The midnight violet sky overlooked Vallenport. The twin moons of Lunaris and Noctis casting overlapping shadows across the weathered stones of the manor’s courtyard.

  Tavalor sat in his garden. Unable to sleep. He took a deep breath in. The air carried the smell of violets, jasmine, mingling with the salt of the canals. His sense of smell had improved to the point where he could smell more, but he chose to keep the range of this scent limited.

  Tavalor sat cross-legged on a flat meditation stone, his back to a crumbling fountain that had once been the centerpiece of the garden.

  His palm rested on the knowledge gem that he had recovered from Vallen’s dungeon. Its surface capturing and fracturing the moonlight into prismatic patterns that danced across his features.

  He turned the gem slowly, watching how the light shifted inside its crystalline structure. Three weeks had passed since the escape from collapsing ruins beneath Vallenport, but the gem still kept its secrets.

  [Appraisal] was no help:

  ===Knowledge Gem===

  A hint of life

  ====

  The magic pulsed gently against his skin, as if it recognized him. He channeled a bit of his essence into the stone.

  The gem flared briefly, its interior swirling with mist-like patterns before fading back into nothing.

  Tavalor sighed, his patience wearing thin after countless experiments.

  He reached for the leather pouch at his belt, extracting the smaller and darker gems, the random bits and pieces that he had collected throughout the expedition.

  Unlike the solidity of the Knowledge Gem, the smaller gems had started to fade around the edges when he had come out of the dungeon. They now seemed to drink in the moonlight, rather than reflect it.

  Tavalor held both stones together, wondering if one might activate the other.

  The reaction was immediate. And violent.

  A hairline crack appeared on the smaller gem, spreading like an ice fracturing under pressure. Before Tavalor could react, a high pitched keening sound emanated from within. The gem shattered in his palm, the fragments dissolving into particles of air that dispersed into the night air.

  ‘Interesting,’ Tavalor muttered to himself. Brushing the residual dust from his palm.

  He felt the knowledge gem in his hand vibrating, as if it was hungry.

  He pulled his pouch open, pouring all of the small gems onto the Knowledge Gem. They all developed the same fracture pattern, the magic within destabilizing in a chain reaction.

  His [Dragon Sight] caught movement from the perimeter of his property. Swift and coordinated shadows slipping over his garden wall.

  Six figures, moving with practiced precision.

  An ambush.

  Tavalor remained seated, pretending to be oblivious to the danger. The attackers all arrived quickly, moving from shadow to shadow before encircling him.

  The first assassin attacked without hesitation, a blade aimed for his throat.

  Tavalor calmly caught the blade between to fingers. ‘Uninvited guests, how inconsiderate.’

  ***

  The Free City of Miragos, Dorian Family Manor, Weeks Earlier

  ‘What happened?’

  In the side hall, a dozen men, all injured, in golden armor kneeled on the ground. Sweating. Not daring to lift up their heads. They were Dorian’s guards, the ones who had been left at the hotel to keep guard.

  Standing in front of them was a man in a black robe, with golden stars sown through it. The spitting image of Dorian, except older and with a mustache. Also he was in a disheveled state. His eyes sunken, his beard unkempt. He looked rather sinister.

  He was Sir Dorian. Dorian’s father. He was the one behind the plan of sending Dorian out.

  They had sent out several hundred [C-Class] guards, even requested help from the major merchant clans of the Free City of Miragos. Only they returned with only a dozen guards.

  Even his son. His son was gone. The veins were popping out with rage.

  ‘Sir… Sir Dorian, we weren’t sure what happened. They went out to find some clues and never came back…’

  Sir Dorian ground his teeth. He ground his teeth so loudly that you could hear it.

  He pulled out a soul-token. A broken soul token.

  The guards were even more frightened when they saw that. Dorian was dead. His token was broken. They began to sweat even heavier.

  Sir Dorian barely choked out the words: ‘What happened to my son?’

  ‘We don’t know. The only thing we heard that it was an [A-Class] mission.’

  ‘What?’ Sir Dorian’s eyes widened, thinking that he had misheard.

  ‘It was an [A-Class] mission,’ said another voice quietly.

  ‘How is that possible? How could that be?’

  According to the information that they had gathered, there weren’t a lot of [B-Class] experts in Vallenport, let alone anywhere. A [B-Class] was enough found a city or clan on. An [A-Class] would be enough to found a dynasty.

  He had sent them out with the golden family armor, a B Class heirloom that could defend against several [A-Class] attacks. That should have been enough to protect him in such a dangerous environment.

  In his rage, Sir Dorian unleashed his pressure.

