Beyond the front doors of Sapphire’s mansion, a courtyard with a crystal-clear pond and a tended garden extended, surrounded by pearly gates of steel. He left without saying a word to any of the members of the guild that were around, nor the gardeners.

Leaving the boundaries of the renowned guild’s home base, he found himself in a generally unfamiliar section of the city. He knew where it was–the “Exas Sector”--an elevated portion of the city that loomed over the rest; a residential area of estates belonging to powerful lords and high-ranking guilds.

Hedges that stood as tall as trees lined the streets of fine, spotless cobblestone; carriages of rich carpentry, decorated with lavish metal and silken fabric rolled by, pulled by proud steed. Exas was a private area, where only those who lived in the estates, or traders granted access, were able to come in and out of.

“--” Bastian looked at the pathway ahead, finding himself not much of a fan of the luxurious scenery.

He earned odd looks from the finely-dressed denizens of the exclusive community that he passed along the high-up part of the city. It wasn’t exactly far-fetched as to why he did, dressed in black with a hood covering his bandaged face, walking with a slight limp, with a glint in his emerald eyes that shone with nothing but malice.

Along the cobblestone road, he walked beside carriages that pulled ahead, passing through the maze of tall, perfectly-trimmed bushes.

“Who is that?”

“Perhaps we should inquire with one of the guards. That man reeks of suspicion.”

As he passed by luxurious estates, the high-borne denizens gossiped of the unknown figure. He paid their words no mind, reaching the trail that led down to the surface of the city.

The scenery of Velmusia from such heights made the countless structures look as minuscule as saplings.

‘I need to get home—it should still be there,’ he thought.

Though he didn’t care for what the all-too-rich occupants of the Exas sector thought of him, it seemed enough chit-chat had gained the attention of the guards.

“Hey, you!”

“Stop for a second, we need to talk.”

Behind him, the Exas guards dressed in silver armor, decorated with golden threads, called out to the suspicious figure. He didn’t look back, deciding to tug his hood down further as he made a run down the trail.

“Hey–!”

“Come back here!”

Taking off in a full sprint, he found his body still aching, listening to the yells and metallic footsteps of the armor-clad figures that now gave chase. In his way, carriages being pulled up by steed were coming towards the private community of estates, forcing him to run between them.

As the horse-drawn transports pulled by, the guards arrived with their swords drawn, looking around as the dust settled on the cobblestone, downhill trail.

There was nobody to be found; the hooded figure vanished without a trace.

“...Where did that one go?” One of the guards asked, perplexed as he glanced around.

Another tucked his sword back into his sheath, “Whatever. So long as they’re gone, it doesn’t matter.”

As the guards returned to the proximity of the high-class sector, the hooded man reappeared, tugging the mystical cowl from his head as he caught his breath. He sat against the cliff, feeling the wind at his feet as a fall a hundred meters down to the base of the city was just a stumble away.

Traversing the curving, downward trail that led into the heart of the bustling city, the sun began to dip beneath the horizon as the azure skies faded into a sepia. There was a certain quietness to the streets of the Copper Sector; it was devoid of anybody outside, all doors were closed, windows shut.

‘...It’s quiet,’ he thought.

It felt unfamiliar as it was; an unsettling deprivation of life. Yet, he felt as though eyes carefully watched him as he approached his house. The old, weathered home of eroded bricks he had seen over a thousand times, yet it hardly felt like so.

Beginning to approach the front door, he placed his hand on the doorknob, though he didn’t turn it. For a moment, he stood there as still as a statue, with only the sound of his own heartbeat against his ears.

Something wasn’t right; he could feel it.

Without a trace of sound, his boots slid back, crouching down as he circled around the side of the house. Utmost caution was taken as he pressed his body against the old material, bringing only the slightest glimpse up to one of the windows to get a view of the inside.

It was pitch-black inside; the room he looked into was his own, though the shadows obscured it completely. Waiting a minute, he didn’t hear anything nor catch anything moving in the darkness, retreating back down as he sat there for a moment.

