Beyond the tree line at the town's edge, two Zoner soldiers crawled through the underbrush, their bodies smeared with mud and sweat. They paused just before the clearing, peering at the peaceful town below.
"We're here," hissed one of them. "Now we just have to find their leader, Levin, and kill him."
His companion gave a silent nod. Both men crept forward, blades drawn, hearts pounding. They had rehearsed this mission a hundred times in whispers. If they killed Levin, they could slow the Artimancer war machine, maybe even save lives.
But fate had already sealed their end.
The first soldier stepped into the clearing... and his boot landed on a faint trigram etched into the soil.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the ground beneath them glowed with violent light.
"What is—"
The sentence never finished. From the glowing sigil, massive grave hands erupted upward, their bony fingers closing around the two men with impossible speed. They screamed as the grip tightened, bones snapping, armor crushing. In seconds, the forest floor was painted red. When the seal faded, the hands collapsed into dust, and the broken bodies of the two assassins fell lifeless to the dirt.
The town remained silent. The children kept playing. No one noticed death had come and gone just beyond the trees.
Inside the Dawn House, the air was still and clean. Maps littered a long table, supply lines, sigil grids, red twine.
Levin sat at the head, iron-straight, shadows gathering at his temples.
Levin "How is your prostetic arm holding up?"
Pita "This stemcell arm is perfect, I must say being connected to royals comes with its perks."
Pita faced him, a quiet whirr coming from the mechanical arm bolted where flesh once lived. Between them, a man stood with ink-stained fingers and a clerk's posture, eyes like pins behind a mild smile.
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"Dace," Levin said, voice even, "In light of our friend Asteroy's passing, I'm placing town security under your control. You'll take his seat."
Dace dipped his head in a modest bow. "A city without snares is a banquet for wolves, my lord. I'll salt the paths."
DACE
Levin continued, "Your seals keep our borders invisible. The war with the Animal Tribes is underway, the Selection accelerating. Our safety depends on fidelity to the royal family. We remain practical, and we remain protected."
Levin gestures to Pita to speak
Pita cleared his throat. "Orders from Venku arrived. We're to support the Selection but our main focus is to execute the Zoner Knights, this will assure us a clear pathway to royal citizenship."
Levin's gaze didn't waver. "I'll lead that detachment myself. You'll come, Pita. We'll take only the strongest."
Dace's lips thinned, almost a smile. "Bait walks best when it believes itself the hunter."
Pita glanced at him, then back to Levin. "What if the knights are as strong as Jett... last time you were forced to use Grand Macer Terra One."
Levin's eyes cooled. "If the field demands it, I'll climb to Terra Two. I won't be tested the same way twice."
A quiet hum filled the room. Ink dried on maps.
"Ladybug," Pita said carefully. "There are whispers she's building a revenge cell."
Levin exhaled. "Grief breeds theater in women. She's unstable."
Dace folded his hands. "A trap with live bait often catches the wrong animal. It still closes."
"What do we do?" Pita asked.
"For now, nothing," Levin said. He turned to Dace. "But there is a favor."
Dace's gaze lifted, patient, unblinking. "Name the quarry."
"My son, I want you to bring him here by force if you have to."
Silence struck the table like a hammer.
Pita flinched. "Levin... doing that could scare the boy."
Levin's jaw worked once. "He's drifting toward his mother. Reason will fail. Practicality won't. If we delay, he could be pulled into the Selection by mistake or perhaps the Knights or other soldiers may use him as a negotiation piece. I won't let that happen."
Dace considered, then nodded slowly. "Family is the cleverest prey. It walks willingly into any house that looks like home." The corner of his mouth twitched. "I'll weave a net thin enough to feel like air."
"You may bring an Artimancer of your choosing," Levin said.
"A silent spring snatches the paw," Dace murmured. "I have a name in mind."
Levin rose. "Good. Prepare the town. We march at dawn."
Outside, the town continued its quiet rhythm. But even as children laughed and played, Artimancer soldiers were at work. Two of them knelt near the perimeter of the settlement, carving trigram seals into the earth with precision and care. Each sigil pulsed faintly once complete, sinking invisibly beneath the soil.
"Anyone tries to sneak in again," one soldier muttered, brushing the dust from his hands, "and the seals will wake."
"They won't make it five steps," the other replied, sealing the last of the runes.
To be continued...