ShadowBound: The Need For Power

Midnight cloaked Heyh in velvet shadows, the opulence of its streets dimmed beneath a hazy moon. Even the air felt quieter—still perfumed, still clean—but no longer welcoming.

Serah crouched in the alleyway just outside the eastern district, her crimson hair braided back tight beneath a hood. Beside her, Kael scanned the rooftops with a compact spyglass, muttering, "Patrols light. Two guards doing lazy loops near the front gate. They’re definitely bored."

"Good," Serah said, her voice a low whisper. "Let’s keep it that way."

Behind them, Elira clutched a small orb pulsing faint blue—her myst tracker calibrated to detect any irregular flow. Myla and Jorin flanked the rear, blades sheathed in leather, every step muffled.

Their target stood just ahead: Warehouse Seventeen, one of Drosmir’s many "distribution centers" for imported goods. To most, it was a spice and textile depot. But the manifests didn’t match weight logs. That alone made it suspicious.

"Break-in point?" Serah asked.

Myla tapped the side of the building, a section just out of lantern view. "South wall. Loose stones. We slip through there."

Jorin pulled back the thin layer of enchanted plaster covering a narrow crawlspace. They entered one by one quietly and carefully.

Inside, the warehouse swallowed them in stale, earthy darkness.

Stacks of crates reached toward the high rafters. The scent of cinnamon and dried herbs clung to the air, masking something faintly bitter beneath—like rusted metal.

Kael slipped past Serah, silently unlocking a side panel and cracking open a crate lid. "Spices," he muttered. "Standard. Stamped and sealed."

"Check for false bottoms," Serah whispered. "Jorin—lift the floor planks in the back. Elira, get your readings running."