The small group kept their room in the Emberdrift Hearth, though the inn had changed dramatically during their stay there. Where once they could find a degree of warmth clinging to the wood paneled walls and hear laughter echoing up from the common room below it was all replaced by a tension that pressed back against the glow and warmth of the hearthfire. It was the same all over the city, something was growing, festering, and it was doing so rapidly.

  Downstairs, mercenaries clustered together in large groups, their presence marked by heavy armor that was often spotted with soot and blood, remnants of their deeds done in the dark. The scent of scorched leather, oil, iron and the coppery tang of blood lingered in their wake. More and more slavers entered as well, whispering in hushed tones over their stone and clay mugs of dark ale. Couriers would come and go slipping in through the smoke filled taproom scraps of parchment protruding from belt and pouch, many bearing cracked and hastily resealed sigils that matched various houses of Arenvalis nobility.

  Upstairs, it was slightly different, Xavier leaned silently against the windowsill as he watched the traffic below. His eyes shifted to and followed the motion of an iron-barred wagon as it trundled through the alley. It was partially obscured by the early morning mist and haze but even that could only muffle, not silence, the rattle of chains. Shackles binding even more slaves brought into the city, their muffled cries muted by the heavy canvas covering the cage. He was sure it was another unregistered delivery. They had found more and more evidence of such since talking with the Whisperbroker. His eyes searched the gloom, there was no inspection, none of the legal overseers, no binding of the laws, just silence. Silence and shadows covering the disappearance of more people.

  Behind him he heard the door open and then close as Ella stepped inside. Being human, if marked as a slave, she had more freedom of movement than the Animari in their group did. A fact she used to her advantage, though she did not have the connections or information that Lianna did she would often confer with the Iskari woman to know what to look for or to confirm what she had seen. This return saw her pull her damp hood down as she tossed a sealed scrap of parchment on the table beside Xavier.

  “It is another Animari caravan,” she spoke softly, her voice low even in the privacy of their room. “No paperwork, no inspection, no change of coin. They were just waved through the lower eastern gate just before dawn.”

  Lianna, from where she sat on her cot in the corner carefully cleaning and oiling one of her daggers, spoke softly. “It has to be the Shadow Court we have been hearing rumor of.” Her eyes remained fixed on her work as she muttered. “No one else seems to have the power to make such things happen. They are tightening their grip as the auction draws closer.”

  Ella nodded in agreement. “They are accelerating. That auction, it must be more than just a trade event, it seems to be a summoning of all of the powers that be in these lands.”

  In the far corner Sihri sat quietly on her low bed, Valkra remained curled by her feet, the cubs twin tails flicking back and forth gently in her sleep while her flank rose and fell softly. The shadowmane’s breathing in rhythm with Sihri’s slow controlled breath. From her spot at the Leporini’s feet Valkra opened one eye briefly, her glance towards Xavier and not Sihri. The subtle shift of her body was one of comfort and not of fear. Though she was still a cub it was becoming more obvious that she was watching over the human, more protective and loyal, very much the way Frostclaw was with Lianna. Sihri stroked the back of the cub as Valkra closed her eye once more.

  Lianna had noticed the movement though, “She’s getting attached to you,” she murmured without looking up. “Valkra. I think she’s choosing you.”

  Xavier glanced at the cub, and something in his chest stirred. A thread of recognition, of a growing bond. “I know,” he said quietly. “When we are away from here I need to talk to you about the bond you have with Frostclaw.”

  Lianna nodded, now was not the time but it was clear he would eventually follow the same path she walked and become closer to animals.

  The silence that followed the brief exchange deepened until Xavier settled on a plan. The had realized more that with the women wearing collars clearly displayed they were less harassed acting the part of slaves. They would get questioned from time to time but each carried a copy of their slave documents showing who they ‘belonged’ to and when shown dissuade further inspection. This meant that they could split the party into two teams. The first, Xavier and Ella with Valkra, would continue following the Whisperbroker’s hints and trails, tracking down names, symbols or any other indication of where the real power in the city flowed. The second team, Lianna and Sihri accompanied by Frostclaw, would head to the auction lanes, posing as scouts for their master searching out new slaves, they would gather intel on rotations, slave markers and which noble houses were actively buying.

  Rising with their new tasks they moved to leave the inn. Around them Emberdrift Hearth whispered with the murmur of dark tidings, and further out the city pulsed in anxious energy, a wound too long left untreated and about to rupture.

  Xavier’s small group moved through the city with purpose. If the city were a festering wound, then the Ironmaw Barracks sat like a tainted source of the infection. The barracks stood as a bastion of odd order in the cacophony of chaos around it.

  The two humans and shadowmane approached the building from the east, slipping between guard patrols, merchant wagons and other travelers until they were able to find a vantage point on the edge of an old broken forge. It was from there that they were finally able to see into the yard. The interior was lit by flickering braziers and routine patrols of soldiers in crimson-dyed leather and plate circulated around its pathways in regular patterns. Even from where they stood the two could smell the stench of blood and brimstone that clung to the jagged metal walls of the structure.

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  Emerging like a storm cloud cast in flesh they witnessed the presence of Tavrek Halestorm for the first time. He strode through the barracks yard with the weight of command unchallenged and unhindered. He was clad in matte-black infernal plate mail and each of the plates was lined with etched runes that even from this distance seemed to pulse softly their red glow looking as if something in the metal itself lived and breathed. As Tavrek moved, his presence forced silence upon those around him. Soldiers stiffened at attention, mercenaries cleared his path and even those clad in the garb of nobles bowed their heads slightly towards him.

  Xavier narrowed his eyes as he studied their target. “That is no ordinary officer.” He had seen enough in the city to know the deference being given to Tavrek far exceeded the normal.

