We didn’t rush. Rushing would tip them off.

Drea went first, moving at a steady, unhurried pace as if we had found nothing of importance, while I trailed behind, occasionally stopping to pretend to skim another book. My heart pounded, but I kept my breathing steady, controlled.

We weren’t running.

We were hunting.

The library was massive, with endless aisles of towering bookshelves casting long shadows in the flickering lantern light. Quiet footfalls, the rustle of parchment, the occasional hushed whisper filled the air, blending into the normal background noise of the great hall.

But I wasn’t listening for normal sounds.

I was listening for someone trying too hard to be silent.

As we moved toward the main staircase, I glanced between the rows of shelves. Most of the scholars and scribes were too absorbed in their work to even glance our way. But someone was still watching. Tracking our movements.

A flicker of movement near the far end of the hall.

Someone ducking out of sight just as I turned my head.

Not a scholar.

Not a librarian.

They were staying close, but not too close—keeping just far enough back to avoid drawing attention. But I had played this game before. They were waiting for us to step out of the library, out of the public eye.

I leaned over a nearby table, flipping open a random book to stall for time. Drea, already near the door, stopped just before stepping outside and adjusted her glove, waiting.

Good. She’d caught on.

We weren’t leaving until we had an idea of who—or how many—were following us.

I turned a page absently, scanning the reflection in the polished brass inkwell on the table.

There.

A shadow shifting just beyond the last bookshelf.

I resisted the urge to tense, to react. Instead, I kept my posture relaxed, running my fingers over the worn paper as if nothing was wrong.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Then, finally, I straightened and walked toward the door.

Drea stepped out first. I followed.

And behind us, our shadow followed too.

The transition from the quiet hum of the library to the roaring pulse of the city was immediate.

Stepping onto the wide stone street, the world burst back into motion. The capital never truly slowed. Carriages rattled along cobbled roads, their wheels splashing through shallow puddles left from an earlier rain. Merchants barked about their wares, their voices mixing with the sounds of distant hammering from a blacksmith’s forge. The scent of baking bread, burning oil, and damp stone filled the air.

But I barely noticed any of it.

Because I could still feel them.

The presence hadn’t left.

Whoever had been following us inside the library was still there, lurking just outside my peripheral vision, keeping their distance but not breaking away.

I didn’t look back. I didn’t speed up. We had planned for this.

Drea moved ahead of me, keeping a casual pace, her steps light, her posture relaxed. She passed by a cluster of food vendors, pausing only for a moment—just enough time to make sure I was still following—before slipping down a narrow alleyway between two stone buildings.

I counted the steps between us.

One. Two. Three.

I kept walking.

The street was still bustling, still alive with people. But I could feel the presence behind me, keeping their measured distance. The weight of their attention settled on me like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

Ten seconds.

Fifteen.

Twenty.

I reached the alley entrance. Drea should be waiting just ahead.

I turned the corner.

And stopped.

Drea was on the ground.

Face down, motionless, her axe half-loose in her grip.

I went still.

The street noise behind me muffled into nothing.

A cold spike of adrenaline shot through me, my body tightening, my mind suddenly pulling in every detail at once.

The alley was empty.

No sign of a struggle. No blood. No attacker waiting in the shadows.

Just Drea.

Just me.

And just the sound of a single footstep behind me.

A sudden, sharp pain exploded at the base of my skull.

My vision blurred, a white-hot burst of agony tearing through my head. My knees buckled, my balance ripped away in an instant. The world tilted—the stone walls of the alley spinning, the dim light warping into streaks of color.

I tried to turn, tried to react, but my limbs felt sluggish, distant.

Then everything went dark.