The hunt did not end with the Accountant.Moon’s bells had barely finished tolling the close of the festival when the next phase began, quiet, precise, and without celebration. The remnants of the replacement system scattered like startled vermin, each believing themselves small enough to escape notice.They were wrong.Arrow was assigned to Snake and Dragon without ceremony. Moon simply said, “You will need someone who understands both wounds and silence,” and Arrow inclined his head as though it were inevitable.Support missions were rarely spoken of, but they were the bloodless spine of any successful purge, tracking messengers, intercepting coded payments, and severing healers who kept criminals alive long enough to flee. Arrow excelled at it with a frightening calm.He could mend a shattered lung in minutes.He could also end a life without spilling a drop.Marvel noticed everything.She noticed how Arrow never sat with his back to an open space. How he counted breaths when tensi

Drown Liroid arrived without ceremony, as she always did, light on her feet, laughter already in her eyes, as though the world had never learned how to wound her.She swept Arrow into a crushing embrace before he could react, ruffling his hair like he was still a boy running through academy halls with bloodied knees.“There you are,” she said brightly. “I was beginning to think you’d finally decided to die without telling me.”Arrow sighed. “You exaggerate.”“I do not,” Drown replied cheerfully. Then she turned, her sharp gaze landing on Marvel. She studied her for half a breath before breaking into a grin. “Ah. So that’s it.”Marvel blinked. “That’s… what?”Drown looped an arm around Arrow’s shoulders. “Now I know why you’ve been avoiding my letters. Father’s been asking questions.”Arrow stiffened instantly. The warmth drained from him as though someone had pulled a cord.“I’ll see him,” he said, voice flat.Dragon and Snake stepped forward when Feature Liroid appeared, a towering p

Dinner had been meant to unfold like a gentle walk, with slow steps and soft words, easing old tensions.Farrow had other plans.Feature sat straight-backed at the table, stern as ever, but even Snake could see the tightness in his jaw, the way his fingers curled slightly against the wood. Farrow did not raise her voice at first. She did not need to.Then she decided that shouting would make him bend.It did, because there was one thing Feature despised above all else: causing his wife pain, especially with his own hands.She stood, palms flat on the table, eyes blazing.“Arrow is not Scar,” she said, each word struck like a blade. “Arrow is Arrow.”Silence swallowed the room.“My poor little boy,” she continued, voice shaking now, “forced to endure the weight of your expectations when he is more like me than you. He has tried to breathe around you, Feature…but your air is fire.”Arrow’s head dipped lower, his shoulders folding inward without him even realizing it.“Let him go,” Farro

Snake escorted Farrow through the quiet eastern quarter where the Healers’ Guild kept its branch, arched stone washed pale by moonlight, the air heavy with herbs and sap. Farrow carried the satchel herself, as though the flower within were a child she refused to entrust to another.Crimson Liroid met them at the doors.She was exactly as Snake remembered, sharp-eyed, red-haired, temper barely leashed. She did not bow, merely crossed her arms and scowled. “Void is becoming unbearable,” she snapped by way of greeting. “Too strict. Too careful. She should have sent Frost to Dark instead of leaving her alone with Slice. Madness.”Snake laughed softly, the sound surprising even himself. “Frost belongs to the Isle,” he said easily. “And he despises being tossed about like a pawn. As for Void, she is a great leader and a powerful healer. I suspect she knew my sister would never bend to Frost’s commands.”Farrow smiled knowingly. “Everyone knows how headstrong Dark is. She complains endlessly

The morning came quietly, as though the world itself knew better than to rush them.Mist still clung to the edges of the estate when Snake stepped into the courtyard, fastening the last clasp of his traveling armor. The metal was dark and worn, etched faintly with old Liroid sigils: protection, restraint, balance. He had worn it for centuries, yet every time he prepared for a mission, it felt heavier, as though memory itself had weight.Dragon was already there, leaning against a pillar with a cup of root wine in hand, far too relaxed for someone about to ride back into blood and shadow.“You look like you’re attending your own funeral,” Dragon said, eyeing him over the rim. “Smile a little. Cellok has missed us.”Snake snorted softly. “Cellok only ever misses the mess we leave behind.”Dragon grinned. “Exactly.”Behind them, the estate stirred awake. Servants crossed the courtyard with bundles and baskets, murmuring farewells. Drown was already gone; she had left before dawn, unable