  Ella nodded, her breath slow and controlled as she restrained herself. “No, he is the threat behind Ivarik’s voice. A blade in the dark to ensure compliance.”

  They shifted slightly so they could better hear the pieces of conversation that drifted up from Halestorm and his underlings.

  “Purge out the forged registries,” Tavrek commanded. “Any Animari papers that do not hold up fully to the flame, burn the bearer as well.”

  Nearby Xavier caught another murmur from a different officer. Their gripe seemed to be with the Reavers taking key posts around the city’s outer walls. Readmaws were deployed like a siege net encapsulating the city. That news made Xavier’s heart sink as it was becoming more evident that a trap was being set.

  “Tavrek is baiting the trap,” Ella whispered grimly. “And they are using the Reavers as the iron jaws set to snap closed.”

  Xavier nodded slowly. “We’re running out of time.”

  Elsewhere in the city, down amongst the auctions along the lanes dedicated to them, Lianna and Sihri walked silently between broken and crumbling walls as they weaved around crowded slave wagons. Chains clinked and shifted around them with every movement of the bound captives. The air reeked of unwashed bodies, urine and other bodily waste, and rusted iron. The two Animari both wore simple slave garb, dark grey woolen shifts that left their collars on easy display, letting them blend into the crowds as their eyes watched everything that transpired.

  They had been roaming for nearly an hour when Lianna stopped cold, her breath catching in her throat. Across the yard stood someone she knew. Someone she despised. Mekal.

  The slaver stood both larger and smaller than she remembered, the last time she had seen him, when she etched his features into her memory, she had been but a child. His shoulders were broader than back then, and his face was older and more lined. It was the long and twisted scar down his arm that confirmed who he was however, and it remained unchanged. He boomed out a loud laughter as a nearby handler shoved a young Animari boy, an otterkin from the quick glance, into a cage.

  Lianna’s fists clenched in rage, and Frostclaw shifted behind her, his eyes shimmering with the same rage as in the woman though he remained stationary, waiting for her command.

  “Do you know him?” Sihri whispered as she stepped closer to keep their conversation muted.

  Lianna nodded once curtly.

  “He does not recognize you like this,” Sihri said gently. “He cannot.”

  “No but I want him to,” Lianna hissed in anger. Her voice trembling in the deep-seated rage and not fear. “He is the one who killed Frostclaw’s’ mother, the one who marked me the first time.”

  Carefully Sihri touched the Iskari woman’s wrist. “If you move now, we lose everything. It is not just about you. You are not alone anymore.”

  Lianna shook silently struggling to contain her feelings. Her claws screamed for the slavers blood, but slowly and painfully she forced herself to turn away. “I will remember though,” she said softly. “I will end him, even it if is not today. I know he is alive and where I can find him now.”

  Frostclaw leaned against the pained woman’s leg, reassuring her and communicating his agreement in her desires.

  Later that day, back at the Emberdrift Hearth, nightfall began to cast iron shadows across the floor of their room. Ella laid out a stolen parchment. It detailed auction routes, patrol patterns and even villa entrances. All of them were tied to two names.

  “Tavrek Halestorm and Lythara Veyne,” Ella spoke softly as she pointed to the details. “Everything runs through them.”

  Xavier scratched his chin in thought. “I’ve heard that name before, Lythara that is. A succubus, though it sounded like a legend when she was spoken of.”

  “Oh, she is real enough,” Ella confirmed. “Additionally, she is in the city, she is the leader of the Redmaw Reavers.”

  Lianna blinked a moment. “She is not a slave?”

  Ella shook her head. “No the information I got was she is a guest, invited to the private auction no less.”

  Lianna frowned. “What kind of succubus leads a mercenary company known for slaughter vanishes from sight only to reappear here?”

  “One with a plan,” Xavier muttered.

  “The Marked Ones are her soldiers,” Ella added. “Dozens if not hundreds. They are not just in her ranks anymore either. I spotted them in Halestorm’s troops, auction security and even in the noble guards.”

  “They’re using them,” Sihri whispered. “Not as monsters. As tools. Soldiers.”

  “They’re reshaping Arenvalis,” Xavier said. “One branded soul at a time.”

  Night enveloped the city and beneath it the city of Ironhaven smoldered beneath the red-streaked sky. On the balcony, Lianna and Sihri stood side by side, arms folded as they watched the smoke rise from the auction yard below. Frostclaw lounged just behind them, nearby Valkra nestled beside the doorframe. The shadowmane cub stirred, her gaze flicking toward Xavier’s silhouette in the window.

  “She feels him,” Sihri said softly watching the small cub.

  “She chose him,” Lianna replied, her voice distant.

  Inside, Xavier sat cross-legged on the floor. Vaeltheris rested across his knees, humming with a low, pulsing resonance. He traced the runes on its hilt absently, mind clouded with a thousand broken threads.

  “Lythara. Tavrek. The Reavers,” he murmured.

  Ella stood behind him, her hand gently on his shoulder. “You’re thinking of the Court.”

  “I’m thinking about the noose around this city’s, hells this kingdom’s, neck.” He replied briefly looking up at her before his gaze returned to the blade and he began tracing its runes once again.

  Ella didn’t speak at first. When she did, it was quiet. “Then cut it.”

  Xavier looked up. “If we’re wrong…”

  “Then we burn it all,” she said. “From the inside out.”

  Valkra rose from where she was laying and padded across the floor, her eyes glowing faintly in the firelight. She paused at Xavier’s side and lay down, her flank brushing his leg. He reached out and gently rested a hand on her fur.

  He was not alone. Not anymore. He had found friends and companions in this world, much more than he had ever had back on Earth, and he had found purpose.

  Outside the city’s breath trembled.

  And in the distance, the Shadow Court moved.