The flames were yet to die down completely. The feathers, when they caught fire, had been a sight to behold – throwing multicoloured sparks of gold, silver and scarlet in all directions. The most exquisite fireworks Ruban had ever seen could not so much as begin to compare.

The distinctive sound of police sirens filled the air as Ashwin threw the windows open to let the smoke out – the ones which hadn’t been shattered during the fight, anyway.

At Ruban’s questioning glance, the Aeriel shrugged. “I texted Simani when we found the stolen ores in the safe. Guess she sent backup.”

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The Hunter snorted. “You’re getting a hang of this, aren’t you? Won’t be long before you’re a full-fledged Hunter.”

“Zeifaa preserve me from such a fate,” Ashwin shuddered, even as his wings dissolved like smoke behind him. “What are you going to tell them?”

“The truth.” Ruban sighed, shook his head. Reaching behind a scorched couch, he dragged the bedsheet into which they had stashed the contents of the safe out into the room. Rifling through the documents, he finally found what he was looking for: the letter from his father to his uncle, dated a week before the former’s death. Mouth set in a grim line, he slipped it into his pocket. “Well, most of it anyway.”