It was a peaceful night, and the stars were so clear overhead it seemed like I could reach up and pluck one of them down. There is an old elven tragedy that begins with that very same action, so I let the thought pass me by. When I came to the door, I found it unlocked. Pushing it open, I made my way through the hallway and towards my bedroom. Before I made it more than a few feet, Uncle Finneus was already yelling for me.

"Bartholomew, my boy, you’re back. I was afraid you would not come in time, yet you have surprised me. To think one so young could fight off the failings of youth. There is hope for you yet, there is hope for you. Come, come quickly, we have to go. There is so much to do and so little time. I’ve heard from three shadows already this evening, as well as the beggar boys. They are all reporting unusual movements from the safehouses. The game is beginning, Bartholomew, yet we might have already lost. I have a friend looking through the people of the two safehouses, but we are still going to the third. For it is here that we will find Gabriela. Put back on your coat and let’s go."

Out the door, Uncle Finneus raced. Doing just as he ordered, I grabbed my jacket and raced out the door after him, not bothering with the lock in my haste to catch up with him. By the time I caught up, Uncle Finneus’s skin had turned grey, and his fingers had sharpened into dagger-like claws. I did not comment, just like I hadn’t after the very first time I had seen it. After all, what is there to say to such a strange and creepy event? One can either accept it or run away. And clearly, I picked the former.

We raced along the roadway, passing people as we went. I was running blind, for Uncle Finneus had never told me where exactly the auction house was. I was thoroughly lost after only a few minutes of running, so if I was unable to keep up with Uncle Finneus, there was a good chance I would be wandering around until dawn trying to find my way back home.

After fifteen minutes of running faster than any natural-born human ever could, we stopped, and Uncle Finneus handed me a mask made of some sort of tree resin. It had been painted with colorful swirls, like those of dancers at festivals, portraying a laughing fox. It was blue, purple, and green. I took the mask and, without a word, slipped it on. It instantly suctioned to my face. I reached up to try and pull it away, but before I could, Uncle Finneus stopped me.

“Do not be so hasty, nephew. Let the magic finish bonding the mask to your face.”

I tried to free my hand, but he held on tightly. “What is this thing?” I demanded.

“Now is not the right time for me to explain. Just know it will hide your features. Now come along and make sure your fire is ready; we are only a few blocks from the safe house. We will see some action this night, I’m sure of it,” whispered Uncle Finneus.

I wanted to continue arguing, but Uncle Finneus did not give me the chance, moving away from me as I tried to open my mouth. As was normal, when my uncle’s foot touched the ground as he walked away, no sound came forth. I followed behind, trying without hope to reach the same level of ghosting.

Onward we moved; this time much slower. I checked behind us multiple times as my uncle had taught me, while he steadily moved forward. He seemingly took in nothing and everything all at once as he walked. When we reached a specific spot on the corner of the street next to a gutter, Uncle Finneus stopped and waved me forward. He held his finger to his lips, and we stood side by side, waiting.

A few seconds later, a shadow of a man appeared next to us. I was unable to make out his features because of the dark cloak that covered him, but he appeared abnormally tall.

“Arturo,” greeted Uncle Finneus. “Have there been any changes?”

The man's voice was like stone grinding on metal. “Yes, they’ve pulled in their outermost sentries and are gathering in force within the compound. Of the 80 or so people within the buildings, twenty of them are of magic or armed to the teeth. Every single one appears to be well trained.”

“Hmm,” said Uncle Finneus, thinking. “Were you able to identify any of the unarmed people within the complex?”

The cloaked figure shook its head. “Half of those being held within the complex have hoods on with control collars around their necks. It makes it difficult to identify anything.”

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Uncle Finneus nodded his head. “I expected that much. Come on, let's go to the ambush site we discussed earlier, the proposed one.”

Arturo nodded, and we followed behind Uncle Finneus as he began to move down the street. When we came to the door of a red brick three-story building, we slipped inside and made our way to the second floor. The building was covered in dust and appeared to have been abandoned. As I looked out one of the windows in what used to be a bedroom, droplets began to fall, pelting the window and turning the darkened evening into something out of the stories used to frighten children. With the rain distorting the streetlights, they spread their warmth out down the street we had just come from, acting like small orbs floating through empty darkness. I tapped on the windowsill, sending a small amount of flame into the glass, causing steam to rise from the window as it dried out. As I looked, shadows began to dart back and forth across the road.

I looked over my shoulder at Uncle Finneus and Arturo, who were conversing on the other side of the room in muffled tones. “Uncle Finneus, it looks like they are sending out scouts.”