‘If I’m going to do this, I’ll need what’s in there…’ He thought.

Above him, the sky dimmed further, prompting him to get down in a prone position, crawling beneath the foundation of the house. There was hardly enough room just to squeeze himself under, having to turn his head to the side to fit as he shimmied his body forth like a worm wriggling through the soil.

The cobwebs that obscured his path were blown away by exhales through pursed lips, continuing his slow, inefficient crawl as his cheek rubbed against the dusty soil. He did his best to move as quietly as he could, though it meant moving at a snail’s pace.

After enough crawling and blowing away spider webs, he stopped, looking up the best he could with the limited room in the claustrophobic crawlspace. There was a square cut in the wooden planks above him, with a mark on it he placed himself.

Lifting his hand, he pushed his palm against the marked spot in the deteriorating wood, causing it to pop out of place seamlessly. As he moved the false floor out of the way, only darkness could be seen above in his room.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Before crawling up through the secret entrance, he tugged the cowl over his head. Silently, he hoisted himself up, feeling his lungs throb in his body as his breathless state was exemplified by the simple action.

‘...It’s dark. Too dark,’ he thought, looking around.

He didn’t yet remove the enchanted cowl, sitting on one knee as still as a statue as he couldn’t shake the feeling he had, as if he wasn’t alone. It felt like his own home was foreign territory; as though he didn’t belong.

Like a cornered predator, his instincts awakened; those years of dungeon-crawling sharpened his senses as he remained unmoving, watching the darkness around him. Though his eyes saw nothing, his ears heard null, the chill that trickled down his back was all he needed.

From its leather scabbard, he silently slid his sharpened steel out, wrapping his fingers tightly around the handle of the dagger.

‘I can’t shake this feeling. It just feels like…death,’ he thought.

Despite the suspicions that gnawed at his mind, his lungs felt as though they were ready to burst. He slowly slid the old fabric off of his face, attempting to stifle himself from drawing a loud, desperate breath. The smallest noise made as he brought the dust-infused air into his lungs made his blood run cold in his veins, feeling as though even that minuscule sound could lure whatever lurked in his home to him.

Perhaps it was simply paranoia; he considered that, yet his mind couldn’t believe it. He knew someone was there, perhaps just a few steps in front of him, skulking in those dense shadows.

Carefully, he picked himself up to his feet, stepping as lightly as he could so as to not let the floorboards creak beneath his weight.

‘...Nothing yet. I won’t let my guard down though,’ he decided.

His eyes were well adjusted for darkness due to his experience, though even this amount was a struggle for him as he took each step slowly and carefully, feeling around with his hands as he navigated his own room. He approached his dresser, sliding the top compartment out–nothing.

It was there he kept the first half of his payment–of course, it was stolen back. Though the jewels were the last thing on his mind, it felt like a low blow from the impossibly rich nobleman.

‘Of course he would. It’s never enough for the rich, huh?’ He thought.

Crouching down in front of the bedside shelf, he removed his glove before pressing his bare fingertip against the middle drawer. The cerulean seal manifested, allowing him to move his digit in a circular motion as if guiding the inner mechanisms of a lock to be freed, releasing a quiet, yet loud “click.”

As he pulled the sealed compartment open, all of his trinkets and gadgets were still inside. Opening the magically expanding sack on his belt, he shoveled in the various items: gemstones, cogged mechanisms, and many gadgets of inexplicable use from a single glance.

Storing everything in the enchanted bag, a tug of its strings closed it up, shrinking it back down to a convenient size as he looked forward.

His eyes laid on the opened drawer, reaching into it as he ran his hands over the smooth wood. A sadness laid in his emerald irises as he pressed his fingertips along the edges of the drawer’s bottom, removing the flat tile of timber.

‘Thank goodness…It’s still here,’ he thought.

