We all separate, blending into the crowd in different directions. The plan is simple—find Elza and figure out a way to talk to her without getting executed.

  Easier said than done.

  I navigate through the hall, keeping my head down, trying not to attract unwanted attention. Nobles chat in small groups, sipping expensive wine, completely unaware that criminals are among them.

  Then, after searching for a while, I finally spot her.

  Elza stands near a grand balcony, her hands resting gently on the golden railing. The glow of the city lights reflects off her white and gold robes, giving her an almost ethereal presence.

  But something feels... off.

  She’s alone.

  No guards. No nobles. No inquisitors lurking nearby.

  Just her.

  I freeze.

  Why is she alone?

  This seems... suspicious.

  My gut tells me to turn back. Something isn’t right. This is too easy.

  Then again... fuck it.

  The worst thing that can happen is I die.

  …Yeah.

  I take a deep breath and step forward. No turning back now.

  Elza remains still, gazing out over the balcony, seemingly unaware of my approach. Her posture is relaxed, her golden hair catching the soft glow of the lanterns above. For someone so important, she doesn’t seem bothered by the lack of security.

  I clear my throat slightly. “You know, it’s not often that someone of your status stands alone.”

  She turns her head slightly, her expression calm but curious. Her golden eyes settle on me, studying me for a brief moment before she smiles softly.

  “I could say the same to you, Lord…?”

  Crap. I need to stay in character.

  I bow slightly, forcing a polite smile. “Theobald Falcrest. A traveler.”

  Her smile lingers. “A traveler… yet you carry yourself like a man with purpose.”

  I shrug. “Perhaps purpose finds all of us in unexpected places.”

  She chuckles. “That is a poetic way to put it.”

  For a moment, it feels normal. Just a conversation. There’s something oddly calm about her—like she’s used to speaking with people who hide their true intentions. Or maybe she just enjoys the occasional distraction from her role as the Saintess.

  I lean slightly against the balcony, acting casual. “I must say, I didn’t expect the Saintess of Sletopia to be so approachable.”

  Her expression doesn’t change. “Should I be unapproachable?”

  “Well, normally, people with divine status have layers of security between them and people like me.”

  Her eyes flicker with something unreadable. “And what kind of person are you, Lord Falcrest?”

  I pause. That was an interesting choice of words.

  I’m about to respond—

  Then I feel it.

  A sudden shift in the air.

  The fine hairs on my arms stand up. My instincts scream danger.

  Elza tilts her head slightly, her smile not fading, but her voice…

  Changes.

  It’s no longer warm. No longer natural. It’s wrong.

  Flat. Cold.

  “Why are you really here?”

  I freeze.

  Something isn’t right.

  Her eyes remain fixed on me, but there’s a strange emptiness in them now, like the person speaking isn’t actually her.

  Shit.

  Magic.

  Someone is using magic to speak through her.

  I force myself to remain calm, but my body is already tensed.

  Whoever this is…

  They’re trying to learn why we’re here.

  Shit. What do I do?

  Do I find everyone else—

  Before I can even finish my thought, a voice creeps in from behind me.

  A deep, commanding tone. Cold. Unyielding.

  "That should be enough."

  A sharp pulse of magic floods the air.

  Before I can even react, my vision blurs. My body feels heavy, sluggish— like I’ve been hit with some kind of suppression spell.

  Crap! Did we get caught?!

  My thoughts feel slow, distorted. My knees nearly buckle, but I force myself to stay upright.

  I turn my head just enough to catch a glimpse of the figure behind me. A man clad in dark robes, silver sigils lining his sleeves. His face is partially shadowed, but the intensity of his presence is undeniable.

  Another Inquisitor.

  I try to speak, but my throat feels tight. The spell is still weighing me down.

  Elza—if she’s even aware of what’s happening—remains unnaturally still, her golden eyes blank, like she’s been completely hijacked.

  Shit. This is bad.

  I have to do something.

  My pulse pounds in my ears. My vision swims, dark spots creeping at the edges.