  The cultivators, already injured from the beating they had endured earlier, spat out blood. Some of them fainted.

  ‘Who, who killed my son?’ Sir Dorian was furious. He still couldn’t accept the fact.

  ‘Tavalor?!’ screamed one of the men.

  ‘Tavalor?’ questioned Sir Dorian.

  ‘That’s right. Dorian ran into some guy called Tavalor when looking for clues. We saw him still alive, before we came back.’

  Sir Dorian stopped, looking thoughtful. If there was someone who could come back alive from an [A-Class] dungeon, he at least had to be [B-Class]. It was impossible for him now to know about him?

  Had Vallenport been hiding its strength all along?

  Thinking about this, he rushed outside the hall and headed towards the bad side of town.

  ***

  Back at Tavalor’s mansion, if there were any outsiders present they would have recognized the six men in black. They were famous.

  Six Blades. The most famous assassination group in recent years. The six were known for the fast, relentless attacking technique. [Storm of Blades]. It would be a quiet night then suddenly six blades would attack from angles slicing and slicing again and again from the darkness relentlessly and violently until their target was dead.

  They had assassinated countless high level figures. They were widely known and praised in the industry. They could be said to be at the peak of their fame.

  The mission this time had come from Sir Dorian. Assassinate Tavalor and collect any evidence of his sons death. As long as they could collect any worthwhile information, their rewards would be incomparably generous.

  They were all [C-Class] a decently strong team.

  The six had all aggressively slashed at Tavalor following a solid minute with their famous [Storm of Blades].

  But it had failed.

  Tavalor had stopped every blade with a finger.

  The six of them stood awkwardly at a stalemate. Tavalor was too strong. Even at [C-Class] their technique was good enough to have killed several [B-Class] figures, but Tavalor was simply too powerful.

  The six looked at each other in silence.

  ‘Who are you people? What are you doing here?’ Tavalor asked calmly. Not a hint of fear in his voice.

  They all wore numbered masks, one to six. Number six spoke: ‘You are unlucky, blame yourself. You should have been asleep, but now you court death.’

  Number Six slipped out a silver needle from somewhere and threw it at Tavalor. It changed into sharp light and accelerated towards Tavalor. The others joined in, throwing a range of weapons.

  Tavalor looked up at the two moons in the night sky. The wind blew. ‘What a beautiful moon, for these guys to die under.’

  Tavalor had figured it out. It probably had something to do with the dungeon. Maybe some people from the Free City of Miragos.

  Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

  The weapons all hit Tavalor’s skin and dropped to the ground.

  ‘Third?’

  They all stopped in shock.

  Tavalor raised his right arm and a fireball appeared. Small, simple. Something that many [E-Class] warriors had mastered, but ominous in his hands.

  The Fireball flew towards Number Six.

  Boom.

  A terrifying amount of energy swept out, causing dazzling flame and dust that appeared gorgeous in the night.

  They all managed to defend themselves with different spells, but they were sent flying back by the shockwave.

  When the flames were dispersed, Number Six was lying on the ground. His entire body had been burned to ashes. There was a hole the size of a fist that gone through his chest. Even after he had used a defensive spell and a defensive formation.

  Number Six was dead.

  ‘What…. What are you?’ Asked Number One. The others looked on in horror as well.

  Tavalor looked down at his right hand. He opened and closed his right hand in thought. Still not enough control, I wasn’t supposed to kill him.

  Tavalor stepped forward, and indifferent look on his face. ‘Answer my questions’

  Another fireball appeared in his hand.

  ‘No, no,’ seeing his Number One paled in fright. If Number Six died with one blast it would have been the same for him.

  Number One kneeled, ‘I’ll speak.’

  Tavalor paused mid-throwing motion.

  ‘What are you hear for?’

  Number One: ‘We were sent here to assassinate everyone in the manor and collect clues about the death of Dorian.’

  ‘Who sent you?’

  Number One: ‘We can’t tell you that-,’

  Before he had managed to finish the answer a cluster of golden light flew out, landing on Number Two. This time it was more powerful and all that was left was a crater.

  Tavalor had another fireball in hand before he turned back to Number One. ‘Who sent you?’

  ‘Sir Dorian. Its Sir Dorian of the Free City of Miragos. He sent us here.’

  Even though there was code that forbade assassins revealing the names of their hiring party, that was without his life on the line. He didn’t want to die here. They had gotten faulty information.

  Tavalor was too strong. Probably [A-Class]. Where did someone so powerful come from and nobody knew who he was?

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  Three more fireballs. Three more craters.

  Only Number One was left. He knelt in shock. Tears of sadness started to stream down his face under the mask. ‘But why? I already answered all of your questions.’

