The Water Kingdom slept like it had nothing to fear.
That was the first thing I noticed once the sun slipped beneath the horizon and the city softened into lantern light and shadow. The canals glowed faintly beneath stone bridges, reflecting strings of floating lamps that bobbed gently with the tide. Music drifted from open balconies. Laughter carried on the wind.
Peaceful.
Too peaceful.
I lay on my stomach atop a sloped roof overlooking the lower harbor, chin resting against cool tile, cloak pulled tight against the night breeze. From here, the city unfolded like a painting—beautiful, deliberate, curated.
Nothing out of place.
Nothing allowed to be out of place.
I exhaled slowly through my nose and adjusted my position, careful not to scrape stone or disturb the prayer ribbons fluttering from the roof's edge. The Water Kingdom didn't believe in loud patrols or aggressive presence. They believed in being seen just enough to remind you who was watching.
Guards moved in pairs below, footsteps measured and unhurried. Lantern light swept across docks and warehouses in steady arcs. Sailors finished unloading ships under quiet supervision, manifests signed and stamped before cargo disappeared into the city's belly.
Trade.
Order.
Control.
I tracked one guard as he paused near a dockside office, exchanged a few murmured words with a robed official, then moved on. The official lingered, scanning the harbor before slipping back inside.
Suspicion coiled low in my gut.
Behind my ribs, the gods stirred.
Careful, little flame, Kagutsuchi murmured. The calm here is not natural.
Njord's presence rolled through me like a tide pulling back from shore. Water that never stirs is water that hides rot beneath its surface.
I swallowed and forced myself to breathe evenly.
I didn't want to distrust kindness. I wanted this place to be what it claimed to be. A sanctuary. A pause. A breath before the next disaster.
But I'd learned the hard way that monsters rarely snarl at the door.
They smiled and offered tea.
I shifted my focus back to the parchment spread beside me—a copied manifest Tadewi had slipped into my hands earlier that evening. Cargo listings. Ship names. Arrival times. Trade routes marked in neat ink.
And tucked between crates of silk and spice—
Unregistered labor transfers.
"Found anything?" Muir whispered softly from the shadowed rooftop behind me.
I didn't turn. "Depends. How much do you like your illusions shattered?"
He snorted quietly and crawled closer, peering down at the docks with interest. "I've never truly trusted my father's kingdom. It smells too clean."
"You say that like it's an insult."
"It is."
Willow remained back near the roof's ridge, standing watch. She hadn't argued when I told her I needed eyes more than earth tonight. She understood restraint now in a way she hadn't before—understood how power could break things you were trying to protect.
"Shipment's wrong," I murmured, tapping the parchment lightly. "Weight doesn't match declared cargo. And the destination code—" I pointed to a symbol scratched faintly beside one entry. "—it's old. Smuggler shorthand."
Muir leaned closer. "Meaning?"
"Meaning someone's moving people," I said quietly. "And they don't want it traced."
Willow's jaw tightened. "Through the Water Kingdom."
"Through its ports," I corrected. "Big difference."
Not yet.
I scanned the harbor again, noting which warehouses received heavier guard rotation and which ships lingered longer than necessary. Patterns emerged the way they always did—not by looking harder, but by looking longer.
"There," I whispered, pointing to a structure half-hidden by stacked crates and netting. "Warehouse Seventeen."
Muir squinted. "That one?"
"No insignia. No banners. No visible markings," I said. "That's intentional."
"Of course it is," he muttered. "Subtlety is wasted on criminals."
"Not on smart ones."
A bell chimed softly from the harbor tower—midnight.
Right on schedule, a smaller vessel detached from one of the anchored trade ships and glided toward a concealed dock, its lanterns dimmed. Guards redirected foot traffic away from the area with casual gestures.
Too casual.
My chest tightened.
"There," I said. "That's our lead."
We waited until the skiff disappeared inside the warehouse before moving.
Getting down was easy. Getting out unseen would be harder.
I slipped from the rooftop first, dropping soundlessly into a shadowed alley and pressing myself flat against the stone. Muir followed with infuriating grace for someone who until recently had a hole in his stomach. Willow came last, her landing soft despite the power coiled beneath her skin.
