They dropped like flies. One after the other without fail, each with that characteristic twitch in the hand.

A large man plopped down into the seat next to me, a cigar hanging out of his mouth and a sneer on his lips. There were matching scars on his wrists like bracelets, inked black.

"Hey, kid. How's the bettin' going?" He planted his clenched fist on the table. I peered at him from beneath the dark cloth.

He'd been one of the men at the bar the other day when I'd made my announcement. He must have remembered and decided to approach me for a good laugh. I slid the paper across the table with all my bets on it. He glanced it over.

"What the hell?!" He shouted, finger tracing the page as he double-checked what he saw. The shout drew attention.

"Stop makin' a racket-" Another man approached, but his tune changed upon a cursory look at the paper. "Well, I'll be damned." He murmured, shaking his head.

Seeing the growing racket, people approached, realizing someone won big. My wealth was stacking by the minute. A roar from the crowd signified another round had ended, and that my winning streak had yet to break.

"There's no way." One woman doubted, whispering about me to another drunkard beside her. "Do they even...have that much to give?"

Great question. I wondered the same myself, watching the body get dragged off and replaced by a fresh fighter. The announcer performed with all the same bells and whistles as before, but his stress was apparent. Sweat stains and a peaked face, the way he chewed at his lip as fighters lost without struggle. This wasn't the plan, and he knew it. A frenzied audience, thirsty for the next fight remained oblivious to another growing chaos around them. The booth runners, the announcers, and several other shady fellows in dark clothes emerged from the woodwork. Some poured over files while the others spoke in hurried whispers.

They all embodied one singular feeling: panic.

Screeches and shouts from the crowd ensued. The last round was beginning. Two fighters came out and I recognized my competitor. With a grunt, he pulled out a domineering chain weapon that ended in a metal ball covered in bloodied, wooden thorns. He spun it around above his head, letting out a wet, spittle-ridden roar. It seems drugs wouldn't have mattered for this one. His drugged competitor looked ready to wet himself, Hecklebens or not.

The ball and chain swung out, colliding without resistance into the shoulder of the terrified opponent. There had been time to react, but his mind and body weren't in connection thanks to a certain plant. A look of boredom crossed the weapon wielder's face as his opponent fell backward onto the dust. He yanked the chain to return, and it dislodged from the flesh of the loser with a sickening squish. Blood pooled on the stained earth. The crowd jeered and shouted. Some tossed back drinks in celebration, while others chugged knowing it would be the last they could afford for some time.

The fight was over.

The plan had been an absolute success. I'd learned a lot of useful things, but now wasn't the time to unpack it all. The fighting ring was clear, but the next battle had only just begun. As people shouted, crowding around me in a mix of rage, jealousy, and awe, I kept my eye on the prize. The same sweaty man from before pointed up at me, directing two tall men, each with broad, strong shoulders and armed with batons.

Beating me up and tossing me in an alley wasn't an option. Not with the eager participants around me, looking forward to seeing my reward.

'What will you do?'

The men trudged up the stairs and planted themselves before me. One stepped forward, parting the crowd around me. The people went quiet.

"You are Raven." The man stated, and I played along.

"That would be me," I grinned and slid him the ballot. "Here to distribute my winnings? Quite the pretty penny."

He didn't react. "I am here to direct you to the director's estate. He has already been made aware of your arrival, and would like to offer your winnings and congratulate you in person."

'A secondary location is a reasonable tactic.'

"When you are ready, please meet me by the arena to prepare for departure."

Was he one of the 'directors' people? It was hard to say. He came off neutral like he just followed orders and never asked questions, with the same displeasure of a common grunt you could find anywhere. On the other hand, his speech, manners, and well-dressed appearance suggested wealth and training.

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'Only one way to find out.'

"No need. I am ready to go right now." I stood up from my seat and gestured to the guard. "Please, lead the way."

***

They stuffed me in a rickety carriage, with that same lone guard as a driver. The light had long since faded, and night would soon reach her darkest. I'd need my other eye soon, but not yet. Not until I was sure.

The chances I would be taken to this 'director' were second to none, but a girl could keep her hopes up. In all likelihood, this carriage was headed to the edge of the woods, far out of the city, to drop me off to meet a group of deadly 'congratulators.'

There I would be silenced and disposed of, my only reward, and any curious guests at the fighting ring would be told a lie about my disappearance.