  I try to move, to break free of whatever magic is holding me down—but my body won’t respond properly.

  The Inquisitor steps closer. I can barely make out his face, but his voice is crystal clear.

  "How bold." He sounds almost amused. "You and your little group thought you could walk into our halls unnoticed? Foolish."

  Shit. He knows about the others.

  I grit my teeth, forcing my body to move, even as the spell tries to drag me down.

  I need to buy time.

  I exhale sharply, trying to keep my voice steady. “Forgive me, Inquisitor, but I fail to see what you mean.”

  His head tilts slightly. “Ah, still pretending. That’s fine. The spell has already given me more than enough.”

  The spell—he was using Elza as a conduit.

  He was prying into my thoughts.

  My stomach sinks.

  How much did he see?!

  I glance at Elza, hoping for any sign that she’s regaining control—but she remains eerily still.

  The Inquisitor sighs, shaking his head. “Do not worry. You will have plenty of time to explain yourself properly.”

  I tense.

  No. No, no, no. I am not getting dragged into an interrogation room.

  The spell loosens—just slightly.

  That’s all I need.

  I push through the weight, my body finally responding—

  Then—

  BOOM!

  A massive, shattering sound erupts from the main hall, followed by screams and chaos.

  The Inquisitor stiffens, snapping his head toward the noise.

  His mistake.

  I take my chance.

  I break free.

  I don’t think. I react.

  The moment the Inquisitor turns his head, I lunge forward, grab the Saintess by the waist—

  —and jump.

  Wait.

  What the hell did I just do?!

  The cold night air rushes past me as we plummet from the balcony. The city lights blur below, and for a split second, I question every life decision I’ve ever made.

  Elza doesn’t even scream.

  She just blinks at me, completely unbothered.

  Meanwhile, my brain is screaming internally.

  I JUST KIDNAPPED THE SAINTESS.

  OFF A BALCONY.

  IN FRONT OF AN INQUISITOR.

  WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING?!

  THINK, THINK, THINK!

  We’re still falling. The ground is rushing up fast. I tighten my grip around Elza, bracing for impact—

  And then—

  WHAM!

  We crash into a fabric canopy, tearing straight through it before tumbling onto a wooden cart below.

  Barrels of fruit explode on impact.

  My back slams into something solid, and for a second, all I can hear is the ringing in my ears and the splat of crushed apples.

  …Did I just survive that?!

  I groan, peeling myself out of a pile of ruined produce. Elza, still somehow completely composed, sits up beside me, brushing a strand of golden hair from her face.

  She looks at me.

  Then at the wrecked cart.

  Then back at me.

  “…Was this your plan?” she asks, her voice calm as ever.

  I blink at her. "No!"

  I barely have time to recover before shouts explode from above.

  “THERE! DOWN BELOW!”

  I look up—several paladins and guards are already rushing to the edge of the balcony, pointing right at us. The Inquisitor is among them, his expression stone-cold fury.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  Elza tilts her head. “I assume we should run?”

  I grab her wrist and bolt.

  “YES, WE SHOULD RUN!”

  Shit! Where the hell is everyone else?!

  Did they get caught? Knocked out? Worse?!

  No time to think about that now.

  Focus, focus!

  Guards are pouring into the streets, shouting orders, their armor clanking as they close in. We need to get somewhere with fewer people before we’re completely boxed in.

  I scan the area—narrow alleys, market stalls, a few abandoned side streets. Where do I go?!

  Then—

  I see something that shouldn’t be here.

  A massive, familiar blob of pink and brown standing near a pile of broken crates, chewing on what looks like an entire cabbage.

  I blink.

  Wait.

  Is that—

  "PORKY?!"

  The fat boar snorts loudly, his ears perking up as he recognizes me.

  I stare at him. He stares back.

  Elza, still catching her breath, glances at the giant pig. Then at me. Then back at the pig.

  “…Is this part of the plan?”

  I don’t even know anymore.