We moved low and fast, hugging walls, slipping between blind spots and moments where the city blinked.
The Water Kingdom wasn't loud about its security.
It didn't need to be.
The warehouse door loomed ahead—thick wood reinforced with metal bands. No obvious lock.
I smiled faintly.
"Of course," I whispered. "You'd hide it."
I knelt and pressed my ear to the door, listening.
Muted voices. A child's cough.
My smile vanished.
Anger flared sharp and sudden, but I forced it down. Rage made you sloppy. Sloppy got people killed.
I slipped my hands free and worked quickly, fingers dancing across hidden seams, feeling for tension instead of mechanism. The door sighed open just enough to let us through.
Inside, the air smelled wrong.
Too stale. Too many bodies. Too much fear soaked into the stone.
Flashes of memories burned behind my eyes. I shook them away.
Crates lined the walls, some marked with false trade stamps, others completely unmarked. Chains lay coiled near the center of the floor—unused, but ready.
I scanned the room in seconds.
No guards.
Too easy.
"Lyra," Willow whispered urgently.
I saw it at the same time she did.
The ledger.
Sitting openly on a table, illuminated by a single lantern.
A trap.
I froze.
Muir swore softly. "That's bait."
"Yes," I agreed. "And they want me to take it."
The gods murmured warning, but I was already moving.
Sometimes the only way through a trap is straight through the center.
I stepped forward, slow and deliberate, every sense screaming as I reached for the ledger. The moment my fingers brushed its edge—
The floor shifted.
Stone plates slid apart, revealing a drop beneath my feet.
I lunged backward just as iron bars slammed down from the ceiling, sealing off half the room.
Willow shouted my name.
"Muir—" I snapped.
"I'm good!" he yelled back, pressed against the bars. "You?"
I landed hard but upright, heart pounding.
The ledger burst into flame.
And from the shadows beyond the bars, a familiar voice laughed.
"Well," the voice drawled, stepping into the lantern light, "Sorin's guards were right. You're persistent."
My vision narrowed.
"Who?" I asked softly.
He smiled wider. "Oh, where are my manners? Lord Kareth, at your service."
The room felt suddenly very small.
I thought of the girls.
Of Oredena.
Of promises.
Of blood not yet spilled.
"Where are they?" I demanded.
He tilted his head. "In good hands. For now."
My hand curled into a fist.
"I will find them. You will not hurt any more children. I won't let you," I said, flames flickering at my knuckles.
His smile turned knowing. "Kill me. Fine. Someone else will just take my place."
Something in his gaze flicked—calculating, almost smug.
"Who's paying you?" I pressed.
He chuckled. "Oh, little dragon… I don't snitch on people who can ruin me longer and harder than your fire ever could."
The words hit like ice.
"What did you say?" Willow whispered.
Kareth's eyes slid to her. "You heard me. Think about it."
My pulse thundered.
A smile flashed through my mind.
Warm. Easy. False.
Behind me, stone creaked.
Guards were coming.
"Our little game has just begun, little dragon," he said lightly, backing into shadow. "But you should leave. Before the tide closes."
He vanished.
The bars retracted with a hiss.
"MOVE," I shouted.
We ran.
Not blindly—precisely. Through corridors I memorized in seconds, past docks I'd mapped with my eyes. Guards shouted. Bells rang. False exits. Shifting paths.
The prison had played games.
The Water Kingdom played chess.
We burst into the night air, breath ragged, hearts pounding, vanishing into the city's maze before pursuit could tighten.
We didn't stop until the sea wind burned my lungs and the harbor lights were distant behind us.
Only then did I slow.
My hands shook.
Not from fear.
From fury.
The slave traffickers.
Sorin Vale.
Lord Kareth.
And someone with more authority.
All connected.
Somewhere deep in my chest, the thread stirred.
Raiden.
He would know what to do next.
I stared out at the dark water, jaw set.
"This isn't over," I whispered again.
Not for them.
Not for the children.
Not for any of us.
And when I finally moved, it was not toward safety—
But toward the blizzard now brewing.