As the soft murmur of the crowd filled the theater, Linus’s attention shifted to the entrance. His eyes settled on Eliza, the mayor’s wife, as she made her way to her private seating area. She moved with an air of grace, dressed in a two-piece gown that flowed elegantly to the ground. The fitted bodice hugged her slender figure while the long, sweeping skirt trailed behind her, forcing her to lift it slightly as she walked to prevent it from dragging.

Linus allowed his gaze to linger on her for a moment longer than was proper, his eyes tracing the way the gown hugged her figure, revealing more than it concealed. The fabric clung to her as if envious of her curves, moving with her as though it were a living thing itself. For a fleeting moment, Linus was almost jealous of the dress draped so intimately around her.

Her movements were careful and deliberate, as though every step was rehearsed to maintain her composure.

But Linus, ever perceptive, noticed the subtle difference. Though her posture was straight, her smile gracious, something was off—something less assured about her. Without her husband by her side, her confidence in social circles seemed diminished, even though she was trying her best to mask it.

She was not born into nobility, and though she had adapted well to her new station, it was clear she still carried the weight of needing to prove herself in these refined settings. There was a formality that never quite reached true respect, as if her place among Thornfield’s elite had not been fully accepted.

What intrigued Linus even more was the absence of the mayor himself. This was the first major event since the recent murder, and the mayor’s presence should have been assured. Yet here she was, alone. The questions swirled in Linus’s mind. What could be so pressing that the mayor would miss an opportunity to show strength and unity?

The opening act began with a flourish of music and movement, drawing the audience into the story. Linus watched closely, not only the performance but also the reactions of those around him. He knew that amidst the drama and spectacle, subtle clues could be revealed and connections made.

His mind raced with possibilities. The presence of so many influential figures in one place provided a rare opportunity to observe interactions and gather insights. He noted the subtle glances, the whispered conversations, and the body language that spoke volumes about the relationships and tensions within Thornfield’s elite.

As the play progressed, Linus kept a watchful eye on the audience, his attention divided between the performance and the reactions of those around him. Halfway through the play, Linus’s attention was pulled away from the stage. Eliza, who had been focused on the performance, stiffened ever so slightly. A shadow moved beside her—a discreet messenger slipping a folded note into her hand.

He leaned forward slightly, his interest piqued. This was unusual. For someone like Eliza to receive a message during a public performance suggested urgency, and the mayor's absence only made the situation more curious.

Linus watched as she unfolded it in a single fluid motion, the tension in her shoulders betraying her otherwise calm demeanor. For a heartbeat, her expression flickered—surprise, maybe even alarm—before she masked it with the practiced grace of a seasoned player.

Eliza’s eyes swept the theater, flitting over nobles, guards, and shadowed corners, gauging their attention. Linus caught the moment she stilled, a flicker of calculation in her gaze. Satisfied she wasn’t being watched, she rose with a fluid, practiced elegance that almost masked her urgency.

Moving toward the exit, she wove through the crowd with deliberate grace, casting quick, darting glances at the guards and distracted guests. Linus’s pulse quickened as he tracked her progress—this wasn’t a casual departure but a carefully measured escape. He knew she was slipping away unnoticed, but the question gnawed at him: what had prompted her sudden flight?

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Linus's curiosity was piqued. What could have prompted such a reaction from the mayor’s wife, especially amid a public event? What was the mayor’s family entangled in now?

Deciding to follow her, Linus carefully slipped out of his seat, ensuring he did not draw any undue attention to himself. He moved swiftly and silently, keeping a safe distance as he trailed Eliza through the dimly lit corridors of the theater.

Eliza's movements were purposeful, her steps quickening as she headed towards a side exit. Linus kept his eyes on her, noting the tension in her posture. Linus kept his eyes fixed on her, noting how she glanced around, subtly ensuring she wasn’t being followed. Just before slipping outside, she took a final sweeping look over her shoulder. Linus ducked behind a pillar, his heart steady, his eyes sharp.

Once the door quietly clicked shut behind her, Linus moved swiftly to follow. He stepped into the cool night air just in time to catch sight of Eliza as she entered a narrow alleyway. Her figure was rigid, her head scanning as she continued down the alley. Linus pressed himself against the wall, briefly out of sight as she looked back again.

Linus followed, his mind racing with possibilities. What could be so urgent that it required her immediate attention? He knew that whatever it was, it had to be significant. Eliza was too poised and composed to be easily rattled.

His mind raced with possibilities. What could be so urgent that it required Eliza’s immediate attention? And why such secrecy? Whatever she was caught up in, it had to be something significant—something worth risking this kind of exposure.

As Linus rounded the corner, he saw Eliza halt, her eyes scanning the dark alley around her. She appeared to be waiting for someone, her movements now strained with an anxious urgency. Linus quickly found a concealed vantage point, a shadowed alcove where he could observe without being noticed. He crouched low, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the unfolding scene.

Moments later, a masked figure melted out of the shadows, gliding toward Eliza with a silence that sent a jolt of surprise through her. Linus saw the flicker of fear in her eyes—brief but telling—before she smoothed her expression, regaining her poise. The figure moved with a practiced, predatory grace, a master of unseen entrances.

Linus leaned in, straining to catch the murmur of their exchange. The wind stole most of the words, but he managed to pick out broken fragments—urgent, whispered phrases that hinted at danger. Eliza’s eyes darted around, her tension palpable even from a distance, as if the ground beneath her had suddenly shifted.

The pieces he did hear were troubling. Eliza's voice, though hushed, carried enough clarity for him to make out certain phrases—"tracking his movements" and "keeping an eye on his dealings." It became evident that Eliza had hired this shadowy figure to spy on someone or perhaps the mayor, her own husband.

But then, a name cut through the fragmented conversation—Sorenputhra. Linus’s pulse quickened at the mention of the allied country, his thoughts racing as he connected the dots. The mayor was entangled in something much larger than local politics. If Sorenputhra was involved, the stakes were exponentially higher than Linus had anticipated.

Recognizing the gravity of the situation, Linus silently invoked his shadow magic, his fingers tracing invisible lines in the air as dark energy pooled around him. A snake, crafted entirely of shadow, materialized in the darkness and slithered soundlessly across the cobblestones toward Eliza and her contact. It moved with an eerie fluidity, its form blending seamlessly with the night as it approached the two figures. Through his connection to the shadow creature, Linus sharpened his focus, extending his hearing to capture more of their words.

"...Sorenputhra won't be pleased if they find out..." the shadowy figure said, his voice low but now clear through the snake's connection.

Eliza’s response, though resolute, was edged with anxiety. "I don’t care. We need to know what he’s planning. If he’s in cahoots with Sorenputhra, it could jeopardize everything."

Could the two people the mayor was meeting with be spies from Sorenputhra? Linus thought, the realization hitting him like a sudden gust of wind. Sorenputhra had clearly invested heavily in these dealings—possibly searching for an object or information that held tremendous value. Their willingness to send spies and disrupt an ally’s political structure signaled their desperation.

And now, Eliza, knowingly or not, was entangled in the thick of it.

The urgency in her voice confirmed what Linus suspected: she didn’t fully grasp the scale of the danger. But Linus did. He realized that this conspiracy could turn Thornfield into a battleground for power, one where alliances could shift overnight.