Bereft of hope, a once proud golden-blue gaze held its image in the glistening edge of a dagger. Long hours of plotting left the youth with sable circles and skin more sallow than wax. But the boy didn't dwell on his sorry state or the man he had come to kill. Instead, he slipped towards a gaudy bed, each step calculated to avoid creaking the oak floorboards.

His attention fell to the steady ebb and flow of the man's chest as he reached to grab a gold-laced pillow. He could feel its coolness in his hands, and as he smothered it over the slumbering figure’s face, he could feel him struggle, his body squirming desperately to breathe.

The man tried to shout, but only the sound of steel slicing flesh and the bubbling of blood filled the room as the boy plunged his dagger into the man’s neck. The sweet scent of alcohol and expensive cologne was obscured by the metallic tang of blood.

Removing the pillow, the boy watched the man’s steely gray eyes flicker with fury before dimming in death.

You can learn a lot from a person's eyes, especially before they die. Most stare back in fear, body stiff, face streaked with tears. Some, like the man, glare back with rage and spite, resolved to live and to fight. Fewer look back in resignation, understanding they can do nothing to change their fate. Knowing they should cherish their last moments before it's too late. Even fewer have eyes like us...

Whatever form they took, the gazes of the dying always left the boy feeling hollow. Closing the man's eyes one final time, the boy clasped his hands together and whispered a quiet prayer.

♫"I give myself to the Lady of Water."

"Please pardon me for my sin of slaughter."

"I will gladly pay your toll,"

"So please be a shepherd for this man's poor soul."♫

'I pray that you still live, Lady Yivlä.'

*Why do you still pray?* a feminine voice in his head sneered. *She'll never answer.*

'… I suppose it helps me cope, to feel human.' the boy replied, the bitterness in his tone betraying his frustration.

*Pfft, what a pointless sentiment. Well, it's good to know you can serenade the enemy with useless rhymes if we ever get caught.*

'Yes, I must thank Yivlä that I was blessed with such a beautiful voice and the patience to suffer you.' the boy retorted, a hint of humor in his tone.

Oblivious to the boy's internal monologue, Mr. Miron lay in his bed. Bathed by the moon, his white beard and hair contrast the now crimson sheets. He looked oddly ethereal, almost at peace...

'May he find a fairer fate in his next life.'

With a soft sigh, the boy's eyes again glazed over. Returning to his usual professionalism, he erased his presence, stowed his knife, and scrambled out the window from which he entered.

The boy paused to listen for any signs of pursuit, and when none came, he stalked towards the billowing factories and fetid slums across the river, leaving the lustrous estates of Solbrook's Northern Borough behind.

Dipping between dark and dank alleyways, the boy felt a rare, delicate breeze caress his cheeks. Stopping, the youth stared skywards and watched the wind part the polluted air obscuring the heavens.

'At least the moon is beautiful tonight.'

Under the moon, the boy pulled a sticky, pulsating, black ball from his jacket. If anyone were nearby, they would surely retch from the foul stench, but the boy casually put it into his mouth and swallowed it with a grimace. The putrid smell of decaying flesh slowly dissipated, leaving a small ebony tear as the only evidence of the orb’s existence.

*Mmm, delicious.*

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With a slight shiver and softened steps, the boy continued his journey through the alleyway, his hood pulled low to shield his face from prying eyes. The rough and uneven cobblestones felt cold and damp beneath the boy's worn-out boots, the subdued splash of the occasional puddle the only sign of his progress through the night.

Reaching the back of an unassuming noodle shop, the boy took a deep breath and knocked on the door. "Thump … Thump Thump … Thump … Thump Thump Thump"

The old door's sliding panel creaked open, inquisitive eyes peering out into the dark. After a slight hesitation, a short, portly man opened the door with a wide grin.

Gesturing with a weathered freckled hand, the man beckoned the boy inside. "Come in, come in, it's good to see you squirt. How are ya?"

The boy rolled his eyes at the familiar greeting, "Just splendid, Sam. Who wouldn't be delighted to meet your charming self in a shady alleyway in the dead of night."

A low, raucous laugh escaped from the man's protruding belly. "I'm glad someone feels that way. Also, Mer, it's just us here, so there's no need to use our cover names. Come tell me about your mission.” Gesturing to a nearby seat.