  ‘Did I promise you that I wouldn’t kill you?’ Tavalor said with a mocking smile on his lips.

  Boom.

  With that last fireball, the last of the Six Blades had vanished from the world.

  ‘Sir Dorian,’ Tavalor’s eyes flicked with killing intent.

  Although everything seemed calm, the guys from Miragos had sent assassins. If they had met with Emberfist or Luneth, things wouldn’t have gone well.

  More trouble. Even though he didn’t like to cause trouble, trouble still arrived at his door regardless.

  This thing is interesting though.

  He pulled the Knowledge Gem out of his secret space.

  He appraised it again.

  ===Egg===

  A living being

  ====

  It had changed before he had been interrupted. It now resembled an egg, covered in runes.

  Tavalor yawned. He had only woken up because he couldn’t sleep. The activity and making progress on the mystery of the gem made him sleepy. He decided to go back to his room and go back to bed.

  As for Dorian’s family, he would pay them a visit and wipe them out. Pull out the roots and the weeds to avoid future troubles, as the saying goes.

  As Tavalor walked back towards the entrance of his manor, high in the atmosphere a bright golden stream of light fell from the starry sky.

  ***

  Several hours later while asleep Tavalor was awoken by a disturbance. It felt like a strange warning, like a golden dagger floating above his forehead.

  A warning? He though to himself. But of what? What could it be.

  He rolled out of bed, and walked out to the balcony of his manor. He nursed a glass of elderfire whisky, when he felt it. A sudden pressure change. Like the moment before a thunderstorm broke.

  There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The twin moons were even brighter and clearer than earlier in the night, casting a silvery light across Vallenport’s canals.

  From the sky? Tavalor set his glass down, his eyes narrowing as he gazed upwards. [Dragon Sight] activated instantly, his vision piercing the night sky to see what ordinary eyes couldn’t.

  He could see further now. Not just to the edge of the world, or the clouds but beyond it.

  He saw a massive golden cannon. Brightly gleaming and gold. The size of a planet. Pointing down at the surface.

  In the cannon – a gathering of energy began a concentration of structured magic so dense it bent the fabric of reality around it. Golden light identical to the Watcher’s power he’d encountered in the dungeons earlier, coalescing into a massive sphere.

  ‘So,’ Tavalor murmured, ‘they didn’t waste any time.’

  With a massive boom, the cannon fired.

  The cannonball of energy descended, gathering speed. Not a random attack, but this was precisely calculated. He felt locked onto, by that dagger of energy earlier. As it fell, it transformed, compressing into a fiery meteor of golden energy that tore through the night sky like a falling star.

  Citizens across Vallenport pointed upwards, gasping at what they believed was an astronomical event. Market-goers paused mid-transaction, gondoliers stopped to stare, even the night guards on patrol halted, transfixed by the spectacle.

  Tavalor stood, draining his whisky in on swallow.

  ‘Annoying.’ He rolled up his sleeves.

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  For the first time, he used a large portion of his strength. At least half. He extended a hand towards the meteor, palm upwards.

  It might have seemed like a futile gesture to people watching. But beneath his skin, scales glimmered momentarily. His eyes flashed with draconic power.

  High in the sky, the meteor struck an invisible barrier. It didn’t explode or dissipate, instead hanging suspended, vibrating with frustrated power, golden energy spilling out like solar flares.

  To Tavalor it felt as if he had grabbed a bee. Puny and weak.

  He closed his fists. Slowly. The meteor compressed. Its energy slowly shrinking.

  Then with a flick of his wrist, he sent it arcing away from Vallenport, its new trajectory carrying it southeast, directly towards Miragos, the rival city controlled by Dorian’s family.

  The redirected meteor streaked across the night sky, leaving a trail of golden fire in it’s wake before disappearing beyond the horizon. Seconds later, a distant flash illuminated the southeastern sky, followed by a rumble that shook the foundation of buildings many miles way, as well as several earthquakes and tsunamis.

  From his vantage point on the Adventurers Guild tower, a gnome watched the entire exchange. Crestfall smiled brightly, spyglass held to one eye, as the meteor changed course.

  ‘It must be him,’ he whispered, collapsing the spyglass with a snap.

  He chucked. Half in satisfaction half in fear. The implications were staggering. No ordinary adventurer could redirect a Watchers attack. Not even an [A-Class] mage.

  The Watchers had overplayed their hand and revealed the most valuable piece on the board. Tavalor was at least an [S-Class]. Vallenport finally had someone powerful enough to defend it.

  Dynasties were built established by [S-Class]’s after all. The game had changed entirely.