  "Fuck, you can handle yourself porky." I grab the saintess wrist and continue running. Eventually I reach the church of Father Gabriel. Is this a good Idea? No. But I have no where else to go.

  “Fuck, you can handle yourself, Porky!”

  The massive boar lets out a loud snort, completely unbothered by the chaos unfolding around us. I don’t have time to deal with him—I tighten my grip on Elza’s wrist and keep running.

  Guards shout behind us, their heavy boots pounding against the stone streets.

  We twist through alleyways, dodging market stalls and abandoned carts. My heart is hammering, my lungs burning, but I don’t stop.

  Eventually, I spot a familiar structure looming ahead—the Church of Father Gabriel.

  I skid to a stop in front of the doors, gasping for breath.

  Is this a good idea?

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  No. Absolutely not.

  But I have nowhere else to go.

  I glance at Elza. She’s calm, too calm, barely even out of breath. Her golden eyes flick toward the church, then back at me.

  “…Interesting choice,” she muses.

  I don’t respond. Instead, I push open the doors and drag her inside.

  Gabriel is gonna kill me for this.

  I shove open the doors, practically dragging Elza inside. The heavy wooden doors slam shut behind us, muffling the shouts of the approaching guards.

  The air inside the church is dim and quiet, the faint scent of incense lingering in the air. Candlelight flickers along the stone walls, casting long shadows that make the place feel bigger than it actually is.

  And standing right in the middle of it all—

  Father Gabriel.

  He’s mid-sip from a goblet of wine, looking completely unbothered until he finally notices who I just dragged into his church.

  His eyes widen.

  He chokes on his drink.

  Then—

  "YOU DID WHAT?!"

  I flinch. “Okay, before you freak out—”

  “TOO LATE, I’M ALREADY FREAKING OUT!” He gestures wildly at Elza, his expression torn between shock, rage, and pure disbelief. “WHY—HOW—IS THAT THE SAINTESS?!”

  Elza, completely composed, tilts her head slightly. “You must be Father Gabriel.”

  Gabriel snaps his head toward her, eyes narrowing. “Oh, wonderful, she knows my name! Are you here to smite me? Because if so, just get it over with, I’m tired of running!”

  Elza blinks. “Why would I do that?”

  Gabriel pauses. Then scowls. “Don’t play innocent! You’re the Saintess of Sletopia! You people love executing ‘heretics’ like me!”

  Elza tilts her head the other way. “I have never personally executed anyone.”

  Gabriel squints at her.

  I rub my temples. “Okay, can we just—not do this right now? Guards are literally hunting me down outside.”

  Gabriel pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. “You kidnapped the Saintess, and now you’ve brought her to me?! Do you know how fast I’m going to be burned at the stake for this?!”

  I sigh. “Okay, first of all, I didn’t kidnap her!”

  Elza raises an eyebrow. “You did jump off a balcony with me.”

  I groan. “Not helping!”

  Gabriel is breathing heavily, staring at me like he’s seconds away from either killing me himself or passing out from stress.

  Then—loud banging at the doors.

  “Open up! In the name of the Holy Kingdom!”

  Shit. They’re here.

  Gabriel pales. “Oh, I hate you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, get in line.”

  We need a plan. Fast.

  The banging on the doors grows louder.

  “OPEN UP! IN THE NAME OF THE HOLY KINGDOM!”

  Gabriel looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. He grips his wine goblet so hard I think he might actually crush it.

  I glance at Elza—she’s still calm. Too calm.

  Meanwhile, my brain is screaming.

  Shit, shit, shit—what do I do?!

  Gabriel snaps out of his panic first, grabbing me by the collar and yanking me close.

  "DO SOMETHING!" he hisses.

  I grab his robes right back. "YOU’RE THE PRIEST—YOU DO SOMETHING!"

  Gabriel glares at me like he’s considering smiting me himself. Then he releases me with a frustrated groan, rubbing his temples.

  "Okay, okay, THINK. We need a way out of this!"

