The night had settled into a heavy stillness, the kind that pressed against the skin and muted the world into a low, breathing hush. Seth moved through it alone.
The road back to the Andreas mansion was familiar beneath his feet—every uneven stone, every slight dip worn into the earth by years of carriage wheels and boots. He walked with his usual measured pace, cane absent, steps precise. His blindfold hid unseeing eyes, but the world was not dark to him. It was layered. Textured. Alive.
Then something changed.
His right foot struck something wrong.
Not stone.
Not soil.
A sharp, resistant pressure bit against the sole of his shoe—metallic, narrow, pointed.
Seth froze mid-step.
Slowly, carefully, he shifted his weight back. His foot eased away by a fraction, then returned—not stepping down, but pressing gently from above, testing the object's resistance through the leather sole. It did not bend. Did not roll.
Steel.
And small.
He crouched, balance flawless, coat brushing the dirt. His right hand descended, fingers hovering for a breath before closing around the object. Cold. Smooth in places, jagged in others. He turned it between thumb and forefinger, letting the ridges speak.
Angles. Cut lines. Micro-grooves.
Signals layered themselves in his mind—size, density, distribution of weight.
Two inches long.
Faceted.
A siege emerald.
His lips curved slightly.
He lifted it closer to his face, just beneath his nose, and inhaled slowly.
Oil.
Foreign leather.
Dried sweat, sharp and sour.
And beneath it all—something he recognized instantly.
The same scent.
The assassin.
The one who had watched him earlier. The one who had failed.
Seth straightened, holding the emerald between two fingers, raising it toward the empty night sky as though inspecting it visually out of habit he did not need.
"Too bad I can't see," he murmured, a faint smirk touching his lips.
"Would've loved to see Dave's reaction when he finds this."
The emerald vanished into his palm.
A sudden vibration buzzed against his left wrist.
"Buzzzzz."
Seth's expression shifted.
He rolled his sleeve back, exposing a narrow metallic bangle fitted snugly against his skin. Two small indicator lights glowed faintly in the dark.
Green. Stable.
Red. Active.
The red light pulsed once.
Then steadied.
His chest tightened—not with fear, but calculation.
The cave.
The vault where he stored what little he truly owned: spoils, gold, salvaged mechanisms, unfinished designs. The only place in the world that answered to him alone.
Red could mean one of two things.
A task completed.
Or an intrusion.
He turned his head slightly, listening—not outward, but inward, syncing memory with probability. If it were an intruder, the alarms would escalate. They hadn't.
Yet.
Seth exhaled quietly.
"I'll check," he whispered to no one.
But first—
The mansion.
He altered course.
The Andreas estate rose from the darkness like a slumbering beast. Stone walls, iron gates, watchtowers softened by time and complacency. Guards lingered along the perimeter, their presence uneven.
Seth slowed.
He listened.
Two guards asleep near the west wall. Breathing deep, careless.
Three more on duty near the inner path—alert enough, but distracted.
Laughter drifted from a cluster farther down. Gossip. Familiar voices.
He adjusted his path without thought.
From his belt pouch, he withdrew a compact object no longer than his palm. With a flick of his thumb, it unfolded—segments snapping into place with barely a whisper.
A grappling gun.
He angled it upward and fired.
The hook caught stone with a dull, muted clink—deliberately misaligned.
Voices stirred.
"Did you hear that?"
Seth was already moving.
He sprinted low, boots silent, timing his steps between breaths. He scaled the wall where shadows were thickest, body pressed flat, fingers finding seams in stone he had memorized long ago.
Whenever a guard passed nearby, Seth froze—becoming part of the wall itself.
Stillness was his greatest disguise.
He slipped through an upper corridor window and dropped soundlessly into his room.
The scent of ink and old wood greeted him.
Without hesitation, he crossed to his drawers. His fingers found the bottom knob, twisted, pulled. A hidden compartment slid free.
Inside lay a small hand luggage bag.
He opened it and began filling it methodically—tools selected by feel alone.
Miniature torque drivers.
Fine-edged calipers.
Wiring filaments.
Compact energy coils.
A folding diagnostic lens he could not see through—but used for heat dispersion.
When the bag was full, he closed it and slung it over his shoulder.
The window opened again.
He climbed out, sealed it behind him.
Then he turned.
Dave's quarters lay two corridors east.
Seth moved.
Dave slept sprawled across his bed, one arm flung out, mouth slightly open. The rhythm of his breathing was heavy, unguarded.
Seth stood over him, silent.
From his pocket, he produced the siege emerald.
Then another object—a karambit of his own making. Compact. Curved. Razor-edged.
He pressed the emerald against the blade and snipped.
