The sign of Black Hollow Remedies hung dark and silent above a shuttered door. The street in front of it was empty — no bodies, no blood, no screaming. Just the night pressing down and the distant wail of a city still dying somewhere beyond the rooftops.
Alinda stopped at the edge of the square. Her blade was still in her hand. The blood on it had dried to a dark crust.
"Before we go in there," she said, "you need to understand something."
Neo stopped beside her. "What?"
"You can't trust anyone in this city. Not the guards. Not the healers. Not the woman who offers you shelter or the child who asks for help." She turned to face him. "No matter what they do for us. No matter how much they bleed. No matter what happens to them."
Neo frowned. "That woman in the square. She was Velmyn. That's different."
"Was it?" Alinda's crimson eyes held his. "You didn't know until he showed you. You knelt down. You reached out. If he hadn't revealed himself, you'd still be trying to save her."
Neo's jaw tightened. "So I'm supposed to stop caring?"
"I'm not telling you to stop caring. I'm telling you to stop trusting. Caring and trusting are not the same thing." She glanced toward the shuttered door. "The people in there will seem grateful. They'll seem scared. They'll seem like victims. Some of them will be. Some of them won't. And you won't know which is which until it's too late."
"You think Velmyn has bodies in there."
"I think Velmyn has bodies everywhere." She turned back to him. "I think he led us here for a reason. I think whatever we find inside — whatever we learn — he wants us to find it. And I think that means we can't afford to take anything at face value. Not a kind word. Not a cry for help. Not a wounded child."
Neo looked at the door. At the silence around it. At the street that was too clean. "So what do we do?"
"We go in. We find what we came for. We don't speak to anyone unless we have to. We don't tell anyone more than they need to know." She paused. "And if someone asks for your trust — don't give it."
She walked toward the door. Neo followed.
It opened before she touched it.
A woman stood in the doorway. She was tall and broad-shouldered, her tarnished silver armour dulled by the dim light spilling from inside. A long scar cut down from her left brow, across her eye, through her lips, and into her jaw — an old wound, healed badly. Her dark red hair was pulled back tight, and in her hands she held a glaive that had seen more battles than most soldiers. Behind her, the shop stretched wide and deep, its shelves cleared, its floor covered with makeshift cots and blankets. Healers in Church robes moved between the wounded. And among them, moving with the brisk efficiency of a man who had done this before, was the announcer from the demonstration — the same man who had stood on the platform in the market, who had cut off a volunteer's arm and sold the miracle of its regrowth to a cheering crowd. Now he was carrying blankets. Adjusting bandages. Setting vials on shelves and taking them down again when the healers refused.
Alinda's gaze passed over him without lingering. She stepped inside.
"You're not wounded," the woman in the doorway said. Her voice was iron.
"No," Alinda said.
"Then you're here for shelter." The woman stepped aside. "Get inside. There's room on the floor."
Alinda didn't move. "You're using Black Hollow as a triage centre."
"We're using every building that's still standing. The Church sent healers an hour ago. The cathedral's overflowing." The woman's single good eye swept Alinda from head to toe. "You can fight. Good. We need people who can fight."
Alinda moved past her without answering. Neo followed. The warmth hit him first — the press of bodies, the heat of too many people packed into too small a space. A child was crying somewhere near the back. A man was praying in a low, steady murmur. The smell of blood was everywhere.
"Your name," the woman in the doorway said. She was looking at Alinda.
"Alinda."
"And the boy?"
"He's with me."
The woman's eye moved to Neo. Studied him. Lingered on his face a moment longer than comfortable.
Then she looked away.
"Commander Elira," she said. "Lion's Gate City Guard. I'm in charge of this sector until the Church gets its feet under it. You want shelter, you follow my rules. You want to help, you follow my orders. You want to cause trouble —" She tapped the butt of her glaive against the floor. "Don't."
Alinda was already looking past her, scanning the room.
Elira followed her gaze. "Something catch your eye?"
"Just mapping the room."
"Good habit." Elira leaned her glaive against her shoulder and let out a slow breath. "Still nothing from the Triad. You'd think heroes would show up when the city's bleeding out." Her voice was quieter now, more to herself than to anyone else. "I heard they were meeting with the High Canon earlier. Planning something. Then the screaming started and no one's seen them since."
She shook her head slowly.
"That giant of theirs — the one who flattened half the Kruul at the southern front. I saw him walk through fire like it was rain." She paused. "If he were here, this wouldn't be happening. Or it would be over already. Damn shame. Could use a man like that tonight."
Neo looked at Alinda. Alinda met his eyes briefly, then looked away. Neither of them spoke.