  Another pound at the doors.

  “If you do not open these doors, we will force entry!”

  Gabriel goes rigid. "Okay—new plan. We lie."

  I blink. "What?"

  He clears his throat, smoothing down his robes. "I am still a priest, and this is holy ground. I’ll stall them. You—" He jabs a finger at me. "—shut up and let me do the talking."

  I frown. "That’s your plan? Just—stall?"

  "Do you have a better idea?!"

  I don’t.

  Elza, still completely unbothered, finally speaks. "I could simply tell them that I am here of my own free will."

  Gabriel and I both turn to her.

  Gabriel laughs dryly. "Oh, yes, because I’m sure they’ll believe that the Saintess just happened to take a midnight stroll into the church of a known heretic."

  Elza blinks. "Would they not?"

  I groan. "This is going to be a disaster."

  Gabriel straightens his robes. "Alright, time to lie through my teeth. Just—look holy or something."

  Then, without another word, he turns and throws open the doors.

  The cold night air floods in, along with at least a dozen armored paladins. Their leader, a broad-shouldered man with a gold-trimmed cape, steps forward, hand resting on his sword.

  His sharp eyes scan the room before locking onto Gabriel.

  "Father Gabriel," he says, his tone firm. "We have reason to believe that a fugitive has entered your church."

  Gabriel puts on the fakest, most dramatic ‘holy man’ expression I’ve ever seen.

  "My child," he says, voice dripping with false sincerity. "This is a house of the gods! Do you truly think I would harbor a criminal?"

  The paladin doesn’t buy it for a second.

  His gaze shifts to me.

  Shit.

  Act natural.

  I try to look as holy as possible.

  The paladin narrows his eyes.

  Gabriel quickly steps in.

  "Seraphiel’s light shines upon all who seek refuge," he continues, throwing his arms out like some kind of messiah. "This poor traveler merely seeks divine guidance!"

  The paladin is not impressed.

  And then—his gaze shifts past us.

  To Elza.

  His entire expression shifts. His stance changes.

  His hand tightens on his sword.

  "…Saintess?"

  Elza steps forward, her posture graceful and composed.

  "I am here of my own will," she says simply.

  The paladin hesitates. The other knights shift uncomfortably.

  No one expected this.

  The leader’s eyes flick between me, Gabriel, and Elza. His instincts are screaming that something is wrong.

  Finally, his gaze hardens.

  "I must insist," he says slowly, "that you return with us, Saintess."

  The tension spikes.

  Gabriel subtly shifts his stance. I tense.

  Elza remains calm.

  Then, she tilts her head slightly.

  "Are you questioning me?"

  Silence.

  I swear I see the paladin’s jaw tighten.

  I don’t know what kind of power struggle just started, but it feels like the next few seconds will decide everything.

  The air in the church is thick with tension.

  The lead paladin’s jaw tightens, his fingers twitching near the hilt of his sword. The other guards shift uneasily. None of them expected this.

  Elza stands perfectly composed, golden eyes calm but unwavering. She isn’t backing down.

  "Are you questioning me?" she asks again, her voice gentle, yet firm.

  The paladin hesitates.

  I can see the conflict in his face. If this were anyone else, he would have dragged them out by force. But this is the Saintess of Sletopia.

  Holy figure. Divine messenger.

  Untouchable.

  Gabriel, ever the opportunist, steps forward dramatically, throwing an arm around me.

  "You see?" he says, grinning like he’s won something. "Our dear Saintess was merely blessing this poor lost soul! A noble, righteous act, as expected of one so pure!"

  The paladin’s eyes snap to me.

  Oh, shit.

  I freeze, trying to look as holy and lost as possible.

  The paladin’s gaze narrows. “And who is this traveler?”

  I open my mouth to answer, but Gabriel squeezes my shoulder hard before I can speak.

  "Oh, just a pitiful wretch in need of guidance!" he answers for me, voice dripping with exaggerated concern. "We must not judge those who seek the light, my son."