  ‘Tavalor,’ Crestfall muttered, ‘who exactly are you?’

  ***

  Dorian Family Headquarters, Free City of Miragos

  The Dorian family of Miragos headquarters occupied the tallest spire in Mirgaos. A gleaming tower of silver and glass that pierced the clouds above the Free City.

  For seven generations, the Dorians had been the defacto rulers of Miragos, though they never claimed the titles of nobility outright. They preferred the illusion of democracy, while keeping their hands firmly on the levers of power.

  Inside a polished marble hall, in one of the upper floors, several figures gathered around an oval table. The light of enchanted orbs cast long shadows across concerned faces.

  ‘Three weeks!’ Marcus Dorian, or Sir Dorian Senior, the family patriarch slammed his fist on the table. His once handsome face, a clone of the dead Dorian, was a mask of fury, deep lines etched between his brows. ‘Three weeks since we sent the Six Blades to Vallenport and no communication.’

  The six were some of the most elite and consistent assassins of Miragos. They could easily handle any [B-Class] figures. They hadn’t ever failed an assignment. Until now.

  ‘Before them the Shadow Hand, Crimson Triad. All vanished.’ Sir Dorian Senior’s voice grew quiet, more dangerous. ‘Something is going on in Vallenport, someone powerful must be there.’

  Elder Cassandra Ward cleared her throat. She represented the Ward family, longtime allies and frenemies of the Dorians and masters of Miragos extensive spy network. Her weathered face carried an expression of perpetual and knowing amusement. As if life was one big private joke.

  ‘My sources confirm none of the shadows we sent reached their target, ‘ she said, her thin lips curling into a grin. ‘They simply disappeared. This Tavalor is no ordinary nobleman.’

  ‘What of my son?’ asked Sir Dorian Senior, his voice breaking slightly. ‘Any news of what happened?’

  The absence of the young Dorian heir hung heavily in the room. After the dungeon incident beneath Vallenport, he had vanished. As confirmed by the Soul Token. Dorian Senior still held to slim hopes though.

  ‘Nothing concrete,’ Cassandra replied softly, ‘but there are whispers. Rumours of a strange golden light.’

  Horas Silver tongue, the family's chief diplomat, stood from his chair. ‘I've drafted a formal complaint to the Council of Free Cities. If we present this as an attack on Miragos' sovereignty—the disappearance of our citizens, potentially the heir to one of our great houses—we can demand a formal investigation.’

  ‘Politics?’ Marcus spat. ‘While my son is missing? While our assassins vanish into thin air?’

  ‘It's leverage," Horas insisted. ‘The Council has authority to sanction Vallenport. Trade embargoes at minimum. Military action if warranted. Given our influence with three of the seven council members—’

  ‘We've tried subtlety,’ Marcus interrupted. ‘We've tried politics. We've tried assassination. None have worked!’ He turned to the hulking figure at the far end of the table. ‘Commander, what of our more direct options?’

  Commander Fredric, head of Miragos' elite guard, nodded grimly. ‘The Sky breaker is prepared, sir. Fully armed and crewed. At your command, we can launch within—‘

  A sudden flash of golden light burst through the massive windows, blinding everyone in the chamber. The tower shuddered violently, glassware shattering and furniture toppling. A roar like a thousand thunderstorms filled the air as the meteor—redirected by Tavalor—struck the Dorian spire dead centre.

  The last thing Marcus Dorian saw was the ceiling caving in, a wave of golden fire consuming everything.

  The Dorian spire collapsed in spectacular fashion, its elegant architecture reduced to rubble in seconds. With it it took half of the surrounding city.

  Where Miragos' tallest structure had stood,and half the major districtonly a smoking crater remained, golden energy still crackling across the ruins.

  ***

  The next morning after the Meteor thing, Tavalor strolled towards the Gilded Hearth as if nothing had happened. He overheard some interesting conversation as he walked towards the cafe.

  ‘Did you guys hear?’

  ‘Hear what?’

  ‘Miragos was hit by a meteor.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Of course. Sir Dorian Senior, and several senior Council Members were all killed. Half of the major district was razed to the ground.’

  ‘That serious?’

  ‘It’s Karma,’ replied an old man with a walking stick. Shaking his stick.

  A lot of people gloated like the old man did.

  ‘They deserved it! They absolutely deserved it.’

  The Free City of Miragos and Vallenport were rivals. They were the only two city states within several thousand kilometers of each other. They were rivals.

  Vallenport was a city ran by nobles, and they operated on the concept of noblesse oblige. That with wealth, power and prestige, came responsibilities. So Vallenport was ran with a mostly kind hand.