The crystal split with a faint crack.
Seth worked patiently, roughing its edges, dulling the perfect symmetry that made it valuable. He turned it into something unmistakably altered—tampered.
Finished, he placed it atop the shelf beside Dave's bed.
A message.
Then he turned away.
The window closed softly behind him.
By the time Dave shifted in his sleep, Seth was already gone.
Miles passed beneath Seth's feet.
He ran.
Not with panic—but purpose.
His speed was wrong. Unnatural for a noble son dismissed as useless. His strides were long, efficient, breathing controlled. Muscles burned, but he welcomed the sensation. It reminded him he was real.
The land thinned.
Trees gave way to rocky outcroppings.
At the edge of Andreas territory, Seth slowed.
This place belonged to no one.
Here, the world listened.
He approached the cave.
Every sense opened.
Sound: insects, distant wind, nothing human.
Smell: damp stone, moss, iron traces—his iron.
Vibration: no footfalls, no disturbance.
Aura: empty. Neutral. Untouched.
Satisfied, he stepped closer.
The entrance was hidden behind a rough stone door, feathered with grooves of push-and-slide design he had carved himself. Before opening it, Seth knelt.
To the left, nearly buried in dirt and moss, lay a small device.
A puzzle passcode.
Linked directly to the wall traps.
Wrong input would mean death.
Right input meant silence.
Seth's fingers danced across it.
Clicks. Pressure. Rotation.
Solved.
He pushed the door aside and slipped in.
It sealed behind him.
Seth clapped once.
Light bloomed.
A bulb flickered to life, illuminating a narrow cavern corridor. Ahead, a stairway descended into the earth.
He began the descent.
With each step downward, side lights activated in sequence, recognizing his weight and gait. The path narrowed, then widened.
At last, he reached the bottom.
A vast underground chamber opened before him—nearly a hundred meters wide, ceilings reinforced with stone and metal ribs. When he flipped the master switch on the right wall, the entire space lit up.
White light flooded the chamber.
It felt nothing like a cave.
It felt like a workshop.
A warehouse.
A future.
To the left stood rows of manufacturing arms—mechanical hands suspended from frames, joints still warm, motion frozen mid-cycle. They had halted when materials ran out.
To the right stood rows of construct bots.
Some rolled on rover wheels.
Others hovered as drones.
Each bore a small engraved plate denoting function and build classification.
Seth crossed the floor.
He ran his hands over the manufacturing arms, inspecting every joint, every wire, every plate of reinforced metal. His fingers found flaws before they became problems.
He opened his bag.
Tools came out.
Maintenance began.
The cave hummed softly around him.
For the first time that night—
Seth allowed himself to breathe.
The world above slept.
Below, something waited.
And Seth intended to build it.
Morning arrived without ceremony.
The sun rose over the Andreas estate as it always had, spilling pale gold across stone walls, tiled roofs, and dew-kissed gardens. Birds stirred. Servants moved about their routines. Guards yawned and changed shifts. The world, to all outward appearances, remained perfectly intact.
Dave woke to it.
He stretched lazily at first, arms raised above his head, joints popping as he exhaled. His mind drifted through the plans of the day—training, court matters, a meeting later with minor nobles. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing worth concern.
Then he turned.
And froze.
The object sat on the shelf beside his bed as if it had always been there.
A siege emerald.
Dave stared at it for a long moment, breath shallow, heart beginning to thud against his ribs. His gaze snapped to the window immediately.
Locked.
Just as he had left it.
He stepped closer, each movement slow, cautious, as though the thing might explode if startled. He reached out and picked it up.
Cold.
Too cold.
His fingers traced its surface, and his blood ran colder still. The emerald had been snipped. Its edges roughened, damaged—no longer pristine. This was not how a siege emerald was ever handled.
Nightfall assassins did not leave their tools behind.
They did not abandon their siege.
They did not fail.
Dave's thoughts began to race.
How is this here?
Who brought it?
Why would someone leave it where I would find it?
His grip tightened until his knuckles whitened.
Did the assassin die?
Did someone interfere?
Did someone know?
A name surfaced unbidden.
Seth.
Dave shook his head violently, as though to dislodge the thought, but it clung to him. His hands trembled. Sweat gathered at his palms, his back, his brow. His breathing became uneven.
A knock came at the door.
"My lord," his maid called gently, "may I begin my duties?"
"No!" Dave snapped, far sharper than intended. He swallowed. "No… not yet. Leave."
A pause.
"As you wish, my lord."
Her footsteps retreated.
Dave stood alone, siege emerald clenched in his fist, heart pounding like a drum of war.