  The paladin looks at me again, suspicious.

  Elza suddenly steps in. "He is under my protection."

  Silence.

  The paladin’s fingers tighten on his sword. "Saintess—"

  Elza’s gaze sharpens.

  "Do you doubt my judgment?"

  I swallow hard.

  The paladin visibly struggles, caught between his duty and his faith.

  Gabriel is still gripping my shoulder like he’s trying to physically keep me from speaking.

  Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the paladin exhales sharply.

  "Of course not, Saintess."

  I exhale quietly.

  The tension doesn’t fully disappear, but the paladins lower their guard slightly.

  "Then there is no need for further concern," Elza continues, still calm. "I will return when my work is done."

  The lead paladin grits his teeth. I can tell he hates this. But he can’t openly defy her.

  He bows stiffly. "As you wish, Saintess."

  Without another word, the paladins turn and leave, their armor clanking as they march back into the night.

  The moment the doors slam shut, I let out a long breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

  Gabriel immediately whirls on me.

  "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR DAMN MIND?!"

  I sigh. "Yeah, yeah, get in line."

  He groans loudly, dragging a hand down his face. "You don’t just kidnap the Saintess and bring her to a heretic’s church! That’s how you end up extra burned at the stake!"

  I shake my head. "First of all—I didn’t kidnap her!"

  Elza, ever composed, tilts her head slightly. "Technically, you did throw me off a balcony."

  I groan. "Not helping!"

  Gabriel grabs his wine goblet and downs the rest in one go.

  "Okay," he mutters, voice muffled. "We’re so dead."

  Lena, Mark, and Ravyn better show up soon, because I have no idea what happens next.

  I exhale sharply, forcing myself to focus. "It shouldn't take long before Inquisitors fill up this place."

  Gabriel glares at me. "Really now? Who would have guessed?"

  I ignore his sarcasm. "Hopefully, Ravyn, Mark, and Lena didn’t get hurt or kidnapped."

  Gabriel's expression immediately changes. His usual irritation vanishes, replaced by something far more serious.

  His eyes widen.

  "What… My Lena?"

  His voice drops—low, dangerous.

  I blink. "Uh… yeah?"

  Gabriel grabs my shoulders. "Where is she?!"

  I hesitate. "I—I don’t know. We split up back at the party—"

  He shakes me once. "You LEFT HER ALONE?!"

  Elza watches, completely calm, as Gabriel proceeds to lose his mind.

  I hold up my hands. "Hey, hey—she can handle herself!"

  Gabriel’s grip tightens. "Not the point!"

  I glance at Elza for help, but she just tilts her head slightly. "He does seem quite attached to her."

  Gabriel spins toward her. "You—Divine Lady—Saintess—whatever—Bless me or something! Make sure she’s okay!"

  Elza blinks. "That is… not how my powers work."

  Gabriel whirls back to me. "We’re finding her. Now."

  I groan. "I was already planning on it!"

  The problem is—

  Where the hell do we even start?

  Where the hell do we even start?

  Before I can process everything, Gabriel grabs me by the collar, his face contorted with pure panic. "We don’t need a plan—we need to FIND HER. You don’t understand, boy! If something happened to Lena—”

  I pry his hands off before he crushes my windpipe. "I get that, but running out there blind isn’t going to help!"

  Gabriel glares at me like I just suggested we sit down for tea instead. He looks half-crazed—his breathing is ragged, his hands are shaking, and I swear I see actual desperation in his eyes.

  Elza, meanwhile, watches all of this like it’s some mildly amusing stage play. "You said there were three missing, correct?"

  I nod. "Yeah. Ravyn, Mark, and Lena. They should’ve gotten out after things went to hell, but now—"

  "We don’t know if they’re captured, hiding, or—" Gabriel swallows hard. He can’t even finish the sentence.

  I grit my teeth. "They’re not dead."

  Gabriel looks away. He doesn’t look convinced.