Beneath the false bottom was a small bed of fabric, wrapped around an object. He carefully retrieved it, with care unveiling what was kept within the soft hold of the velvet.

A silver ring with a dazzling jewel embedded into it: a sapphire, so perfect in its shade it was as if staring into the deep-blue of an ocean’s depths. He ran his finger across the name engraved into it, a name belonging to one he held no memories of–”Elias.”

It was an item too precious for him to wear proudly before, but now, he slid it into his index finger carefully, treasuring the only thing left to him by the one he remembered only by that single item.

‘Don’t worry. I didn’t lose it,’ he thought, keeping his ring-bearing hand close to his heart.

There was one more thing that felt necessary to check. A large part of him wanted to avoid confronting it, but he had to do it–while he was there, perhaps at his last opportunity, he turned his gaze in the direction of his late uncle’s room, entering the dark hallway.

Through the home gripped in the shadows, he carefully walked; blood laid on the floorboards, dried and old by now. The sight of that blood made the surreal feel real; the death that clung so tightly to the air became palpable.

The door was already opened, though he stopped just short of turning into the dreadful room. It frightened him, what he might find. Enough to make his fingers tremble and his stomach to feel as if it was sinking within his body.

‘What will I see when I step through that doorway? Do I want to find out?...I don’t know. But, I have to see,’ he thought.

He couldn’t ignore it. Part of him wanted to believe this entire day was a nightmare, that perhaps he’d wake up, and his beloved relative would still be alive, but he knew that was a childish dream. He needed to confirm it–to cement his contempt for the man he sought.

Into the doorway, he stepped through it, immediately being greeted by the scent of death; it hung abundantly in the dark room. Despite how dense with shadows the house was, the bed was something he could see clearly.

That bed was the prison his uncle was shackled to; a sad remembrance for a great man. What he saw made his mind go numb and his vision to blur: stains of blood were dried into the sheets.

“…Dammit…”

Seeing those bloodstains solidified it into reality: his uncle was gone. It felt as if a fundamental piece of his life was gone; an incomplete jigsaw to who he was.

He lamented the fact his mission led to this, but more so that he couldn’t be there to protect his sickly relative. More than that, perhaps, he was heartbroken that he wasn’t given the luxury of a goodbye.

“Sorry, Uncle.”

A quiet apology left his lips as he placed one hand on the bed. Within him, a small part of himself knew that the passed relative of his would be against what he planned to do, but another part of him knew it was exactly what the man himself would do.

‘I’m coming, Gaston. I won’t lose anybody else,’ he promised.

Without realizing it, the room had become noticeably darker; unnaturally so. Not a shred of light bled into the space, with the shadows seeming to creep closer to him.

“—“

A warmth gathered at his neck, sliding across his skin before an acute pain buzzed at his throat.

“Huh—“ a confused noise left his lips at the inexplicable sensation.

He stumbled back from the bloodstained bed, feeling the hairs on his body stand as his instincts flared. Bringing his fingertips up to his neck, the hotness of his own blood met his touch.

He felt along his throat, finding that there was a shallow cut across it. It was a new wound, no doubt, though it made little sense as to how it appeared.

‘A cut…What’s this?’ He questioned.

Against his ears, his heart thumped with a building panic, looking around, side-to-side, as the ominous shadows crept more abundantly into the room.

The only thing he could presume is that it was an enemy attack, though he neither saw nor heard anybody close in. Yet, he couldn’t deny right then and there that he felt the presence of “something” there in the room with him, watching from that unnatural darkness.

‘…Where…’ He questioned, nervously looking around as he backed away.

The anxiety of the unseen, unheard assailant sent his heart into a flurry. His breathing became erratic; the fear of the unknown spurred on the natural instincts within him.

Without any hesitation, he grabbed the cowl stitched to his hood with both hands, tugging it over his face. In the face of the perplexing threat before him, his only thought was to hide.

‘What is this? My neck got cut…I didn’t see or hear anybody though,’ he questioned.