He didn't finish dressing properly. He rushed through his bath, water sloshing over the sides as his thoughts spiraled. By the time he emerged, his decision was made.
Adnos.
Adnos was already in the courtyard when Dave arrived, stripped down to a sleeveless training tunic, muscles flexing as he moved through a practiced sequence of sword forms. Each strike cut the air cleanly. Controlled. Disciplined.
Dave approached quickly, glancing over his shoulder before stepping close.
"Adnos," he hissed.
The blade stopped mid-arc.
Adnos turned, frowning. "What is it? You look—"
Dave thrust the emerald forward, palm shaking.
Adnos' expression changed instantly.
He took the emerald, eyes narrowing as he examined it. The snipped edge. The ruined facets.
"This…" His jaw tightened. "Where did you get this?"
"It was in my room," Dave whispered. "On my shelf."
Silence stretched between them.
"That's impossible," Adnos said finally.
"I know," Dave snapped. "But it was there."
Adnos exhaled slowly, scanning the courtyard before motioning Dave aside, out of earshot.
"Explain. Slowly."
"I don't know how," Dave said, voice cracking with restrained panic. "My window was locked. No guards reported anything. And this—this is Nightfall."
Adnos' grip tightened. "Someone knows."
"That's what I'm saying!"
Both brothers stood tense now, the unspoken truth hovering between them like a blade.
"If Father finds out—" Dave began.
"He cannot," Adnos cut in sharply. "If he learns what we arranged, what we allowed—" His eyes hardened. "We won't survive it. Death would be merciful compared to his judgment."
Dave swallowed. "Then who?"
Adnos shook his head. "Not Seth."
Dave stiffened. "You don't know that."
"I do," Adnos said firmly. "Seth has been isolated since the incident. Watched. Monitored. Every step logged. If he moved beyond approved boundaries, Father would know."
"But that's exactly why—" Dave argued. "That's why it could be him. Seth doesn't think like us. He never did. Even before—before everything—he was… wrong. Calculated."
Adnos scoffed. "He's blind."
"That doesn't make him harmless!"
Adnos turned sharply. "Enough. He can wield a blade, yes, but he cannot fight what he cannot see—especially not an elite assassin. Don't let fear rot your judgment."
Dave opened his mouth to argue further.
Adnos raised a hand.
"Stop," he said coldly. "We will not spiral into paranoia. Someone knows. That is the problem. We find that threat and cut it out—quietly. If Father ever learns the truth, both of us will wish we were dead."
Dave clenched his fists.
"So you're just going to ignore the possibility?"
"I'm going to ignore nonsense," Adnos replied. "Now go. Clear your head."
Dave turned away, anger burning in his chest.
Later that morning, the courtyard buzzed with activity.
Sly stood near the center, practicing spell formations under the watchful eye of instructors. Arcane light flared and faded as she cast and recast, sweat beading at her brow.
Seth stood a short distance away, supported lightly by Nelly.
Dave approached.
"Leave us," he said to Nelly.
She hesitated, eyes flicking to Seth.
"It's fine," Seth said calmly.
Reluctantly, Nelly stepped away.
Dave turned to Seth.
His glare burned.
"Do you know?" Dave whispered, voice shaking with restrained fury.
Seth tilted his head. "Know what?"
"Don't play games with me."
"I'm not," Seth replied evenly.
Dave stepped closer. "I know you, Seth. Your way of thinking—it's not human. You think you can fool everyone, but you're wrong."
Seth said nothing.
"I might not be as strong as you," Dave continued, leaning in, "but my mind can outmatch yours. I know you're up to something."
"That sounds like a threat," Seth said softly.
"It is," Dave hissed. "And it won't end well for you."
Seth turned slightly toward him. "Tell me something, Dave. What is it you think you know that I'm hiding?"
Dave faltered. "What?"
"You said I'm planning something," Seth continued calmly. "What proof do you have?"
Dave scoffed. "Playing mind games now?"
"You know I've been isolated," Seth said. "I eat. I rehabilitate. I sleep. That's it."
"What's your point?"
"My point," Seth said quietly, "is that you watch me."
Dave froze.
"You have eyes on me," Seth went on. "On Nelly as well."
Silence.
"That means," Seth leaned closer, voice dropping, "you observe every moment of my day. Every step."
Dave's jaw tightened.
"So tell me," Seth whispered near his ear, "how could I possibly do anything without you knowing?"
Dave said nothing.
Seth smiled faintly.
"Let me give you a word of thought," he murmured.
"Every beginning… has an end."
He raised his hand.
Nelly returned to guide him away.
Dave stood there, staring at Seth's retreating back.
A single thought echoed in his mind.
What do you mean?