  Elza calmly taps a finger against the wooden table. "Then our first priority should be information."

  I exhale. "Right. But how do we do that without drawing attention?"

  She turns her gaze to Gabriel. "Father, you have many ears in the city. Surely you can discreetly ask around."

  Gabriel scoffs, running a shaky hand through his hair. "Oh, sure. I’ll just stroll through the streets, whistling a happy tune while the Inquisition is already tearing the city apart. Brilliant idea."

  Elza doesn’t even blink. "You know this city better than anyone. You have connections in places others overlook. If anyone can find them quickly, it’s you."

  Gabriel’s jaw clenches. "…Damn it."

  He curses under his breath and turns away. He’s visibly struggling to calm down.

  "You care about her," I say before I can stop myself.

  Gabriel tenses. His hands curl into fists.

  "Of course I do," he mutters, voice tight. "She—she’s reckless. Always getting herself into danger. Always…" He trails off, shaking his head.

  Something clicks in my head.

  This isn’t just concern. This is personal.

  I narrow my eyes. "What is she to you?"

  Gabriel glares at me. "That’s none of your damn business."

  I don’t push. Not yet. But I file it away for later.

  "Fine," I say. "You go check in with your sources. Be subtle. Elza and I will lay low here."

  Gabriel exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair again. "Alright, alright. But if I come back and find out you’ve brought the whole damn city here, I’m throwing you both out."

  With that, he grabs his coat and storms out.

  I exhale. Finally, a second to think.

  Elza watches me. "And what will we do in the meantime?"

  I rub my temples. "We wait… and hope the others aren’t doing something stupid."

  Lena’s voice echoes in my head. You hope we aren’t doing something stupid?

  I can hear her smirking.

  Yeah. She’s absolutely in trouble.

  Lena’s head throbbed. Not from injury—just from pure, unfiltered annoyance.

  She crouched behind a stack of crates in a dark alley, wiping blood off her knuckles. Beside her, Mark stood silently, arms crossed, keeping watch for any patrols.

  And Ravyn?

  Ravyn was standing right in the open, casually twirling a stolen guard’s helmet on his finger, looking way too pleased with himself.

  Lena narrowed her eyes. "Are you seriously enjoying this?"

  Ravyn grinned. "Oh, immensely."

  She groaned, resisting the urge to smack him. "We were supposed to blend in, Ravyn. Blend in. That means not making yourself the center of attention!"

  "Technically," Ravyn mused, tossing the helmet up and catching it again, "I only became the center of attention after I grabbed the Saintess’ hand in front of all those nobles."

  "Exactly! That’s the problem!"

  Mark exhaled through his nose but said nothing.

  Lena rubbed her temples. The moment Grand Inquisitor Valen Mordane suspected them, everything had gone to hell. Paladins had flooded the noble estate, searching for “intruders.” The three of them barely escaped through a hidden servant’s corridor before the exits were locked down.

  Now they were trapped in the city. If they didn’t regroup with Eli soon, things were going to get a lot worse.

  "We need to find Eli," she muttered. "That means figuring out where he ran off with the Saintess."

  "Correction," Ravyn said, holding up a finger. "Where he kidnapped the Saintess."

  Lena scowled. "He didn’t kidnap—"

  "He literally threw her off a balcony."

  Mark let out a quiet sigh, still watching the streets.

  "She didn’t seem upset about it, though," he finally muttered.

  Ravyn grinned. "That’s what makes it hilarious."

  Lena clenched her fists. "Okay, fine, whatever. The point is, we need to regroup."

  Mark tilted his head slightly, glancing toward the main street. Paladins were already questioning locals.

  "We can’t move openly," he said simply.

  Lena smirked. "Good thing I know exactly where to get information."

  She stood up, stretching and cracking her knuckles.

  "We’re going to visit an old friend of mine."

  Ravyn raised an eyebrow. "And this ‘friend’ of yours… they’ll help us?"

  Lena’s smirk widened. "Oh, she’ll help us. She owes me."

