Noctis tried the heavy door; it was firmly locked, unyielding.
“Hold on,” Adrix said, his voice low as he stepped forward.
He placed his hand on the ancient wood of the handle, and a faint, blue shimmer of mana enveloped it, pulsing gently.
A soft, metallic click echoed in the sudden stillness, and the door swung inward with a reluctant groan.
We slipped inside, shadows in a house of shadows, moving with the practiced quiet of those accustomed to danger.
I drew my dagger, the familiar weight of the cool, patterned steel a small, grim comfort in my trembling hand as we crept from one echoing room to another.
Each chamber was bare, dust motes dancing in the slivers of light that pierced the gloom, the air stale with disuse.
“Remember,” Noctis whispered, his voice a mere breath, “subdue, don’t kill. They’re no use to us dead. And be mindful—they might have potions in their mouths, a coward’s escape. We need information.”
Each step we took was a gamble, our senses straining, my heart a frantic drum against the fear of what we’d find – or wouldn’t find.
“Here,” Adrix murmured, his attention caught.
Faint, almost invisible threads of mana, like spun moonlight, danced around a section of wall in the current dusty room.
It looked solid, unremarkable.
With a nearly silent whoosh, the wall slid open, revealing a hallway as black as a sealed tomb.
Adrix’s mana flared, a soft, ethereal globe of light blooming in his palm, pushing back the oppressive darkness.
We moved cautiously down the corridor, the silence so profound it felt like a pressure against our eardrums, for what felt like an eternity, until we reached a heavy, iron-banded door.
Positioning myself beside it, dagger held low and ready, I watched as Noctis, with a curt nod, swiftly twisted the handle and threw the door open.
I dashed in, senses screaming, ready for anything.
Empty.
Or, not empty of objects.
Instead of people, a large, intricate magical artifact dominated the space.
It stood about hip-high, constructed of a dark, unknown metal that seemed to absorb the light, and sat beside a simple, disheveled bed in the center of the room.
Its surface was covered in complex, glowing runes.
“What is this?” I asked, my voice a hushed exhalation, eyes scanning the strange, humming device.
“Let me see,” Adrix murmured, his own fascination evident.
His mana extended, delicate tendrils of blue light reaching out, gently probing the artifact like a curious insect.
He fell silent, his brow furrowed in deep concentration, the only sound the faint thrum emanating from the device.
“It’s a sophisticated device to measure and quantify mana. Exceptionally precise.”
“They must have brought the girl here first,” Finnian said, his voice grim, his earlier agitation now a hardened resolve.
“Assessed her, then decided her next destination.”
Leaving the unsettling room, we continued down the dark hallway, the oppressive silence now broken by the faint, growing murmur of voices.
Noctis and I took the lead, our steps measured, Adrix close behind, his light a steady beacon.
This time, Finnian, his expression set, quietly eased open the next door.
We rushed in, a coordinated surge.
Three men were in the room, startled by our sudden intrusion.
My focus narrowed to the one in the middle, his back a vulnerable target as he turned towards a cluttered table.
Time seemed to stretch as I moved, my feet silent on the stone.
One sharp, calculated strike to the juncture of neck and skull – and he crumpled, a puppet with cut strings, without a sound.
I caught him before his body could thud against the ground, Finnian instantly at my side, his movements surprisingly deft as he helped me lower the man gently.
My gaze flickered to two still, masked figures on the floor near Noctis and Adrix.
“Did they…?”
“Yes, both,” Noctis confirmed, his tone flat, devoid of triumph.
He nudged one with his boot.
“They took the potions. Too slow.”
He glanced at my captive.
“I assume your guy is too.”
“He’s alive, just unconscious,” I corrected, my own breathing a little ragged.
“Though we should check his mouth immediately.”
Noctis knelt, his movements economical, and carefully examined the unconscious man’s mouth.
“Clear. Nothing in there,” he confirmed, rising.
Finnian and Adrix finished a cursory examination of the masked men.
“Anything useful?” I asked, keeping an eye on our captive.
“Potentially,” Finnian replied, his voice thoughtful as he held up a gloved hand, showing a small, almost invisible puncture mark on his own glove.
“They both have a crescent moon tattoo, freshly inked, on their left wrists. Identical to the assassins who attacked us on the road.”
“Everything is connected,” Adrix stated, his gaze fixed on the tattoos, a new layer of understanding dawning in his eyes.
He paused, the silence charged.
“The question is how deep does this rot go.”
“This unconscious one looks nothing like them, though,” Finnian observed, gesturing from the plainly dressed, unmasked man on the floor to the masked bodies in their dark, functional gear.
“His clothes are simple – just pants and a white shirt. And no wrist tattoo. He feels… different.”
“Let’s secure him,” Noctis said, already moving to assess their prisoner more closely.
“With what?” Finnian asked, his gaze sweeping the bare room.
“We don’t have rope.”
“No,” Noctis said, a rare, fleeting smile touching his lips as he gestured towards Adrix.
“But we have something better. We have a mage. Prop him against the wall.”
Adrix nodded, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes.
His mana flowed, a visible current of light, enveloping the unconscious man’s wrists.
The raw energy solidified, taking the distinct form and appearance of thick, shimmering ropes of pure force that seemed to hum with contained power.
The silence stretched, taut and expectant.
Each tick of an unseen clock, each breath we took, seemed deafening.
Then, a flicker.
His eyes opened and closed slowly, then snapped wide, pupils dilating as they darted around the room, taking in the strange glow of Adrix’s mana-light, landing on each of us – armed strangers – before finally settling on the two still, masked figures on the floor.