Elira shook off the moment. "You two can take the corner near the back. Stay out of the healers' way. If you can fight, you'll get your chance before the night's over." She looked at Alinda's blade, still dark with dried blood. "What were you doing out there?"
"Following the bodies," Alinda said.
"The bodies?"
"They led here."
Elira's brow furrowed. "That doesn't make sense. We've been bringing wounded through this street all night. There's no blood out there. No bodies. Whatever hit this district missed this street entirely. We've been trying to figure out why for the past hour."
Alinda said nothing.
Elira studied her. "You're not going to tell me what you know."
"I don't know enough to be useful yet."
"Yet." Elira's mouth twitched. "Fine. Keep your secrets. But if you find something in here that explains why this building is still standing while the rest of the district is a slaughterhouse — I want to hear it."
Alinda inclined her head slightly. It wasn't agreement.
Elira turned and walked toward the front of the shop, shouting orders at a pair of guards struggling with a barricade. Alinda moved down the narrow aisle between the cots, weaving past healers, past the wounded. Neo followed close. At the back of the room she stopped near the curtain that led deeper into the shop, but she didn't push through. Instead her eyes found the announcer.
He was standing near a shelf, arranging vials with slow, methodical movements. Every few minutes he would pick one up and carry it toward a healer, and every few minutes he would be turned away.
Alinda watched him for a moment. Then she turned to Neo.
"The desk in the back — the cabinet beside it. Find a way in. Look for shipping records, supplier names, deliveries. Anything that tells us where the ingredients came from. Don't let anyone see what you're doing."
"What are you going to do?"
She glanced toward the announcer. "Keep him busy."
Neo slipped through the curtain into the back room. The space was smaller, darker, lit by a single lantern. A dozen cots lined the walls, the wounded on them worse than the ones in front. A child lay near the back, her small face pale, her hands clenched into fists. A healer knelt beside her. The air smelled of old blood and older medicine.
He found the cabinet beside the desk. Locked. He tested it once, then glanced toward the curtain. Alinda was still talking to the announcer. No one was watching. He drew his blade and worked the tip into the gap, feeling for the latch. It gave with a soft click.
Inside: ledgers. Manifests. Loose papers covered in cramped handwriting. He began sorting through them. Quantities. Dates. Prices. His eyes blurred over the numbers, looking for something — anything — that told him where the ingredients had come from. Nothing. More nothing. Then, near the bottom of the stack, a sheaf of delivery documents. Three weeks ago. Four weeks. Six weeks. Regular shipments, same time each week, same quantities. The supplier wasn't named — but every manifest bore the same mark in the corner. A shield with a tower.
He stared at it. It meant nothing to him. But it meant something to someone. He folded one of the manifests and slipped it into his tunic.
Alinda leaned her shoulder against the shelf beside the announcer. "Tell me about the shop. Before tonight. Who ran it?"
"Viktor." He didn't look up from the vial in his hands. "The manager. Hired me six months ago. Gave me a chance when no one else would."
"What happened to him?"
"Dead. Three days ago. They found him in his office." He made a vague gesture at his own chest. "Like the others out there. The Rupture got him."
Alinda filed that away. "I'm sorry."
"He was a good man. A little cold, but fair. He believed in what we were doing." The announcer's voice had gone quieter. "He was the one who found the supplier. Said they were reliable. Discreet. That was what mattered."
"The supplier. Do you know who Viktor dealt with?"
"Not a name. Just a mark on the crates." He shrugged slightly. "House Horrent. Their insignia. A shield with a tower on it. They handle deliveries all over the city. I helped unload them. It was on every crate."
"House Horrent," Alinda repeated.
The announcer nodded. "You know them?"
"I know the name." She didn't say more. House Horrent. A noble house. Money. Connections. Someone in that family had been shipping ingredients to Black Hollow for weeks. Someone who might know what was really in the potions.
"I just wanted to help people," the announcer said. His voice cracked. "That's all. I just wanted to give them what we gave Mira."
Alinda reached out and put her hand on his arm. "You did a good thing this morning. Whatever's happening tonight — that doesn't erase what you gave that girl."
His jaw trembled. He looked away, but not before she saw the brightness in his eyes. "I don't even know if it's still working. The potions. I don't know if they're still—"
"You're exhausted. You've been running on hope and adrenaline since the sun went down." She opened her arms. After a heartbeat of hesitation, he stepped into them. She folded him against her, one hand on the back of his head, the other pressed flat between his shoulder blades. He was trembling. His breath came in short, hitching gasps.
"You did well," she murmured. "You did everything you could."
Her fingers found the ring of keys at his belt. She worked them free as he drew a shuddering breath.
When she pulled back, she kept her hands on his shoulders, steadying him. His eyes were red. "Get some rest," she said. "You've earned it."
