Kiel stood frozen, his mind reeling. Dot was gone. Vanished without a trace.

He gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles white. This couldn't be happening. Not Dot. Not his little brother in all but blood.

How is this possible? I was only away for a few hours...

He forced himself to breathe, to think. Panic would do him no good now. He needed to be methodical, to approach this like he would any other problem.

Who would want to take Dot? What could they possibly gain?

The boy was unAwakened, his Potential still dormant. A [Sacrificer] could theoretically make use of him, draining his latent power for their own ends. But why target Dot specifically? There were dozens of brats on the streets with untapped abilities. Unless...

A chill ran down Kiel's spine. Unless they weren't after Dot at all. Unless he was just the bait...

A chill slithered down Kiel's spine. As a [Skill Trainer], he was a rare and coveted prize. If the heretic had somehow learned his true identity...

He shook his head sharply. No. I won't jump to conclusions. Not until I have proof.

Kiel grabbed his cloak, throwing it around his shoulders as he headed for the door. He needed information, and he knew just where to get it.

The streets were a labyrinth of shadows as he hurried through the night, his footsteps echoing too loudly on the cobbles. He kept his head down, his hood pulled low. Anonymity was his watchword now.

His first stop was Jenni's brothel but when he slipped through the beaded curtain, Jenni just shook her head.

"Sorry, love. Ain't heard nothin' about your boy. I'll keep an ear out, but..." She spread her hands helplessly.

Kiel gritted his teeth, moving on. Skerp was next, the half-orc ragman who haunted the docks. Surely he'd know something.

But Skerp just scratched his head, his bloodshot eyes puzzled. "Yer lad? Nah, ain't seen 'im. Whaddya mean, disappeared?"

One after another, Kiel's contacts came up empty. No one had seen Dot. No one knew anything. It was as if the ground had opened up and swallowed the boy whole.

By the time he reached Marek Slaine's den, Kiel was desperate. The fence was his last resort, a dangerous man with a long memory. But he was also the best informed soul in Arkrest.

Marek leaned back in his chair, idly picking his teeth with a dagger. "Well, well. Back already?"

Kiel bit back his anger, his frustration. "I need your help. It's Dot, he's...he's gone."

"Gone?" Marek raised an eyebrow. "As in run off? Or something more sinister?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm here." Kiel spread his hands. "I'll pay, Marek. Whatever you want. Just tell me you've heard something, anything."

The fence was silent for a long moment, his eyes glittering in the candlelight. Then he sighed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, lad. But there's been no word. Not a whisper."

Kiel's heart sank. He'd played his last card, and came up empty. Marek was his final hope. Without him...

No. I won't give up. I can't.

He stumbled out into the night, his mind whirling. There had to be something he'd missed, some avenue unexplored. Dot needed him. He couldn't fail the boy, not like this.

Think, damn you! Where else could he be? Who else might know?

And then it hit him, a bolt from the blue. There was one faction he hadn't considered, one group with eyes and ears throughout the city.

The Beggar's Guild.

Kiel's eyes narrowed. He hated dealing with the beggars, with their sly ways and grasping hands. They were a slippery bunch, always angling for an edge. But they were also everywhere, as much a part of Arkrest as the stones and mortar.

If anyone had seen what happened to Dot, it would be them. But their help wouldn't come cheap. He'd need to trade favors, or cough up enough coin to make it worth their while.

So be it. If that's what it takes, I'll pay the price. I'll scour every gutter and back alley in this damned city.

Kiel turned his steps toward the Beggar King's court, his jaw set with determination. He didn't want to dance to the old rogue's tune, but what choice did he have?

Dot's life is on the line. And I won't let him down.

***

Kiel strode into the Beggar King's Court, his face an impassive mask. The familiar stench of unwashed bodies and cheap alcohol assailed his nostrils, but he didn't flinch. He was long past being intimidated by Rask's little kingdom of filth.

The Beggar King lounged on his throne, a grotesque parody of royalty. His piggy eyes glittered with amusement as Kiel approached.

"Well, well," he drawled. "If it isn't the [Skill Trainer]'s little errand boy. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Kiel met his gaze coldly, unflinching. "Skip the pleasantries, Rask. I'm here for information. A boy has gone missing. Dot. I want to know if you've heard anything."

Rask's eyebrows rose in mock surprise. "A missing boy? And what makes you think I would know anything about that?"

Kiel's jaw tightened. "Don't play games with me, Rask. Dot's one of yours. A street kid. If anyone saw what happened to him, it's your people."

