The room, cloaked in shadows and the muted, warm glow of dim lantern light, served as a silent witness to the aftermath of their encounter. Linus’s eyes lingered on Amy, her figure trembling as she knelt before him. Her hair, wild and tangled, clung to her damp skin, while her flushed cheeks and swollen lips told a story of passion’s aftermath. He stepped toward her, his boots pressing softly against the wooden floor. Each step felt like a struggle to close the distance while resisting the magnetic pull to dive back into her embrace. His hand found her shoulder, warm and trembling under his touch. “Are you alright?” he murmured, his voice low and laced with tenderness.

Amy looked up at him, her eyes wide and still glistening with the remnants of their shared passion. She nodded her voice barely a whisper. "Yes, my Lord. I'm fine."

Linus helped her to her feet, his touch gentle yet firm. "Rest now," he said softly. "I'll see you again tomorrow."

Amy felt a plea rise within her, a longing to ask him to stay a few more hours until the sunlight appeared. Yet, as the words teetered on the brink of utterance, she held them back, choosing to communicate her agreement with a simple nod instead. She watched as he gathered his clothes, his movements fluid and deliberate, each gesture exuding an air of authority and grace.

Linus dressed quickly, his mind shifting to the tasks that awaited him. As he finished, he leaned in and placed a final, lingering kiss on Amy's forehead. "Goodnight, Amy," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

"Goodnight, My Lord," she replied with gratitude and longing.

Linus straightened up, casting one last look at her peaceful form before quietly slipping out of the room. He moved through the dimly lit corridor, the inn's quietness wrapping around him like a cloak. As he reached the end of the hall, he paused, listening intently for any signs of life. Satisfied that no one was nearby, he called upon his shadow magic, enveloping himself in darkness.

His form seemed to dissolve into the shadows, becoming one with the dim light and the quiet corridors of the inn. The transformation was seamless, rendering him nearly invisible to the untrained eye. With practiced ease, he moved through the building, each step soundless, each movement calculated.

As Linus approached the floor where the spies had been staying, he noticed the door to the room was slightly ajar. The hallway was dimly lit, with only a few flickering lanterns casting long, eerie patterns. Linus scanned the area, noting that the opposite room's door was closed but not completely shut. A thin sliver of light escaped from the crack, indicating someone inside was keeping a vigilant watch.

Linus took a deep breath, focusing on his surroundings. He knew he had to be cautious; any misstep could alert the watcher and compromise his mission. Silently, he pressed himself against the wall, merging with the darkness, and inched closer to the door of the spies' room. His heart pounded, but his movements remained fluid and controlled.

Reaching the door, Linus paused. He needed to create a diversion.

Linus moved back to a small window near the corridor, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the scene. He needed a better look at the guard watching from the partially open door across the hall. With a subtle flick of his wrist, he summoned a shadow bird, sending it flitting silently toward the room. The bird melded into the night, its form barely distinguishable as it hovered just outside the guard’s line of sight.

The bird's dark eyes observed the guard, who sat rigidly, his gaze fixed out the window, a tense frown on his face. Just then, an owl hooted somewhere outside, the sound echoing through the quiet night. Linus saw the guard flinch, a flicker of fear crossing his face. It was brief but enough for Linus to realize the man was already on edge. He could use that.

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Linus waited, his breath steady until the owl hooted again. This time, he wove a small, creeping shadow snake that slithered under the door, slipping quietly into the guard’s room. The shadow slithered along the floor, undetectable, and slinked behind the guard, who remained unaware. As the owl’s call echoed again, Linus commanded the shadow to nudge the lamp's base, causing it to tremble slightly. The guard’s eyes darted to the lamp, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Linus repeated the action, making the lamp wobble a little more forcefully. The guard's fear was palpable now; he glanced nervously over his shoulder, eyes scanning the room for an explanation. The lamp shuddered again, the faint sound breaking the uneasy silence. The guard flinched, his chair scraping against the floor as he jolted upright. “What in the hell...” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand hovered over the hilt of his blade, and he took a hesitant step toward the flickering lamp. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow, catching the weak light. He glanced over his shoulder, the darkness seeming to stretch toward him, and swallowed hard. Each step was slow, willful, as though the lamp might spring to life if he moved too quickly.

When the guard stepped away from his post, Linus seized the opportunity. He slipped through the ajar door and entered the spies' room without a sound. The room was dark, and the air was thick with the lingering scent of chemicals, reminding Linus of the vials he had seen the spies carrying.

He allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness, carefully surveying the room. Papers were strewn haphazardly across the floor, and some crumpled as if they had been read and discarded in haste. A small travel trunk sat open in the corner, its contents spilling out—a mix of clothing, maps, and small, mysterious vials.

Linus crept forward, his footsteps soundless on the creaky floorboards, when his sharp eyes flicked over the scattered papers. He crouched, reaching for a crumpled note with deliberate care. The hastily scrawled letters seemed to dance on the page, written in an unfamiliar, jagged script. His brow furrowed as he turned the note over, his breath hitching when he caught sight of a map pinned beneath a discarded shirt. Circles marked familiar territories near Thornfield, but others pointed to uncharted lands, their mystery gnawing at his curiosity.

His gaze shifted to the trunk, where various items lay in disarray. He crouched down, his fingers deftly sorting through the contents. Among the clothes, he found a small, leather-bound journal, its pages filled with cramped, hurried handwriting. Flipping through it, Linus caught snippets of what looked like coded messages—names, locations, and phrases.

Alongside the coins was a tiny, folded piece of parchment, and when he unfolded it, he found a detailed drawing of the Phoenix Blade. His pulse quickened. Even though the sketch was rudimentary, it matched the descriptions he had heard—an ancient weapon of immense power, rumored to grant its wielder unimaginable strength.

His eyes fell on a small, intricately carved box hidden beneath the bed. He retrieved it, noting the weight and the delicate craftsmanship.

Opening the box, Linus found several sealed vials of an unknown liquid.

Linus was about to dig deeper when a faint creak echoed through the room. He froze, his eyes darting to the door. The guard had returned, peering into the room with a puzzled expression, still spooked by the strange movement of the lamp.

Linus pressed deeper into the corner, the shadows wrapping around him like a second skin. His breath slowed, every exhale careful and muted. The door creaked open, the guard’s silhouette looming in the faint lantern glow. Linus’s pulse thundered in his ears as the man stepped forward, his boots scuffing the floor. The guard’s eyes darted around the room, narrowing as he scanned the darkness. Linus dared not move, the tension coiling tighter with each passing second. Finally, the guard grunted, muttering, “Nothing here,” as he turned back and eased the door shut with a click.

Linus remained still, his muscles taut, until the last echo of the guard’s footsteps faded into silence. Only then did he exhale, the breath leaving him in a controlled release. Shadows shifted around him, a silent, watchful cocoon as he prepared for his next move.

And then, from somewhere deeper in the inn, came the sound of a door creaking open.