He nodded. She turned away, the keys already vanishing into her palm.
Then the shouting started outside.
Not screaming. Not the wet, visceral sounds of the Rupture. Voices. Raised in alarm, in confusion, in something that sounded almost like warning. Alinda's head came up. Across the room, Elira was already moving toward the door, her glaive in both hands.
"What now?" she muttered.
She pulled the door open. The light from inside spilled across the empty street, and for a moment, nothing moved.
Then a figure stepped into the light.
Elira.
She stood at the edge of the square, her tarnished silver armour streaked with blood, her glaive clutched in one hand, her scarred face pale beneath the red. The same scar. The same red hair. The same single eye, wide with shock.
The Elira in the doorway went rigid. "What the—"
"You." The Elira outside was already moving, her boots pounding the cobblestones. She didn't hesitate. Didn't pause to question. She just charged, her glaive coming up, her face twisting with recognition and fury. "I don't know what you are, but you're dead."
"Me?" The Elira inside lunged forward to meet her. "I've been here all night. I've got fifty wounded behind me who can prove it. You show up covered in blood wearing my face and I'm the one who has to prove I'm real?"
They collided in the doorway. Steel met steel with a shriek that echoed off the empty buildings. The Elira outside drove her double back, forcing her into the shop. A cot overturned. Bandages scattered. A woman screamed as the two identical figures crashed through the narrow aisle, trading blows between the wounded.
"Get them out!" Alinda shouted. "Move the wounded to the back!"
The healers scrambled. The announcer was pressed flat against the wall, the vial in his hands forgotten, his face a mask of shock. The guards at the barricade had their weapons drawn, but they couldn't move — couldn't choose — their eyes flicking between the two identical commanders.
The Elira inside caught her double's glaive on the haft of her own and drove a knee into her stomach. The bloody Elira staggered back, crashed into a shelf, sent vials raining across the floor. Glass shattered. The announcer stumbled away from the spray, his boots crunching on broken remedies. The Elira inside pressed her advantage, swinging high, and her double ducked under it and drove forward with her shoulder, slamming her into the wall beside the doorframe. Plaster cracked. The Elira inside grunted, caught her double's arm, and twisted.
They broke apart. Circled each other in the wreckage of the aisle. Both breathing hard. Both bleeding — the inside Elira from a cut above her eye, the outside Elira from a gash across her forearm. Neither looked like an impostor. Both looked like women fighting for their lives.
Neo appeared at Alinda's shoulder. "What's happening?"
"Velmyn. One of them is him." She drew her blade. "We're leaving."
"We can't leave. Look at them—"
"We don't know which one to help. If we pick wrong, we die. If we stay, we get drawn in." She grabbed his arm. "We have the manifest. We have the name. We go."
The outside Elira lunged. The inside Elira sidestepped and brought her glaive down in an overhead arc that would have split her double's skull. The outside Elira caught it on the haft, rolled her wrists, and redirected the blade into the floor beside her. Wood splintered. The impact jarred up both their arms.
"She's been here all night," the inside Elira snarled, wrenching her glaive free. "Ask anyone. Ask the healers. Ask the guards. I've been giving orders since the screaming started."
"And I've been out there pulling bodies out of the streets," the outside Elira shot back. "I lost half my patrol tonight. I watched men I've served with for years burst open in front of me. And I come back to find you wearing my face, standing in my command, giving orders to my people—"
"They're not your people. They're mine. You're the one who showed up out of nowhere—"
"I showed up because this is my sector—"
The outside Elira drove forward, her glaive a blur of steel. The inside Elira gave ground, parrying, her boots skidding on the blood-slick floor. A healer dove out of their way. A wounded man rolled off his cot to avoid being trampled. The guards at the barricade were shouting, trying to form a perimeter, but the two Eliras moved too fast, their battle too fluid, and no one could get close.
Neo pulled free of Alinda's grip. "I'm not walking away."
"Neo—"
"They're going to kill each other. If one of them is real—"
"We don't know which one is real." Alinda caught his shoulder, forcing him to look at her. "That's the point. He doesn't need to beat us. He just needs us to fight each other. If we stand between them, we're playing his game."
"Then what do we do?"
The inside Elira took a blow to the ribs and went down on one knee. The outside Elira raised her glaive for the killing stroke. Neo was already moving — his sword coming up, his body placing itself between the two women. The glaive struck his blade with a sound like a bell breaking. The impact drove him to his knees, but he held.
The outside Elira's eye widened. "You—"
She didn't finish. The inside Elira was already surging up from the floor, her glaive swinging at her double's head. The outside Elira parried and the force of it sent her stumbling sideways into Neo, driving him against the wall. His grip on his sword faltered.