My plan? Figure out who was behind it all. When people want someone dead, they don't go through several middlemen and risk failing or word getting out. No, they stay as close to the operation as possible without getting their hands dirty. They hire killers themselves. If I could find an assassin willing to talk, I'm sure the true identity of the ship's captain would be revealed. That is if they were planning to kill me. Maybe I would get lucky and this director fellow would just hand me a sack of gold, and offer to free all the beast people as a treat.

I expanded the range of my magic, closing my eyes as I switched off my physical senses for that far more potent sensation. They immediately shot open, and I nearly tore the bandage across my eye as I ripped it off. Bloodlust. The carriage came to a stop. My magic scattered; one person? No, two, not including the carriage driver. Armed? Most certainly, though I didn't need magic to tell me that. The driver's silence only solidified the danger.

"Are we there?" I called out to him, buying myself a moment.

There wasn't much time to prepare, and no time to pick through these people's hearts. I took the bandage in my hands and wrapped it around my mouth instead, like a mask. Then, from within my bag, I felt the familiar cool touch of a glass vial. Heckleben's Right Eye hadn't been the only poison I prepared back in Yiriel's lab.

A 3:2:1 ratio of thornapple seeds, black lotus petals, and a touch of hemlock essence could be ground up into a fine powder. When passed through a naso-oral route, the quick-acting poison lives up to its name as 'Betrayer's Rest.' It causes intense confusion, hallucinations, and eventually a sleep-like state that can last for several days if the black lotus concentration is high enough. It isn't something you will find written in the books, but having used this in the field more than once, Betrayer's Rest gets its name because of its unique effect on those prepared for or amid battle. More often than not, the cognitive changes cause those primed with bloodlust to fight anything they see; including one another.

I uncork the bottle, and pour some into my hands, clenching a fist around it.

"We have arrived, sir." The driver's voice came muffled from the carriage front, poorly concealing a hint of humor at the fate that would befall me.

"Would you get the door?" I called out in my haughtiest tone, "I am about to be richer than most nobility; show some respect."

"Oh!" He replied, and I could practically hear his sneer, "Of course, of course, 'young lord,' I will be there in a moment."

I heard the sound of footsteps, but thanks to my fantastic hearing I could tell that they stopped just after hitting the grass. The driver made no further move to approach the door, but it opened anyway. An unfamiliar, dark pair of boots stood motionless behind the door, waiting for me to step outside. I didn't sense any weapons trained on me, which wasn't surprising; these people didn't see me as a threat. It was likely the moment I got out of the vehicle the person holding the door would make a quick, clean slice at my neck and avoid getting any blood in the carriage.

Unfortunately for them, there is a reason I had a mask on; Betrayer's rest spreads fast through the air, and it doesn't take much. I leaned forward towards the exit, and opened my palm, blowing half the dust coating it directly towards the stranger so kindly holding the door open for me.

One beat. I waited.

Two beats. A cough. I sensed confusion.

Three beats.

The dark boots lunged out from behind the door, a ragged cloak whipping behind them, their rusty dagger aimed directly towards the target. Not me, though. The first thing in their line of sight was the driver still standing smug by the driver's seat. There wasn't even enough time for a scream, just the sound of flesh splitting and the gurgle of death as the driver collapsed. A yell came from the treetops. My gaze snapped towards it, seeing clearly in the dark another hooded figure leaping down from a branch.

"What are you doing? Have you lost your-" Words cut off as blades clashed in the tall, wild grass, the confused assassin barely raising his dagger in time to block the swipe of the other. Not bad. They seemed equal matches, but that wouldn't be the case for long. "Marcus!" He cried, "Listen to me!"

Now that I had the time, I reached out to the unsteady heart of the hired killer. His mind raced with uncertainty as he fought his crazed companion, desperate fears of death mixing with hesitance to hurt someone he cared for. So they were friends.

'No matter.'

I ran my fingers over the strings of magic between us two, utilizing the rampaging orchestra in his mind to easily cause more confusion. Like the loud beat of a drum I sent a shock through him, and for good measure tightened the mud around his shoes, altogether causing him to stumble backward.

The trained man he was, it didn't keep him defenseless for long, but it was just long enough. The moment his stance broke a blade plunged through the opening, and into the cavity of his heart. Another gasp, gurgle, and gentle collapse of a lifeless body to the ground. I turned my focus to the man still drugged on Betrayers. He took a ragged breath, looked around, and then fell face-first into the dirt.

I sighed. 'So much for just getting the reward peacefully.'

A smile crossed my lips, pressed up against the bandages. Betrayers could still be in the air, so it was better to play it safe.

'Now, how to prepare for when he wakes up?'

My smile slipped to a frown, not looking forward to dragging and tying up a grown man three times my size.