Chapter 119: Infiltration
Night had fallen over Elandra, and the city’s glow flickered like a sea of fireflies trapped beneath the veil of stars. Lanterns swayed on iron posts. Taverns hummed with laughter. And guards—armored, yawning, half-alert—marched their usual routes, unaware that something ancient and malevolent had slipped past their walls.
They never heard the first blade.
A sentry atop the southern tower blinked, rubbed his eyes, and reached for his waterskin. A second later, his throat opened in a clean, perfect line. No noise. No struggle. Just a sharp exhale of surprise as he collapsed behind the crenellations, eyes still wide.
A shadow moved behind him.
It didn’t walk. It glided. Draped in charcoal-gray wrappings that drank the light, the assassin wiped the blade and slid it back into its sheath. The body was dragged silently into a hatch in the tower floor and hidden behind stacked crates. The assassin left no trace—only a faint whiff of brimstone that vanished on the wind.
Across the city, in the western district, two more fell.
One was a street patrol officer, joking with his partner about a local fruit vendor. A moment later, he was gone—his body disappearing into the alley with a soft thud. His partner turned too late. A black spike slipped through his back and out his chest like a spear of shadow.
The creature that killed him looked human at first. But its eyes glowed faint orange beneath the hood, and its tongue flicked out like a serpent’s before retreating into the dark.
By midnight, eight royal guards were dead.
None of them had time to raise an alarm. The killings were surgical, quiet, spread just far enough apart to avoid suspicion—but coordinated. Like a symphony of silence. Elandra still slept. But beneath the lanterns, something was waking.
In the heart of the Adventurer’s Quarter, Inigo stirred in his bed.