"Stay out of this," the inside Elira snarled at him. She didn't wait for an answer. She was already pressing her double, glaive flashing, driving her back toward the shattered shelves.
Neo pushed himself off the wall. "I'm not—"
The outside Elira slammed into him, thrown by a brutal shove from her double. They went down together, tangled in an overturned cot, and before Neo could get his bearings, the inside Elira was standing over them both, her glaive raised.
"She's the impostor," the inside Elira said. "If you're helping her—"
"I'm not helping anyone—"
"Then move." She didn't wait. She swung down. Neo rolled, dragging the outside Elira with him, and the blade buried itself in the floor where his head had been.
The outside Elira threw him off and surged upright. "He's with you, isn't he? You brought him here. This is a trap."
"I don't know who he is—"
"He came in with you—"
Alinda's blade intercepted the inside Elira's next swing. Sparks rained down across the shattered glass. "He's with me," she said. "And we're not part of this."
"Then get him out of here before he gets killed," the inside Elira snapped. She didn't look at Alinda. She was already driving forward again, forcing her double back, the two of them locked in a brutal rhythm of strike and counter-strike.
The outside Elira ducked a swing and drove her elbow into Neo's chest as she passed. He staggered, gasping, and before he could recover, the inside Elira shoved him aside to get to her double. He hit the wall. His sword clattered out of his grip.
"Neo!" Alinda grabbed his collar and hauled him upright. "We're leaving. Now."
"I can't find my—"
"Leave it."
The outside Elira crashed into the shelf beside them. Vials rained down. She came up swinging, her glaive cutting a wild arc that would have taken Neo's head off if Alinda hadn't pulled him back. The inside Elira was already closing the distance, and the two women collided again, blades locked, faces inches apart.
"You brought him here," the outside Elira hissed. "You brought him here to kill me."
"I don't know him—"
"He was talking to you. I saw him. He's yours."
The inside Elira shoved her double back and swung. The outside Elira parried and drove forward with her shoulder, and the two of them crashed through the doorway and out into the street, still fighting, still screaming, their identical voices overlapping into a single furious roar.
Alinda grabbed Neo's fallen sword and shoved it into his hands. "Move. Now."
"No."
She turned. Neo was still standing in the wreckage of the aisle, his chest heaving, his eyes fixed on the door where the two Eliras had vanished. The clash of steel echoed through the empty street outside.
"Neo. We have the manifest. We have the name. We go."
"You said anyone in here could be him. The healers. The guards. The wounded." He looked at her. "You're right. But they could also be innocent. That girl in the back — she could be innocent. The announcer — he could be innocent. I'm not gambling their lives on a guess."
"It's not a guess. It's a risk calculation. We can't save everyone."
"I'm not trying to save everyone. I'm trying to save the ones who are actually in danger." He turned toward the door. "Those two out there — one of them is real. And if we leave, she dies. If we leave, the impostor wins. If we leave, everyone in this building is at the mercy of something wearing their commander's face."
"And if we stay, we might be fighting the real one. We might be helping the Archon."
"Then we don't fight. We stop them. Both of them."
Alinda stared at him. "You want to restrain two identical warriors who are trying to kill each other."
"I want to stop them from killing each other until we know which one deserves to die." He met her eyes. "You picked a lock and stole keys and talked a broken man into giving you everything he knew. You're telling me you can't figure out how to stop a fight?"
Outside, one of the Eliras screamed — a raw, furious sound that was half battle cry and half pain. The other answered with a roar.
Alinda swore under her breath. Then she moved.
"The announcer. The guards. Anyone who can still stand." She was already striding toward the door. "We need numbers. We need rope, straps, anything that can bind. We separate them, we pin them, we don't let either one move until we have answers."
"And if one of them breaks free?"
"Then we hope it's the real one." She paused at the threshold.
Behind her, the announcer was still frozen against the wall. The guards at the barricade looked between each other, their weapons still drawn, their faces still uncertain. The wounded were huddled in the back room, the girl on the cot still seizing, the healers still working.
Neo joined Alinda at the door. Outside, the two Eliras were circling each other in the empty street, their glaives raised, their breathing ragged. Neither had landed a killing blow yet. Neither was backing down.
"How do we do this?" he asked.
"We wait for an opening. When they separate, we take one each. The guards take whichever one we can't hold." She glanced at him. "You ready?"
"No."
"Good. Neither am I." She stepped through the doorway. "Let's go."
They moved into the street together. Behind them, the announcer finally pushed himself off the wall, his hands still shaking, his voice cracking as he called the guards to follow. The two Eliras didn't notice any of them. They were too busy trying to kill each other.