  Mark exhaled, but said nothing.

  Ravyn chuckled. "I love how you said that."

  Lena rolled her eyes. "Come on. Let’s move before the Inquisitors sniff us out."

  The Velvet Fang was one of those places that looked like a seedy back-alley tavern but had enough power and money flowing through it to make the city guards look the other way. It was a place for mercenaries, spies, and people who didn’t want to be found—so, naturally, it was exactly where Lena needed to go.

  She led the way through the winding streets, taking the quieter paths, avoiding patrols. Mark moved silently behind her, his presence steady as always. Ravyn, on the other hand, practically strolled through the shadows, humming under his breath like they weren’t currently hunted fugitives.

  "You sure this ‘friend’ of yours won’t turn us in?" Ravyn mused.

  Lena scoffed. "She might try, but she won’t succeed."

  Mark gave her a look.

  Lena smirked. "Relax. She and I have history—and she still owes me a favor."

  Mark said nothing, but he didn’t look convinced.

  They arrived at a nondescript door tucked between two abandoned buildings. No sign. No markings. Just a solid, reinforced wooden door with a small metal slit at eye level.

  Lena knocked three times.

  The slit opened. A pair of tired, bloodshot eyes glared at her. "We’re closed."

  Lena grinned. "Tell Mira that ‘Blackbird’ is here to collect."

  The eyes narrowed.

  Then the slit slammed shut, and the sound of several locks clicking open echoed from the other side.

  The door creaked as it swung inward.

  "Try anything," the bouncer growled, "and we’ll be scraping you off the walls."

  Lena stepped inside without hesitation. "Aw, you missed me."

  Mark followed silently. Ravyn strolled in like he owned the place.

  The Velvet Fang was as she remembered—low, warm candlelight, the scent of spiced alcohol and old wood, and a constant undercurrent of hushed conversations. Dangerous people sat in every corner—hunters, ex-soldiers, criminals, all pretending not to watch each other.

  And at the back, seated in a private booth with a glass of expensive wine in hand, was the woman they came to see.

  Mira Lys.

  She was exactly the same—tall, dark-skinned, and draped in crimson silks that contrasted her sharp, golden eyes. She barely looked up from her drink as they approached.

  "Well, well," Mira murmured, swirling her wine. "If it isn’t Lena Nightfall."

  Lena smirked. "Mira."

  Mira’s eyes flicked toward Mark and Ravyn. "And you brought friends. That’s new."

  Lena slid into the seat across from her. "I need information."

  Mira let out a soft laugh. "Oh, of course you do. But tell me, darling—why should I help you?"

  Lena leaned forward. "Because you owe me."

  Mira’s lips curled into an amused smile.

  "Alright, Blackbird," she purred. "Let’s talk."

  Meanwhile, at the Church…

  Gabriel had barely been gone ten minutes before I started pacing again.

  "Relax," Elza said, watching me from her seat. "You’re restless for no reason."

  "No reason?" I scoffed. "We don’t even know where they are."

  Elza gave me a small, knowing smile. "We will."

  I frowned. "You’re weirdly calm about this."

  She tilted her head. "You’ll get used to it."

  Before I could respond, the church doors opened, and Gabriel slipped inside. His expression was unreadable, but I could feel the tension in his movements.

  I immediately straightened. "What did you find?"

  Gabriel exhaled. "They’re at a tavern called The Velvet Fang."

  I blinked. "Why the hell are they at a tavern?"

  Gabriel scowled. "Because apparently, Lena has connections there."

  I groaned. "Of course she does."

  Elza rose to her feet gracefully. "Then we should go."

  Gabriel hesitated. "No. The city is crawling with Inquisitors. If we’re not careful, we’ll all get caught before we even reach them."

  I clenched my fists. "We’re not leaving them behind."

  Gabriel shot me a glare. "I know that."

  I paused.

  Yeah. He knew that. And judging by the way he was barely holding himself together, he was a lot more worried than he was letting on.

