They dragged Lex through the camp like a trophy. His feet barely touched the ground as two hunters carried him by the armpits, their grip iron-tight. The slap-happy man from before walked alongside, grinning like a kid on his birthday."Got him! The ghost is just a stupid commoner!"The camp had transformed since last night. Tents multiplied like mushrooms after rain. At least twenty hunters milled about, real professionals with weathered gear and dead eyes. Cassian hadn't been joking about backup. He'd called in everyone.They tied Lex to a massive tree at the center of camp, wrapping thick rope around his chest and arms until he couldn't move. Then the fun began.The slapped man stepped forward, taking his time. He looked at Lex with the satisfied expression of someone about to collect a long-overdue debt."Remember me?" he asked.Lex sighed. "Vaguely. You're the guy whose face I improved with my hand, right?"The man's grin tightened. He raised his hand and slapped Lex—slowly, soft

The three of them huddled in the corner of the cell, away from the mumbling prisoners, their voices barely above whispers. Lysandra's eyes darted between Lex and Dorian, her fear barely contained."Okay," she breathed. "Tell me the plan. The actual plan, not the 'trust me' version."Lex kept his voice low and steady. "You create a distraction upstairs. Something big. Something that pulls everyone's attention—your Father, Cassian, the guards, everyone."Lysandra nodded slowly. "I... I think I can do that. I have an idea on what makes them come running.""While you're doing that, Dorian and I will empty this cell. One by one, we carry them out. We will use cloth to muffle their mouths—can't have them mumbling while we're sneaking."Dorian glanced at the prisoners, his expression doubtful. "There's twelve of them. Some can't even walk. How are we supposed to—""Piggyback," Lex interrupted. "We carry them. One trip each. Six trips total.""Six trips past guards and mages and who knows wha

The last thing Lex did before leaving the old cabin was summon his bow.The elven weapon materialized in his hands, warm and humming with power. He nocked a fire arrow and aimed at the far corner of the wooden structure. The arrow flew true, embedding itself in the dry timber. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the fire caught—slowly at first, then with hungry determination.He fired again. Another corner. Another ignition.Four arrows total. Four corners burning.Before the first guard noticed, Lex was gone, melting into the darkness of the far bushes. From his hidden spot, he had a perfect view of the chaos about to unfold.The fire spread quickly, devouring the old wood. Smoke rose in thick black columns against the night sky. A guard on patrol spotted it first, his shout cutting through the quiet."FIRE! THE STOREHOUSE IS ON FIRE!"Guards converged from all directions, running toward the blazing cabin. Two of them reached the entrance first and found their unconscious comrade

The flames crackled behind him, casting long shadows across the ruined grounds. Lex stood motionless, his blackened form slowly becoming visible as the last seconds of invisibility faded. First his outline, then his features, then the full picture—a man covered in ash, holding no weapon, showing no emotion.Marius Cane stared at him. Behind the patriarch, Cassian trembled with a mixture of rage and terror. The remaining fighters—five of them, huddled together like frightened children—made no move to attack. They had seen too much. Invisible assassins. Weapons that shattered on contact. Comrades dropping without warning.No one moved.Lex reached into his shirt and pulled out the scroll. He unrolled it slowly, deliberately, letting the firelight illuminate the elegant script. He held it up for everyone to see, for Marius, for Cassian, for the broken guards and hunters who still had working eyes."Lord Marius Cane," Lex read aloud, his voice calm and steady. "Your recent financial diffi

Ironstead had never seen so many well-behaved people in its entire existence.The town's usual chaos—drunken hunters stumbling out of taverns at noon, merchants shouting lies about their prices, children throwing mud at anything that moved—had vanished overnight. Even the roughest, meanest thugs had suddenly discovered manners. They smiled at strangers. They held doors open for women carrying baskets. They didn't even spit on the sidewalk.Because royal knights didn't visit Ironstead. Ever. And now four of them were sitting in Borin's inn eating breakfast like normal people.Lex had spent the morning doing something he rarely did: nothing. He bathed. He put on clean clothes. He sat at his usual table and ate his usual breakfast while the knights talked quietly among themselves and the townsfolk peeked through the windows to get a look at real, actual knights in their shiny armor.It was almost peaceful.Then the murmurs started.They came from outside, a low buzz of voices that grew l