  The Free City of Miragos was ran by a Council of greedy merchants. They stole and plundered wealth from everywhere. They exploited ordinary people everywhere. They annihilated clans, companies and other rivals for no reason.

  Vallenport never attacked ordinary people. Only moving to defend its interests.

  Miragos was powerful. So people didn’t dare to say anything. But now they had suffered a huge loss. How couldn’t people resist in taking advantage.

  All across Vallenport, various versions of that conversation took place.

  The higher ups of Vallenport through. Had a different reaction. It was nothing but laughter and joy. Many a patriarchal figure from different noble clans walked around beaming ear to ear with joy.

  Who would have thought? A random meteor destroyed one the most powerful clans of Miragos.

  Tavalor quickly arrived and walked into the cafe. It was exactly as he remembered it. Warm golden light. The aroma of fresh pastries and the hum of enchanted brews being prepared behind the counter.

  Brennan looked up from arranging a display of starfruit muffins, her eyes widening slightly. ‘Lord Tavalor! We haven’t seen you in weeks.’

  ‘I’ve been preoccupied,’ he replied, settling into his usual window seat. The morning sunlight streamed through the glass, catching the steam rising from freshly brewed enchanted drinks.

  ‘The usual?’ Brenna asked, already reaching for a blue Calming Brew on the shelf.

  Tavalor nodded. Then sat back. Relaxing in the familiar rhythm of his morning routine.

  Outside, gondolas glided along the canals, their pilots cheerfully calling out to one another. In the streets, merchants haggled, children played, city guards patrolled with casual vigilance.

  Life in Vallenport continued, untouched by the cataclysm that had struck Miragos.

  Inside hushed conversation continued to reference it though. Nervous glances to the southeastern horizon, where smoke still rose form rival city. News of the ‘meteor strike’ raised quickly, though few connected it to Tavalor.

  Brenna returned with his order – a steaming cup of blue Calming Brew and a starfruit muffin, its top glistening with crystallized honey. ‘There’s been talk,’ she said quietly, glancing around to ensure no one was listening. ‘About Miragos. They’re saying it was no natural event.’

  Tavalor took a sip of his brew, savoring the familiar blend of spiced caramel and soothing vanilla. ‘People’ll always talk,’ he replied noncommittally.

  He had barely finished half his muffin, when the cafe door swung open, the bell chiming softly. A diminutive figure entered – D. Crestfall, his blue weathered gnomish features arranged in a pleasant smile that didn’t quite reach his calculating eyes.

  Without an invitation, Crestfall slid into the chair opposite to Tavalor, signaling to Brenna for a drink of his own.

  ‘Beautiful morning,’ the gnome observed. ‘Perfect day for cafe-sitting. Almost makes you forget about the meteors falling form the sky, assassins in the night and cities declaring war.’

  Tavalor raised an eyebrow and continued to eat a muffin: ‘Is there something specific you wanted Vice-Guildmaster?’

  ‘Three assassination attempts in two weeks. A meteor that changes in two weeks. The complete destruction of the Dorian family ancestral towers. I’d say there’s quite a lot to discuss.’

  ‘Coincidences,’ Tavalor replied.

  ‘Coincidences,’ Crestfall repeated, a knowing smile spreading on his face. ‘What about the rumors that Miragos may declare war on Vallenport? That they are preparing their famed airship fleet for a retaliatory strike?’

  Tavalor finally set down his muffin, meeting the gnome’s gaze directly. ‘The assassins were dealt with. The meteor was dealt with. If Miragos wants war, they’ll also be dealt with.’

  ‘You speak like this is a personal matter – but this is an entire city state.’

  ‘Isn’t it a personal matter though?’ Tavalor remained calm. ‘They came looking for me. They’re the ones who sent assassins.’

  ‘And the war? What about the possible casualties?’

  ‘There won’t be any. I’ll sort it out before then.’

  ‘Just like that? I’ll sort it out?’

  ‘Just like that,’ Tavalor confirmed. ‘I’ve sorted everything out before, Vice Guildmaster.’ He really emphasized the Vice Guildmaster.

  A heavy silence fell between them as Brennan arrived with Crest fall’s drink, a concoction that shifted between amber and emerald. The gnome thanked her with a nod but didn’t touch the brew.

  ‘You’re not what you appear to be, Lord Tavalor,’ he said finally. ‘I think we both know that.’

  Tavalor smiled. You faker. I remember your stat sheet. You’re also an [S-Class] as well and you’re just wandering around pretending to be weak little gnome.

  Tavalor responded: ‘None of us are, Vice Guildmaster. None of us are.’