The Beggar King chuckled, a phlegmy, unpleasant sound. "My, my. Such bravado. What happened to the stuttering little apprentice act, hmm? I was wondering when you’d drop that, it got irritating quite fast."

Kiel's hands clenched into fists, but he kept his voice even. "I don't have time for this. Do you know something or not?"

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Rask leaned forward, his face splitting into a yellow-toothed grin. "Information is a valuable commodity, boy. What are you offering in exchange?"

Kiel reached into his cloak, tossing a pouch of coins at Rask's feet. It clinked heavily on the filthy floor. "There. That should be more than enough for any scraps you've managed to gather."

Rask scooped up the pouch, weighing it in his palm. "Hmm. A generous donation, to be sure. But I deal in more than just coin, as you well know." His eyes glinted with cruel amusement. "A favor, perhaps? For old times' sake?"

Kiel's stomach turned. He knew all too well what Rask's "favors" entailed. Planting evidence, delivering poisons, eliminating inconvenient rivals. The Beggar King's reach extended far beyond his court of filth.

But Dot's life was at stake. He couldn't afford to balk now.

"Fine," he spat. "A favor. But I want your word, Rask. Swear on your precious throne that you'll tell me what you know."

Rask pressed a hand to his chest, his face a picture of wounded innocence. "You doubt my honor? I'm hurt, truly." He cackled at Kiel's stony expression. "Oh, very well. I swear, on my crown and kingdom. Satisfied?"

Kiel gave a curt nod. "Talk, then. What have you heard?"

The Beggar King settled back, steepling his fingers. "Whispers, mostly. Strange doings in the night. Figures skulking in the shadows." He shrugged. "Of course, in a city like Arkrest, that could mean anything."

Kiel gritted his teeth. "Tell me something I don’t know, Rask. I need a lead. Something concrete."

Rask sighed theatrically. "So demanding. Very well. Some of my little birds did see something a few hours ago when your boy vanished. A cloaked figure, it took the boy to Narthic Quarter."

Kiel's heart leapt. The Narthic Quarter? That’s on the other side of the city.

"You're certain?" he demanded. "Your people saw this?"

Rask spread his hands. "As certain as one can be, in these uncertain times. It's the best I have to offer."

Kiel's mind raced. The Narthic Quarter. It was a lead, at least. Somewhere to start. But he'd need help. The place was a labyrinth of twisting alleys and dead ends, easy to get lost in. Easy to disappear.

Facing a possible Level 7 [Heretic] was suicidal. As much as he hated it, he needed allies.

He needed the Inquisition.

Kiel turned abruptly, his cloak swirling. "I'll be in touch, Rask. Remember our deal."

The Beggar King's laughter followed him out. "Oh, I'll remember, boy. Be sure that you do, as well. I'd hate for you to forget what you owe me."

Kiel strode out into the night, his face grim. Rask's words echoed in his ears, a taunting reminder of the price he'd paid.

But it would be worth it if it meant saving Dot.

He'd go to the Inquisition. Spin them a tale of a missing apprentice, beg for their aid. He'd grovel and plead, play the frightened, desperate pharmacy boy to the hilt.

He wouldn’t let Dot die. Not yet.

***

Ulric Harten frowned at the parchment in his hands, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across the cramped lines of script. Another report of a disappearance, this time a journeyman blacksmith. That made five in the last week alone.

I'm missing something. There must be a pattern, a connection between the victims.

He rubbed his eyes, biting back a curse. This damned case got thornier by the day. They were chasing a ghost, an ethereal killer flitting through the night like smoke. Always one step ahead, taunting them with their grisly handiwork.

A sudden hammering at the door broke the Inquisitor's reverie. He glanced up, startled, as the pounding came again. Louder now, more insistent.

What in the Light's name...?

Ulric stood, sweeping the parchment aside. It was well past midnight, far too late for casual callers. His hand fell to the hilt of his sword, a habit born of long years in the Order's service.

He opened the door warily, peering into the darkened hall beyond. "Yes? Who's there?"

"M-master Inquisitor! Please, I need your help!"

Ulric blinked. He recognized that stammering voice. "Kavi? The pharmacist's apprentice? What are you doing here, lad?"

The boy stumbled forward, his face pale and drawn beneath his hood. "I-It’s actually Kiel, sir. I'm sorry to disturb you, but...it's my friend. Dot. He's gone missing."

The Inquisitor frowned. "Missing? What do you mean?"

"He's disappeared!" Kavi's voice cracked with strain. "I was only gone for a few hours, and when I came back, he was just...gone."

