The Gotham Inheritance

Chapter Five – Into the Veil of Night

The Gotham mansion loomed behind him like a gilded cage, its windows blazing with candlelight against the night sky. Ray didn’t look back. He couldn’t.

His footsteps echoed down the long driveway, each step pressing deeper into the wet gravel, as though the earth itself wanted to hold him back.

In his pocket, the ring pulsed with faint warmth, and though he told himself it was only his imagination, some part of him felt it was alive, watching, waiting.

The city stretched before him: shadows, alleys, the smell of smoke and damp stone. The night was restless, full of murmurs. Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled, each chime folding into the silence like a warning. Ray drew his coat tighter.

Don’t trust those closest to you. His mother’s words refused to leave him. He thought of Maria’s tear-streaked face, her trembling voice pleading for him to stop.

Could he trust her? Or was she just another thread woven into Mrs. Gotham’s web? The thought cut deep. He shook his head, forcing it away.

Tonight, there was no room for hesitation. He followed the only clue he had, the faint engraving inside the ring. At first glance, it was nothing but a smooth band of gold.

But in the right light, under the flicker of a streetlamp, he had seen it: three lines intersecting at an angle, forming a sigil. His mother’s handwriting echoed in his mind. Find the Guardian.

The sigil had to mean something. And he knew exactly where to begin. The Old Quarter.

It was a place his mother had once warned him never to wander after dark, a district where forgotten booksellers, apothecaries, and relic traders thrived. If there was a meaning behind the sigil, someone there would know.

He turned down a narrow lane, shadows pressing in like walls. His footsteps quickened. That was when he felt it. Eyes. Watching him.

Ray slowed. Listened. The scrape of a shoe against cobblestone echoed faintly behind him. He turned sharply, but the lane was empty. Just shadows, the glisten of rainwater, the hollow silence of night.

He moved on, faster this time. The footsteps followed. Ray’s hand closed around the ring in his pocket. His heart hammered.

The Gotham mansion’s humiliation, his mother-in-law’s scorn, the intruder’s blade, all of it seemed distant now. This was something new. Something unseen.

He turned into a side alley, narrow enough that the walls almost brushed his shoulders. The footsteps quickened. Then-silence.

Ray pressed his back to the wall, every muscle tense. Slowly, he reached into his pocket, slipping the ring onto his finger.

“Careful,” a voice whispered.

Ray spun. A figure stood at the mouth of the alley, half-hidden in the shadows. Cloaked, hood drawn low, the faint glow of a cigarette tip the only sign of life.

“Who are you?” Ray demanded, his voice low but sharp.

The figure didn’t answer. They exhaled smoke, slow, deliberate. Then: “You wear her blood.”

Ray froze. His chest tightened. “What did you just say?”

The figure stepped forward, just enough for the streetlamp’s glow to catch a scarred jawline. “Your mother. She passed it down. That ring is more than a trinket. It’s a key. And keys… open doors best left shut.”

Ray’s pulse pounded. “Then tell me about the Guardian.”

The figure laughed softly, a dry, hollow sound. “The Guardian is not something you find. The Guardian finds you. And when it does, boy, pray you’re strong enough to bear its weight.”

Ray’s fists clenched. “My mother died for this. I won’t stop until I know why.”

The figure tilted their head, studying him in silence. Then, slowly, they raised a gloved hand and traced a finger across the air, the exact sigil engraved inside the ring.

Ray’s breath caught. “You know it.”

The figure’s smile was thin, cruel. “Everyone in the Old Quarter knows it. But knowing isn’t the same as surviving it.”

Before Ray could step closer, the figure dropped the cigarette, crushed it under their boot, and melted back into the shadows. Ray lunged forward, but the alley was empty.

Only the faint smell of smoke lingered. His heart thundered in his chest. He looked down at the ring, its gold surface catching the pale moonlight.

A key. A door. A Guardian that wasn’t found but found him. And if the Guardian was watching already, then his life wasn’t just changing, it was unraveling.

He turned back toward the city, deeper into the Old Quarter, his steps echoing with grim determination. Somewhere out there, the truth waited. Somewhere out there, the Guardian was already stirring.

And if he didn’t uncover it soon, he knew, deep in his bones, that the Gotham mansion, Maria, even his own fragile grip on sanity would all be swallowed whole.