"You've both completely lost what little sanity the slums left you," Kael muttered, pressing his palm hard against his bleeding forearm to stem the flow of crimson."Sanity is a luxury for people who aren't currently hunted by half the city," Silas shot back, his eyes fixed on the looming iron gates ahead."There's a difference between lacking luxury and walking directly into a slaughterhouse," Kael hissed, halting in the shadow of a steam-vent."We aren't walking in to be slaughtered," Seraphelion said, his voice terrifyingly calm as the blue light beneath his coat pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. "We're walking in to take back what was stolen from the district.""And the guards?" Kael challenged, waving his blood-stained hand toward the heavily fortified perimeter of the counting house. "How do we bypass them?""We don't," Silas said, drawing his shortsword with a metallic scrape that vanished beneath the hiss of venting steam. "We make them let us through.""By asking politely?

"Read it yourself, Kael," Silas said, thrusting the decrypted parchment directly into the rogue's trembling hands."The signature at the bottom isn't Vane's," Kael muttered, his eyes darting frantically across the ink-stained lines while holding his bleeding arm. "It's Dean Malakor. The entire merchant council is just a front for the Academy's black-budget experiments.""Which means Vane is nothing more than a glorified errand boy taking orders from ivory towers," Seraphelion stated, his voice dropping an octave as the blue light beneath his coat flared with sudden, fierce intensity."An errand boy with an army of private mercenaries and a heavily guarded perimeter," Kael reminded them, dropping the manifest onto the polished mahogany desk in disgust."Who are currently stationed on the lower levels, completely unaware that we bypassed their primary checkpoint," Silas pointed out, tapping the pommel of his shortsword with a rhythmic, impatient beat."That changes nothing about our obj

Silas tested the iron handle of the reinforced double doors, his knuckles whitening against the dark leather of his gloves.The heavy wood groaned as the locking mechanism inside shifted with a dull, echoing metallic thud."They aren't locked from the outside," Silas murmured, keeping his eyes fixed on the shadowed corridor beyond the threshold. "Someone left the inner bolt unfastened.""Or someone is waiting for us to walk right into their trap," Seraphelion countered, his hand resting flat against the front of his coat where the Stabilizer pulsed with a rhythmic, blinding blue light.The blue luminescence cast sharp, erratic shadows across the opulent red wallpaper, making the gilded picture frames look like staring eyes."Either way, we go through," Silas said, pushing the heavy door wide open before either of his companions could argue.The vaulted antechamber beyond smelled sharply of wet wool, dried gunpowder, and expensive pomade.A single brass lamp flickered on a central maho

"It’s not locked," Seraphelion whispered, his fingers trembling as the heavy iron door slowly swung inward with a prolonged, metallic groan. "The mechanism has been disabled from the inside.""That doesn't make me feel any better," Kael muttered, ducking under the lintel with his bow drawn and an arrow nocked tight. "In fact, that makes me feel distinctly like a pig walking into an automated slaughterhouse.""Shut up, Kael, and watch the blind corner," Silas commanded, stepping past them both into the dimly lit communications hub.Rows of brass-tubed acoustic receivers lined the stone walls, hissing softly as they transmitted intercepted messages from across the city.At the center of the chamber stood a massive mahogany desk littered with cipher wheels, half-burned documents, and a single sputtering oil lamp.Seated comfortably behind the desk, casually spinning a silver coin between his knuckles, was Vane."I was wondering when you three amateurs would finally figure out the passcod

"There is nothing to negotiate," Seraphelion said, stepping forward past Silas and Kael with the Stabilizer glowing fiercely beneath his torn coat."Oh, commander, there is always a price to be paid," Vane purred, his smile never reaching his cold, calculating eyes. "You think you're heroes freeing the city, but you're just pulling the plug on a life support machine.""You're selling Academy secrets to foreign syndicates," Silas snarled, his grip on his shortsword tightening until his knuckles turned completely white. "We saw the ledgers, Vane. Your game is over.""My game is the only thing keeping the lights on in this miserable industrial sinkhole," Vane retorted, standing up slowly from his mahogany desk. "Kill me, and the entire lower district plunges into permanent darkness within thirty seconds.""Let it go dark," Seraphelion whispered, his voice dangerously low as he pulled the humming, bio-mechanical core from his coat. "Let the gears stop grinding.""You don't understand the