  I sighed. "Alright. What’s the plan?"

  Gabriel exhales sharply, rubbing his temples. "We move quietly. No unnecessary risks. And we bring Lena back safe."

  "Yeah… No." I cross my arms, shaking my head. "There's no point. Now that I know they’re alive and not captured, I know they’ll find us."

  Gabriel stares at me like I just grew a second head. "What?"

  I shrug. "For some reason, I trust them."

  Gabriel looks half a second away from strangling me. "Trust them? We’re in the middle of a city filled with Inquisitors—"

  "They’re not idiots," I cut him off. "They’ve made it this far. If we start running around like headless chickens, we’re just gonna get caught."

  He clenches his jaw, but he doesn’t argue. Maybe because he knows I have a point.

  Instead, he groans and rubs his face. "I hate this. I hate this."

  "Yeah, well, you’re still here, so," I mutter.

  I turn toward Elza, who has been way too quiet during all this. Her serene expression hasn’t changed, but there’s a sharpness in her eyes now, like she’s waiting for something.

  I inhale. "Look, the real reason I 'kidnapped' you—" I make air quotes, because I know she's been enjoying the scandal—"is to tell you the truth."

  She tilts her head slightly, curious. "And what truth is that?"

  I meet her gaze.

  "You’re going to be a sacrifice," I say. "For a catalyst."

  For the first time since we met, Elza’s expression shifts.

  It’s subtle. A flicker of something in her eyes.

  Then, softly—

  "I see."

  "You see?" I scoff, narrowing my eyes. "Are you not even scared?"

  Elza doesn’t flinch. She simply watches me, her expression unreadable.

  I exhale sharply. "And the fact that the person who decided you should be the sacrifice is your own father—does that mean nothing to you?"

  A pause.

  Elza blinks once, slowly. Then she exhales, almost like she expected this.

  "I suspected as much," she murmurs.

  Gabriel stiffens beside me. "Suspected?"

  Elza folds her hands in her lap. "I have long known that my role in Sletopia is more than that of a mere Saintess. The signs were always there—the way the clergy revered me too much, the strange limitations placed upon my freedom… and, of course, my father’s unshakable faith."

  There’s something cold in her voice when she says father.

  Like she’s already started to detach from the idea that he’s even family.

  I lean forward. "So you knew?"

  "I suspected," she repeats. "But suspicion and truth are two different things."

  I watch her carefully. "And now that you know?"

  She meets my gaze without hesitation. "Now, I must decide what to do about it."

  There’s no fear in her voice.

  No anger.

  Just… calm certainty.

  I don’t know whether to be impressed or disturbed.

  "Well, don’t worry!" I flash a grin, trying to lighten the mood. "We, the Gravewalkers, won’t let that happen!"

  Gabriel snorts. Then, to my surprise, he actually laughs.

  "Now you’re acting like Ravyn—pft—" He shakes his head, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Gods help me, that was something he would say."

  I blink. "Hey!"

  Elza giggles softly, covering her mouth.

  I glare at both of them. "I am nothing like Ravyn."

  Gabriel gives me a look. "Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, kid."

  I groan. "You know what? Forget it. The point is—Elza, you’re not dying, and we’re definitely not letting your father get away with this."

  Elza hums in thought. "Then we must be prepared. If this Grand Invocation is as powerful as you imply, it will not be easy to stop."

  Gabriel leans back against the pew, rubbing his temples. "Great. Another impossible plan. Just what I needed today."

  "Welcome to the club," I mutter.

  Now we just need to figure out how to actually stop it.

  I exhale, running a hand through my hair. God… at least this is better than getting killed and revived over and over again by Zareth.

  The thought creeps in before I can stop it.

  "We need to focus," I say, pushing everything else aside. "If Lena and the others are heading here, we need to be ready. The Inquisitors won’t just back off."

  Gabriel sighs. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Let’s just hope they don’t bring more trouble with them."

  I don’t say anything.

  Because knowing them?

  They absolutely will.