  ***

  Back at the manor, sunlight filtered through the garden’s ancient trees, dappling the stone courtyard with patterns of light and shadow. Tavalor reclined in a weathered chair, legs stretched before him, watching Emberfist train in measured interest.

  She moved through her forms with controlled precision, each stance flowing through the next like water. Her gauntlets flared with concentrated flame, not the wild infernos that she unleashed in battle, but tightly controlled bursts that scorched the air without igniting the nearby foliage.

  Her control is improving. Tavalor thought to himself, lazily swirling the Knowledge Gem/Egg through his fingers. The dark crystal had changed since the night of the meteor.

  Its surface now rippled with subtle movement, like a heartbeat.

  Emberfist transitioned into a more aggressive form, her kicks and punches leaving trails of crimson fire. Her breath grew heavier and more ragged.

  The gem in his hand suddenly grew warm. He looked down to see hairline fractures spreading across its surface, glowing with faint purple light. ‘Interesting,’ he murmured.

  The cracks widened, not with the violent shattering of the previous gems, but with deliberate purpose – as if something were pushing from within. Emberfist paused her training, wiping sweat from her brow as she approached.

  ‘What’s happening?’ She asked, narrowing at the gem.

  Before Tavalor could answer, the gem shook itself out of his hand and landed on the ground. The it split open like an egg. Within the broken shell, a small creature unfurled itself – a being of pure shadow, no larger than a sparrow, with pinpricks of violet light for eyes. It stretched tiny wing like appendages and shook itself, scattering gem fragments.

  ‘It… it hatched,’ Emberfist said, surprise evident in her voice.

  The shadow creature regarded them both with curious intensity, turning its head from Tavalor to Emberfist and back. It made no sound, but its intent was clear as it hopped towards Tavalor. Leaving tiny footprints of darkness that faded seconds later.

  It stopped in front of Tavalor. Looking at him with its head cocked in curiosity.

  ‘What is it?’ Emberfist asked, leaning closer.

  Do I want to cheat? Tavalor thought to himself. Tavalor had a rule. He had promised himself not to use [Appraisal] too much. It would ruin the surprise for a lot of things.

  I’ll leave it alone. He finally decided.

  ‘I’m not entirely sure,’ Tavalor admitted. He reached into his system space and pulled out a starfruit muffin, crumbling it, then offering it to the little creature. The shadow eyed the offering, then darted forward, consuming the crumbs with a motion like water absorbing ink.

  ‘It’s almost… cute,’ Emberfist said, he voice softening as she reached out slowly. ‘Maybe we could train it? A familiar might be –’

  The shadow darted away from her outstretched hand, climbing up Tavalor’s arm to perch on his shoulder, its tiny form puffing up in what looked remarkably like indignation.

  ‘I don’t think it likes you,’ Tavalor observed, amusement playing at the corners of his mouth.

  ‘Nonsense,’ Emberfist insisted, reaching again. ‘I’m excellent with creatures of all –’ She broke off as the shadow hissed – a sound like wind through dead leaves – and flicked what might have been a tail at her.

  ‘What an attitude,’ Tavalor noted, offering the shadow another crumb. It accepted delicately from his fingers, then turned to Emberfist and made a movement that looked suspiciously like preening.

  Over the next hour, as Emberfist resumed her training, the shadow creature’s personality emerged. It would dart around Tavalor, performing increasingly complex aerial maneuvers as if showing off. Whenever Emberfist glanced their way, it would cuddle against Tavalor’s neck or sit primly on his knee, radiating smug satisfaction.

  ‘That thing is doing it on purpose,’ Emberfist growled after a particularly impressive barrel roll that she’d clearly been meant to see.

  Tavalor stroked the creatures insubstantial form, feeling a strange connection forming between them. Its learning quickly. Also its very intelligent.

  The shadow creature fluttered to the arm of Tavalor’s chair, stretching in what could only be described as a self-satisfied manner. Emberfist glowered at it, and in response it nestled closer to Tavalor.

  ‘I think, I’ll name you, Little Shadow.’ Tavalor said.

  Little shadow nearly fell off the arm of the chair. Little Shadow then flew up in the air, chirping at Tavalor in anger at the horrible name.

  Emberfist laughed at it, her laughter floated through the air like soft bells. Tavalor smiled.

  ***

  Ding, ding, ding, ding. The sound of alarm bells went off. The peace in Vallenport vanished once again.

  Four massive vessels appeared on the horizon, their hulls gleaming with enchanted steel, sails billowing despite the absence of wind.

  The Sky-breakers of Miragos. Legendary airships capable of cleaving clouds and raining destruction upon enemies blow. They approached from the southeast, their shadow gradually darkening the canals and street as citizens looked up in horror.