Pure, unadulterated terror washed over his face.
“Wha-what’s going on?” he stammered, his voice cracking, laced with a fear so potent it was almost palpable.
“Did…did you kill them? Oh, please don’t kill me! I’ll tell you anything you want! Anything!”
We exchanged loaded glances.
In Noctis’s eyes, I saw grim determination; in Adrix’s, a flicker of distaste he quickly masked. Finnian just looked pale.
As usual, Noctis took the lead, kneeling before the bound man, his gaze intense, pinning the captive like an insect.
“Let’s start with what, precisely, you are doing here.”
The man stuttered, his eyes darting nervously between us.
“I…I don’t know everything, I swear! I just…I measure the mana of the people they bring me. They pay me for the readings.”
“Why you?” Noctis pressed, his voice dangerously soft.
“I’m not sure!” the man replied, his voice trembling, shrinking back against the cold stone.
“They just…they found me. I was destitute. My little shop went under; I lost everything. They offered coin, a place to stay. What choice did I have?”
“Do you know where they took the girl? The one brought in just before us?” I asked, stepping forward slightly, letting him see the glint of my dagger.
“Yes!” he said quickly, his hands straining, though futilely, against the mana restraints.
“Yes, I can take you there. I heard them talking.”
“Okay, take us,” Noctis said, hauling the man roughly to his feet, keeping a firm, bruising hand on his shoulder.
“No tricks. Just in case you suddenly feel an urge to run.”
Visibly shaking, his teeth chattering softly, the man led us slowly down another dimly lit, musty hallway.
“Right here,” the man mumbled, his voice barely a croak, stopping before a heavy, scarred wooden door.
“How many people inside?” Finnian asked, his eyes narrowed, his hand resting on the hilt of his own blade.
The man’s eyes flickered towards Finnian, then skittered back down to the floorboards.
“J-just three, I think. The ones from earlier today.”
“What are they doing with them?” Finnian pressed, his voice hard.
“I don’t know. Truly. I don’t see them again after I measure their mana,” the man replied, his voice a near-inaudible whisper.
“Anyone else inside this room? Guards?” I asked, my own hand instinctively resting on the grip of my dagger beneath my cloak.
“No, just the… the subjects I measured, I believe.”
Best to be safe, always safe, I thought, quietly drawing my dagger, the polished steel a sliver of moonlight in the gloom.
Finnian, after a tense nod from Noctis, cautiously eased the door open.
I dashed inside.
The scene that greeted us was grim, the air thick and cloying, tasting of mildew and despair.
The young girl from the street was curled into a tight ball against the far, damp stone wall, her head resting on her knees, her small shoulders shaking.
Another girl, barely older, looking equally distressed and hollow-eyed, was huddled beside her, a protective arm around the younger one.
Opposite them, on the filthy straw-strewn floor, sat a man, his clothes tattered and filthy, his movements lethargic, eyes vacant.
“Let’s get you out,” Adrix said, his voice surprisingly gentle.
His mana surged forth, not as ropes this time, but as a focused lance of energy that utterly vaporized the heavy iron lock on the door.
It clattered loudly to the floor in pieces.
The three individuals inside flinched at the sound, then slowly, unsteadily, as if their limbs had forgotten how to move, rose.
“Am I… am I really going home?” the man asked, his voice weak, cracked, and dusty with disuse.
“Yes, you are,” Finnian replied, his voice soft, though a shadow of disappointment crossed his face as his eyes completed their sweep of the small, miserable room.
He added, almost to himself, “Liora isn’t here, though.”
My own heart, which had dared a small leap of hope, sank like a stone.
“Are you absolutely certain no one else is here?” Finnian asked the guide, stepping closer, his tone now insistent, edged with a frustration that mirrored my own.
“Ye…yes, I’m sure,” the man stammered, visibly wilting under Finnian’s glare, avoiding his gaze.
“I haven’t tested anyone else recently. Not for days.”
“How do we handle him?” Adrix asked, his gaze cold as he fixed it on the trembling informant.
The man flinched violently at Adrix’s question.
“Please…please don’t hurt me. I did what you asked!”
“I can handle it. Give me a moment,” I said, stepping out of the cell-like room.
I focused on my dimensional storage to summon a fade potion.
The liquid swirled in its glass vial, a mesmerizing soft lavender that pulsed with a faint, internal light, smelling faintly of dried herbs and something akin to ozone.
Returning, I held it up.
“He needs to take this.”
“What is it?” the man whispered, tears welling in his terrified eyes, his gaze glued to the gently glowing vial.
“It’ll just make you forget the last few hours, I promise. It’ll be okay,” I said calmly, my voice softer than I intended.
“I’m sorry, but you don’t really have a choice in this.”
“Okay,” he said slowly, a shudder wracking his frame as he nodded.
“Okay, I’ll drink it.”
I carefully unstoppered the vial and lifted it to his lips.
He drank the entire contents in three desperate gulps.
“Get ready to catch him,” I warned.
He swayed on his feet.
“I thought you said…” Finnian began, but the informant’s eyes rolled back, and he crumpled, falling unconscious.
“He’ll be asleep for about fifteen minutes, maybe a little more. We need to get out of here, now.”
They gently laid the man on the floor, and Adrix, with a dismissive flick of his wrist, released the shimmering mana restraints, which dissolved into nothingness.
The three freed captives followed us out, their steps still a little unsteady but quickening with every yard gained from that dreadful building.
“Thank you… thank you so much for saving us,” the young girl sobbed, her voice thick with relief and exhaustion, before she and the others turned and hurried off into the darkening streets, melting into the evening crowds.
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