Linus moved through the winding streets of Thornfield, his steps light and deliberate. The moon hung high in the sky, casting long shadows across the streets. For Linus, shadows were not something he feared; instead, he commanded them. With a subtle flick of his hand, he summoned the darkness around him, letting it coil and twist until it cloaked his form completely. The shadows thickened, shrouding him in a near-invisible veil, concealing his every movement.

The two figures advanced, their footfalls a soft echo in the stillness of the night. Abruptly, one of them stopped, his gaze piercing the shadows, suspicion etched on his face. Linus remained a statue, his form merging seamlessly with the darkened alley. The lantern's light flickered, briefly illuminating the cobblestones, then swallowed by the darkness, leaving Linus concealed.

The man's hand drifted to the hilt of a dagger at his side, his posture tense. Linus could sense the man's unease and could feel the weight of his gaze sweeping the alley behind him. But in this darkness, Linus knew he was all but invisible, but you can never underestimate a cornered animal's instincts.

Finally, the man grunted and turned away, shaking his head. "Nothing," he muttered, and the two men resumed their pace down the narrow street.

Linus exhaled slowly, the tension easing from his body as he straightened and continued his pursuit. The men moved down the street, unaware of their silent follower.

The men led him to an inn, a modest establishment with a faded sign that swung gently in the night breeze. Linus kept his distance, watching as they stepped inside. He paused, his eyes scanning the inn's exterior for any openings or weaknesses. The windows were high and narrow, offering little visibility.

Still cloaked in shadow, Linus circled the building, his sharp gaze searching for a way to listen in without being detected. He let the darkness guide him as he moved silently across the street, assessing his options.

Realizing he would have to take a more direct approach, Linus dissolved the shadow magic that had concealed him and stepped into the inn. The common room was dimly lit, the low flicker of candles casting long shadows across the sparse crowd. A few patrons sat hunched over their drinks, lost in their thoughts, while a weary-looking innkeeper cleaned glasses behind the bar.

Keeping his hood low, Linus blended into the background, moving with practiced ease. His eyes quickly found the two men he'd been following—they had taken a table near the back, speaking in low, cautious tones. Linus moved toward an empty corner, pretending to glance over the inn's offerings while quietly assessing the best way to get closer without drawing attention.

As his gaze swept the room, something else caught his eye. A man at a nearby table had risen abruptly, his movements hurried and clumsy. Linus tensed, sensing a shift in the room. The man looked nervous, his eyes darting toward the back table before he turned to leave in a rush.

In haste, the man collided with another patron, sending plates and cutlery crashing to the floor with a loud clatter. The sudden noise shattered the inn's quiet, heads snapping up as everyone present looked toward the commotion. The men Linus had been watching immediately turned their attention to the scene as well, their conversation forgotten for the moment.

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The man who had tried to leave hastily gathered himself, his hands shaking as he picked up a fallen plate, his face flushed with embarrassment—or fear. He glanced over his shoulder again, his eyes wide with panic, before bolting for the door. Linus's sharp instincts told him there was more to this than a simple accident.

As the door swung shut behind the fleeing man, Linus caught the briefest exchange between the two men at the back table—a glance that passed between them, quick but telling. Whatever had just happened, it had rattled them.

Linus watched closely as the men exchanged a subtle glance before they rose from their seats. His eyes followed their every step as they headed toward a staircase leading to the rooms upstairs.

Keeping his posture relaxed, Linus leaned casually against the bar, glancing around the room as if assessing the inn's atmosphere. As the innkeeper shot a quick look his way, Linus gestured for another drink. The man behind the bar obliged, pouring the ale with a tired grunt.

His fingers wrapped around the tankard, but Linus focused entirely on the men ascending the stairs. He watched their feet disappear around the corner and noted how they walked without hesitation.

As they vanished from view, Linus pushed himself off the bar and took a slow sip of his drink. He moved across the room, careful to remain casual.

When he reached the base of the stairs, Linus hesitated for a split second, pretending to observe an old painting on the wall. He could hear the faint creak of floorboards above him as the men moved down the hall.

Slowly, Linus began to ascend the stairs, careful not to draw attention. He paused briefly at the top of the stairs, letting the men gain some distance ahead of him. His eyes darted to the hallway. The dim light from wall sconces barely illuminated the narrow corridor, but it was enough for Linus to see the faint outline of the men as they stopped near a door.

From his vantage point, it was difficult to determine the exact number of the door. He caught the moment when one of the men produced a key, inserting it into the lock and pushing the door open. The soft click of the door closing behind them echoed in the otherwise silent hallway.

Linus's sharp eyes flicked to the number on the door, quickly committing it to memory: Room 7.

Satisfied with what he'd learned, Linus turned casually and descended the stairs, his expression unchanged, his body language calm. He returned to the common room and stepped out into the cool night air, the door swinging shut quietly behind him.

Finding a secluded spot in the shadows of a nearby alley, Linus paused. He glanced around to ensure no one was watching, then focused inward, summoning the familiar power of his shadow magic. The darkness around him seemed to thicken as he raised his hand, concentrating his will.

From the deep shadows of the alley, a dark shape began to materialize—a shadow bird, its form faint and elusive. Its wings fluttered softly as it hovered in front of Linus, blending seamlessly with the dark alley.

Linus thought to himself, "Keep an eye on them. Stay hidden, and let me know if they leave the room."

The shadow bird dipped its head, acknowledging the command, before fluttering silently toward the inn. It moved through the night like a wisp of darkness, unnoticed as it slipped through a barely cracked window and found a perch near Room 7, where it would keep watch unseen.

Satisfied, Linus stepped back into the street, the night folding around him as he melted into the shadows. The bird would remain vigilant, and when the moment came, he would be ready. His footsteps were silent as he disappeared into the winding streets of Thornfield, his mind already spinning with possibilities for the next phase of his plan.