Ulric sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. A runaway apprentice? That hardly seemed like Inquisitorial business. "Lad, I'm sorry for your friend, but this is a matter for the city guard. It's not really our purview."

"But what if it's connected?" Kavi burst out frantically. "To the other disappearances, the ones you're investigating?"

That gave Ulric pause. He eyed the boy thoughtfully. "And what makes you think that, lad?”

Kavi flushed, dropping his gaze. "I...forgive me, Master Ulric. I didn't mean to presume. It's just...Dot isn't the sort to run off. And with all the other people going missing..."

He trailed off awkwardly. Ulric studied him for a long moment, his eyes narrowed.

He has a point. It seems an odd coincidence...

"This friend of yours," the Inquisitor said slowly. "Dot, was it? What Class is he? What Skills did he have?"

Kavi blinked, looking confused. "Dot? He...he wasn't Awakened. Just a normal boy, unClassed and Unskilled."

"An unAwakened youth?" Ulric's tone sharpened. "And you think the heretic took him? Why? What use would they have for a Classless child?"

"I don't know!" Kavi's voice rose with frustration. "That's why I'm here! I hoped you might...you might be able to find him."

An unClassed boy...it doesn't fit the pattern. Unless...Could it be a coincidence after all?

Ulric frowned, troubled. Something didn't add up. The heretic had only targeted those with Skills before, established tradesmen and minor nobles. What would they want with a gutter brat?

"Tell me, lad, do you have any enemies? Anyone who might use the boy to get to you?"

Kavi gaped at him, his eyes wide with shock. "What? No! I mean...I'm just an apprentice. Who would want to hurt me?"

The boy sounded sincere, but there was an odd undertone to his words. A hint of fear, or perhaps guilt? Ulric's instincts prickled.

He's hiding something. But what? And why?

The Inquisitor sighed wearily. This was all he needed, another wrinkle in an already hopelessly snarled case. But he could hardly turn the boy away, not if there was even a chance his friend was in danger.

"Very well. I'll look into it. But I'll need more to go on. When and where did you last see this Dot?"

"He was at the shop," Kavi said quickly. "I left him to watch the counter when I went to make my deliveries. But when I got back..."

"He was gone," Ulric finished grimly. The boy nodded miserably.

The Inquisitor stood abruptly, reaching for his cloak. If the boy had vanished from Kavi's own place of business, it cast the whole affair in a more sinister light.

And if Vian was watching the shop, as he said he would be...Light preserve him, has my apprentice in trouble as well?

"Master Ulric?" Kavi looked up at him anxiously. "Is something wrong? Do you...do you think you can find him?"

"I don't know, lad," Ulric said honestly. "But we must try."

He pulled a small silver medallion from his pocket, gripping it tightly. It was linked to a twin that Vian wore, a way for master and apprentice to track one another. The metal thrummed beneath his fingers, attuning itself to his will.

Ulric frowned. Something was wrong. The medallion quivered in his hand, the return pulse weak and thready. He tightened his grip, focusing his will.

Come on, lad. Where are you?

The link shuddered, then flared to life. A rush of sensation engulfed Ulric, a dizzying whirl of images and impressions. Stone walls, dripping with damp. The clank of rusted chains. A high, childish scream of terror...

Ulric let out a hissed breath, his heart pounding. "That fool boy! I told him not to go off alone!"

Kavi looked at him wildly, his face pale. "What? What is it? Do you know where Dot is?"

"Not yet," the Inquisitor growled. "But I know where Vian is. Or at least where he was. And I fear he's in trouble."

He turned for the door, his cloak billowing. Kavi scrambled to keep up, his eyes wide with fear and confusion.

"My foolish apprentice decided to stake out your shop," Ulric spat over his shoulder. "Seems he couldn't let go of his suspicions about you. And now his marker shows he's clear across the city, in the old Narthic Quarter."

“The Narthic Quarter? Why would Dot be there?"

"I don't know," Ulric snarled. "But that's where we're going. And Light help the whoreson who took my apprentice."

His face was grim as he stalked out into the night, Kavi stumbling along in his wake. The game had changed. The heretic had gone too far this time.

They'd snatched an innocent boy off the streets. And now they'd taken Vian. His apprentice, his responsibility.

That could not stand. Would not stand. Ulric Harten had hunted heretics and dark magic users across half of the State of Meioria. He'd faced down demons and madmen, monsters wearing human skin.

He would not fail now. Vian and this Dot child depended on him. And by the Light, he would not let them down.

Hold fast, lad. I'm coming.

And as he ran, Ulric offered up a silent prayer. To the Light, to any Power that might be listening.

Let me be in time. Please, let me be in time...