  Market-goers abandoned their purchases. Parents grabbed their children and fled indoors.

  The city guard rang even more alarm bells, their clanging echoing across the districts as defenders rushed to positions.

  Tavalor was in his garden when he heard the commotion. Little Shadow perched on his shoulder, its tiny form vibrating with excitement.

  Within seconds, Emberfist burst through the manor door, her gauntlets already aflame. ‘Sky-breakers,’ she said pointing to the southern sky. ‘Four of them. Miragos is making a move.’

  Tavalor nodded calmly, letting Little Shadow hop from his shoulder to his outstretched palm. ‘It was only a matter of time.’

  The ships positioned themselves strategically above Vallenport’s central plaza – the heart of the city where the Grand Canal met the main marketplace. On the deck of the lead vessel, a figure in gleaming armor stepped to the railing, voice magically amplified to carry across the entire city.

  ‘Citizens of Vallenport! This is Commander Dredic of the Miragos Elite Guard. Your city is responsible for the unprovoked destruction of our sovereign territory. Surrender to face Miragos justice, or face the consequences.’

  The plaza had emptied of civilians, but it wasn’t deserted. Standing alone in its center was a familiar gone, his weathered hands planted firmly on its hips as he started up at the floating armada. D. Crestfall didn’t look frightened – he looked annoyed.

  ‘Typical Miragos,’ his voice carried across the sky without magical aid. ‘Always bringing cannons into a conversation.’

  From the lead Sky-breaker, a figure leapt down – a blur of motion that landed with precision on the cobblestones thirty feet below. As he straightened, his features became clear: a tall man with burnished copper skin, eyes the color of storm clouds, and armor etched with lightning patterns. Recognition flashed across the face of every witness.

  ‘Veren Stormheard,’ Emberfist whispered. ‘Miragos’ foremost battle-mage. [A-Class].’

  Crestfall stepped forwards, unimpressed by the dramatic entrance. ‘Stormheart. You’re looking well for someone serving a dead family.’

  ‘The Dorians may have fallen, but Miragos still stands,’ Stormheart voice boomed loudly through Vallenport electricity crackling around his fingertips. ‘As will justice.’

  ‘Justice?’ Crestfall laughed, the loud sound incongruously deep from his small frame. ‘Is that what you call bombardment? An excuse for a natural phenomenon? The Council of the Free Cities will have something to say about this.’

  ‘The Council has authorized this action,’ Stormheart said, drawing a sealed parchment from his belt. ‘The unprovoked attack on Miragos will not go unanswered.’

  They had drawn a crowd – not civilians, but Vallenport’s defenders. City guards, formed a perimeter around the plaza, crossbows trained on the ships above. Members of the Mages Guild took positions on surrounding rooftops, their hands glowing with prepared spells.

  Crestfall’s expression darkened: ‘You have no authority here, Stormheart. Take your ships and leave, or face the consequences.’

  The battle-mage smiled coldly: ‘I was hoping you’d say that.’

  With blinding speed, Stormheart struck, a bolt of lightning erupting from his outstretched hand. Crestfall didn’t dodge – he simply stood his ground as the electricity enveloped him.

  They don’t have large scale barriers anymore? Thought Tavalor to himself. Were the Dragons and the Dragon Sanctuary the last of the places to have them? Or were they useless enough not to matter?

  After all, Tavalor had spent a lot of money to install barriers at his manor and they had proven useless.

  When the light faded, the gnome remained unharmed, the lightning dissipated around in a bright blue barrier.

  After the barrier faded stood a completely different man. Old, tall, thin man with a long silver beard.

  It was Kaelen Silverbeard, the Guildmaster of the Adventurers Guild.

  The audience watching murmured in shock. Silverbeard was rumored to be [S-Class] figure, but publicly he was known to be [A-Class].

  Silverbeard stroked his beard and looked at Stormheart in amusement.

  An [A-Class] battle. Tavalor leaned forward in interest. He had climbed to the top of a tree in his garden and with his [Dragon Sight] he had a front row view.

  Silverbeard drew a rune in the air that solidified into a glowing blade.

  The plaza erupted into combat.

  Stormheart unleashed a barrage of lightning strikes that Silverbeard parried with his runic blade. Each clash sending shockwaves across the air.

  They moved with inhuman speed. Their magic warping the space around them.

  Crestfall stood in the back. Summoning shields to stop any damage occurring.

  From the remaining ships, two more figures descended. Warriors in Miragos colors. Their movements also suggesting [A-Class] power.

  ‘Reinforcements,’ Emberfist was surprised, ‘this is getting out of hand.’