“Ahh, well done, Nephew,” said Uncle Finneus, moving over to look out the window with me. “They appear to all be human, Arturo.”

The cloaked man shook his head. “That may be true for the scouts, but I spotted five of the small bastards wandering around with clubs.”

“Interesting,” said Uncle Finneus. “That would explain a few of the ways they are smuggling people in and out.”

“You think that they have built tunnels?” I asked.

“Perhaps,” replied Uncle Finneus. “But that is not relevant at the moment. Bartholomew, you will be laying down the first strike of our ambush. Once they begin to move the carriages out of the gates, I want you to wait till the count of twenty and then attack the driver of the first carriage. After that, attack and try to stay alive. Make sure to set up an early alarm system so no one can sneak up on you.”

I nodded, thinking back to the ‘Twelve Steps to Catch a King Cheating’ pamphlet my uncle had designed and made me memorize. Besides the stupid name, it provided a well-thought-out process of how not to be surprised by an enemy.

“What will you be doing then?” I asked. “And when will we be retreating? You are not planning to save everyone, are you? We do not have the numbers.”

Uncle Finneus chuckled. “Of course, we are going to save everyone, nephew. Always you worry too much. We will do it under the guise of the Magic Society, so the victims have someone to believe in. After killing off all the smugglers, we’ll hand them over to Alessandro, and he can deal with them. Our names will not be anywhere near the rescue.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “If we are planning on doing all that, why don’t we try to capture one of them and interrogate them for information? It’s not as if this group are the only victims. If we are working so hard to save this group, should we not bring down the empire behind it?”

Uncle Finneus’s face turned serious. “Bartholomew, while most of the time I want you to be less timid, it is only when looking at a situation where you are aware of all the variables. If we were to capture one of the smugglers, and it becomes known, the ‘Empire’ will attack and prepare for the worst-case scenario, closing the door on us and uncovering the deeper secrets hidden beneath the scant surface we have scratched already. Trafficking is not done by just one group. It takes a significant amount of manpower, political control, and money to even begin to run a trafficking ring within a civilized society such as Glueburn. Thanks to the usually isolated nature of the groups within such a ring, where one group knows certain information and only that, capturing one link in the cog will not allow us to bring the whole thing down. I say all of this, so you understand that we need to kill everyone. Capturing them is not an option. We will keep things simple tonight. Death is always the simplest of options.”

I shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Uncle Finneus turned to Arturo. “Does the contract we agreed upon cover wet work, or will we need to add an addendum?”

Arturo shrugged, or at least moved his cloak to appear like a shrug. “The contract does not cover it. But I would be happy to do some off-the-books training for you.”

Uncle Finneus smiled. “Arturo, you insult me and yourself by offering free work. You’re a businessman; you cannot do work without pay. You are offering a technical ability that most people do not have. You can’t sell that skill for free.”

Arturo offered a slight bow to my uncle. “I very much appreciate the compliment, Mr. Burgeon, but I cannot accept any more than you’ve already given me. Even accepting that many fills me with discomfort. After everything you did for my sister, you know?”

Uncle Finneus raised a hand to stop him. “Bah, child, enough. We have long moved past the time for gratitude, and we do not have time for this nonsense. Arturo, you will attack from the back, do not start moving till my nephew has begun to attack.”

“Very well,” said the shadowed man.

Uncle Finneus tipped his hat to me in a gesture of farewell and disappeared out of the room together with Arturo, who followed at his heels, leaving me alone to look out the window again.

Soon the falling rain covered the window, and I was only able to make out vague shapes in the darkness. There was a muffled groan, and light flooded the street. Because of the window, I was unable to make out anything else. Reaching out, I tapped my finger on the glass, sending heat into it. The window shattered, falling from the second story onto the ground far below like a sprinkle of stars.

“Who goes there?” came a gruff cry.

Without the glass to cover my vision, I saw that one of the large wooden carriages had made its way out of the gate, though it appeared another two were following close behind.

“Hey, what are you doing up there?” came a voice directly below me.

I looked down to see a human with a crossbow aimed at me. Looking at him, I saw out of the corner of my eye that another carriage had moved past the gate.

The man below me did not appear swayed. “I’ll give you three seconds to identify yourself before I put this arrow through your chest. Three, Two, One.”

I took a deep breath, called the fire, and breathed out. The flame flew from my mouth like water from the mouth of a river. There was a terrified scream as the man was engulfed in my breath, then silence except for the fire that licked at the husk lying on the street below.