud in years.
The Silver Lotus.
Not a myth, after all.
He sheathed his sword and turned toward the corridor.
Time to find Rin.
And the truth she had just stolen.