  Before Tavalor could respond, movements caught his attention. From opposite ends of the plaza, a set of twin figures emerged. Dressed in Vallenport blues. Their armour gleaming, they leapt to intercept the Miragos reinforcements.

  ‘Three versus three,’ Tavalor observed.

  Silverbeard vs Stormheart.

  Crestfall vs one of the figures who had dropped from the sky. A woman wielding twin scimitars of burning energy.

  The twin figures fighting two versus one.

  Above the battle the Sky-breakers began to reposition themselves, their weapon ports opening to reveal arcane cannons.

  The largest ship, the flagship, glowed charging, preparing a devastating barrage.

  ‘This might destroy half the city,’ said Emberfist with concern.

  Little Shadow, still perched on its shoulder, suddenly grew agitated. Its tiny form vibrated with excitement as it stared at the Sky-breakers, its violet eyes fixed on something Tavalor couldn’t see.

  The flagship's main deck shimmered with gathering power. Six summoning circles activated simultaneously, each disgorging a massive beast—chimeras with lion bodies, dragon wings, and scorpion tails. Battle-beasts, bred for war and enhanced with magic to [A-Class] combat potential.

  Little Shadow chirped – the second sound Tavalor had heard it make – and it launched form his shoulder, streaking upwards towards the flagship like a bold of living darkness.

  ‘What’s it doing?’ Emberfist asked, watching the tiny shadow race towards the massive warship.

  ‘It’s hungry,’ Tavalor smiled faintly. He could feel the gnawing hunger though the bond they had started to form.

  Upon reaching the deck, Little Shadow paused, hovering above the chimeras. The beasts sensed its presence, their heads swivelling upward, jaws open in threatening roars. To the Miragos soldiers, it must have seemed comical—a tiny shadow facing monsters twenty times its size.

  Then Little Shadow changed.

  Its small form expanded, spreading like spilled ink across the deck. Tendrils of darkness lashed out, wrapping around the nearest chimera. The beast struggled, its magically enhanced muscles straining against bonds that seemed impossibly strong. Then it began to dissolve, its essence absorbed into the shadow.

  Panic erupted on the flagship's deck. Soldiers fired arrows and spells at Little Shadow, but the shadow simply flowed around them, growing larger with each beast it consumed. The remaining chimeras scattered, instinctual fear overriding their magical compulsions, but Little Shadow hunted them relentlessly.

  Within minutes, all six [A-Class] battle-beasts had been consumed. Where Little Shadow had been a sparrow-sized creature, it now resembled a massive crow, its form rippling with barely contained power. Violet eyes—dozens of them—opened across its surface, glaring at the terrified crew.

  Commander Dredic, his face pale with shock, shouted orders to retreat, but it was too late. Little Shadow surged forward, flowing around soldiers without harming them, but devouring every magical construct and enchanted weapon in its path. The ship's arcane cannons sputtered and died as Little Shadow consumed their power sources.

  Below, the plaza battle paused as all combatants stared upward at the unfolding scene. The Miragos warriors' confidence faltered as they witnessed their mighty flagship conquered by a living shadow.

  In that moment of distraction, Tavalor made his move. His form blurred as he leapt upward, crossing the vast distance to the nearest support ship in a single bound. He landed on its deck with casual grace, startling the crew.

  ‘I suggest,’ he said calmly, ‘[Intimidation] flaring subtly around him, "that you follow stop.’

  [Intimidation] made him seem like a shadowy figure as well, matching the aesthetic of Little Shadow. Nobody could directly look at him.

  The crew complied instantly, pausing what they were doing as Tavalor approached the helm.

  ‘Turn the ship back towards Miragos.’ With a few deft movements, the sailors disengaged the ship from its formation and turned it south-east—back toward Miragos.

  On the flagship, Little Shadow had cornered Commander Dredic, its massive shadow form looming over the terrified man. But instead of consuming him, it simply stared, dozens of violet eyes blinking in unison.

  ‘Tell the other ships to surrender,’ Tavalor's voice carried across the distance. ‘Or my pet gets dessert.’

  Within minutes, white flags appeared on all Miragos vessels. The invasion had failed, ended not by Vallenport's defenders but by a small shadow creature and its mysterious owner.

  As Tavalor guided the captured ship toward Miragos—a personal delivery of their surrender—whispers spread through Vallenport.

  ‘Did you guys see it?’ people asked. ‘The shadow that devoured [A-Class] beasts like it was nothing?’

  ‘Only an [S-Class] creature could do that,’ came the replies. ‘But where did it come from? Who controls it?’

  All eyes turned to the southern sky, where Tavalor's commandeered ship shrank into the distance.