As Mer updated Theo on his mission, he sat at a small wooden table in the corner of the room. The air was heavy with the scent of green tea, which Theo had poured into a pair of delicate porcelain cups. A lone magical lamp illuminated the hunched figures of the two men.

"You did well, Mer," Theo said, his eyes sparkling with pride. The redhead tossed a small pouch toward the hooded boy.

"Treat your sister to a nice meal, will ya, lad? Oh, and take this." Theo passed a trim package across the table.

Mer unwrapped the parcel to reveal a handful of sticky rice cakes, leaving a smile on his face. "Thank you, Theo. These are my sister's favorites."

Then, with a slightly nervous, maybe even guilty look, Theo pulled out a sealed envelope from his overcoat and gave it to the youth.

*Ooo, another mission. How fun.*

'You have a twisted sense of fun,' Mer responded sardonically.

Quickly stuffing the letter into his jacket, Mer got up to leave. "Thank you, Theo. I better get going now. Take care."

"You too, and, uhh, watch out… I think HE might suspect something." Theo said, his voice low and wary.

Upon hearing this, the hooded figure briefly paused and then resumed his walk through the slums.

'I hope Theo doesn't suffer more because of me. He's been through enough.'

*Guilt won't help you now; he's useful to us, and the snacks he supplies are certainly to diiee for…* The voice cackled at its own joke.

'...'

Mer slowed as he approached a small, crumbling hut, sighting its crooked, sagging roof and walls made from an unstable medley of bamboo and sticks. The musty rot emanating from his home made him wrinkle his nose, but he tried to hide his discomfort, pulling down his hood to reveal a mop of tangled hair and weather-scarred cheeks.

Mer rummaged through his bag, stuffing his tools deep inside as he tried to tidy his tattered clothes. When ready, he gave the slanted door a gentle knock, waiting patiently, a grin slowly spread across his face. After a few moments, the door squeaked open, revealing his half-asleep sister with a tender smile. The aroma of roasting vegetables immediately permeated the air, causing Mer's stomach to grumble in hunger.

"It's good to have you home," Ema said softly, rubbing her bleary eyes. "Come inside and warm yourself up. I've made some potato and leek soup. I'll reheat it for you."

The floorboards creaked as Mer stepped inside and felt the warmth of the hut enveloping him like a cocoon. The fire crackled in the corner, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Despite its shabby state, Ema had done her best to make their home cozy.

For a brief moment, Mer paused and peered into the girl's eyes, looking past their bubbly blue exterior to gaze into a well of sorrow. "It's good to be home," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ema motioned for him to sit at their shaky table as she offered him a steaming bowl of soup.

"You look awful," Ema observed, eyeing her brother with concern.

Mer ruffled his sister's hair in mock hurt, causing her to pout.

"You wound me so. I look as handsome as ever but thank you for the meal. I don't know what I would do without you."

"Hey, don't mess up my hair, Mer," Ema protested, a smile pulling at her lips. "Ahh, whatever; I'm going back to bed soon anyway, so it doesn't matter. How was work?"

"You know, the same old boring stuff, helping Sam out with the shop. Some fool got too drunk again and started a fight with another customer. Fortunately, neither were cultivators this time, so no real damage was done."

*Oh, wow, she seems soo convinced.* The voice drawled.

'More convinced than I am of your supposed goodwill...'

*I told you, I'm here to help you… To restore y'

'Shut it.'

*Tsk, you'll come around one day.*

'I highly doubt that.'

Ema shot Mer a quizzical look but said nothing more. "So, when is your next day off, brother?"

"If it were up to the boss, not before I'm dead, but Sam's managed to butter him up enough to get me a day off next week, so we can go around the city together. Your oh-so-generous brother will even treat you to lunch at Honeyed Valley."

As Ema recounted the local gossip and talked about her day working at Mrs. Smith's restaurant, the already small fire slowly burnt out.

"Hmm, it's almost sunrise, brother; you should go to bed so you aren't too tired tomorrow."

"Ahh, as always, you are right, missy. Goodnight, and sweet dreams."

Although Mer knew they probably wouldn't be… For either of them.