Mistmoor Town:

  The sky was a bruise that refused to heal.

  Deep, suffocating indigo bled into a fog.

  Liora stepped from the restaurant.

  The heavy scent of grease clung to her skin like a second layer of grime.

  She had just finished a full meal, her appetite undisturbed by the man she’d butchered earlier.

  To her, the kill wasn't a tragedy-it was a chore. A dirty dish moved from the table to the sink.

  She moved through the haze, her black cloak cinched tight.

  The air hit her lungs like a draft from a tomb.

  Buildings shifted in the mist, their silhouettes bleeding into one another like ghosts.

  She stopped before a structure that looked like a dozen others.

  A weathered sign hung high: MISTMOOR REPAIR.

  Inside, the door’s jingle sounded sharp, intrusive.

  Frank, her broker, was hunched over the counter with a customer.

  Liora didn't spare them a glance.

  She drifted through the aisles, her fingers trailing over rusted gears and broken lanterns.

  She was a shadow waiting for the field to be clear.

  Once the customer vanished into the fog, Liora let the mask slip.

  She threw her cloak over a chair and sat.

  The silence stretched tight.

  Frank stood behind the counter, staring, waiting for a greeting that never came.

  "How was business today?" she asked finally.

  "Holding on," Frank’s voice was a dry rasp. He ducked toward the back. "Nothing new... at least, not yet."

  He returned with a bottle of dark, viscous alcohol-mountain spirit that smelled of peat and rot.

  He poured a glass..

  "You got the finger?"

  Liora reached into her tunic.

  She placed a black handkerchief on the table.

  Frank didn't look.

  He pressed his calloused palms against the fabric, feeling the stiff, severed digit beneath.

  Satisfied, he slid the trophy into his pocket. The transaction was as routine as breathing.

  "One of my sources found a prophecy," Frank said, his eyes fixed on the rising liquid. "From that tribe in the eastern forest. The Mauva."

  Liora took a sharp sip of the burn. "I thought Zambauva was just a scrap of folklore for the weak-minded."

  "A century ago, a kingdom tried to colonize that forest," Frank pressed, leaning in. "Thousands went in. Not a soul returned. No one dared to approach after that. Some believe there’s a monster. Or maybe-"

  Liora’s head hit the table with a dull thud. "Ah! My life is so boring," she groaned, cutting through his history lesson like a blade.

  "I’m being serious. This isn’t a fantasy." Frank’s voice dropped an octave, trying to anchor her. "Don't you want to know what it predicts?"

  She yanked her head up, eyes narrow. "Fine. What is it?"

  "The prophecy declares that Dalus will end the world."

  "Bullshit," Liora snapped. "What even is 'Dalus'?"

  Frank didn't answer with words.

  He looked at her, his expression heavy with a meaning he expected her to grasp-a crowning purpose.

  When she remained blank, he leaned closer.

  "Saving the world from this thing...don't you think that might be your purpose, Liora?"

  Liora’s lip curled. "Frank, my job is to kill people. Not... whatever the fuck you’re asking of me."

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "Exactly. You find the Dalus and you kill it." Frank’s gestures became sharp, dramatic. "Think about the millions you’ll save."

  "What’s the bait, Frank?" Her hand drifted toward her blade. "You trying to trap me?"

  "No, no." Frank’s voice was a frantic whisper. "This is revolutionary. We can be the saviors."

  "What makes you think I can kill-"

  "I’ll double the gold," Frank interrupted.

  He hesitated for a heartbeat, his gaze dropping to the coins. "And I’ll let you take my daughter."

  Liora froze. "Frank! What the fuck?"

  She stared at him, searching for logic in a man offering his own blood to a killer. "Who gives their child to a murderer?"

  Frank sighed, the light casting hollow shadows under his eyes. "She won’t marry. She won’t study. All she wants is to just run-off. She’s smart, Liora. She knows languages you’ve never heard-the ancient ones. She might turn out to be the key."

  Liora pressed her forehead into her palms.

  The weight of the proposal felt like the Mistmoor fog.

  "So what?" Liora exhaled, her hand dropping to the sack of gold. "I find this Dalus and I end it?"

  Frank smiled, a cold, thin line of relief. "You got that right."

  Vane Estate:

  Night had hollowed out the estate.

  Kai sat alone in the dining hall.

  The only sound was the rhythmic scrape of his fork against ceramic.

  The silence felt too heavy for a house of this size.

  He stared at his meal, thinking of the 'talk' they've just had.

  About the Royal Families.

  The world wasn't governed by laws; it was governed by monsters with titles.

  He lowered his head for a bite.

  The candle flame didn't flicker.

  The scrape of his fork stopped, but the echo didn't follow.

  He lifted his head.

  Someone was sitting directly opposite him.

  He hadn't moved a chair.

  He hadn't made a sound.

  He simply existed there, as if he had been part of the architecture since the foundations were laid.

  "So," Rowan’s voice was a flat, freezing rasp. "You’re Baron Vane."

  Kai’s heart tried to exit his chest.

  He scrambled backward, his chair catching the rug and slamming into the floor with a violent crack.

  "W-who are you? How did you get in?"

  "Mhmm." Rowan said softly.

  He raised his hands, fingers pinching the empty air.

  The space bled into a jagged, violet rift.

  Rowan reached into the portal. Simultaneously, a second rift tore open directly behind Kai.

  Before Kai could twitch, Rowan’s hand emerged from the hole behind him, snagging his collar in a white-knuckled grip.

  Rowan yanked.

  Kai was hauled through a cold vacuum and spat onto the stone floor.

  His spine collided with the wall. The impact knocked the air from his lungs in a wheezing gasp.

  "What do you think you're doi—"

  BOOM.

  Rowan’s fist buried itself in Kai’s midsection.

  The shockwave traveled through bone.

  Kai’s back slammed into the masonry with enough force to spider-web the stone.

  The glass windows shattered, showering the floor in diamond-sharp shards.

  Kai’s head snapped forward.

  A thick glob of crimson hit the floorboards.

  His body slumped into a heap of dead weight.

  Rowan stood over him, breathing steady.

  He spotted a steak knife on the table.

  He opened a small rift, reached through, and retrieved the blade.

  He knelt, yanking Kai’s head back by the hair.

  The cold steel pressed against Kai’s throat.

  The skin parted-a thin, stinging line of red beginning to bead...when the world went suddenly still.

  A hand.

  Cold as a corpse, clamped onto Rowan’s wrist.

  Rowan tried to pull back.

  His arm felt bolted to a mountain. Slowly, Kai’s head turned.

  The eyes weren't Kai’s.

  They were wide, frantic, filled with a jagged, neon-purple light.

  A smile spread across the face—a grotesque, ear-to-ear tear that showed too many teeth.

  Purple lightning arced off the body, snapping like whip-cracks.

  The entity exhaled a low, rattling sound.

  With a flick of its wrist, it channeled a surge of raw energy, launching Rowan across the room.

  The Censor hit the dining table, the heavy oak splintering into toothpicks.

  Rowan pushed himself up, blood trickling down his brow. "Looks like you showed yourself..."

  He paused, the name tasting like ash. "...Dalus."

  The entity tilted Kai’s head at an impossible angle.

  A wet, rhythmic clicking came from its throat.

  It looked at its own hands, flexing the fingers as if testing a new pair of gloves.

  "You must be from the ACA," the Jester hissed, his voice a dissonant layer of whispers. "Only they know my name."

  He looked at the shattered room, his shoulders shaking violently.

  The lightning danced in his hair as he began to laugh.

  It wasn't triumphant. It was a choking, breathless howl of pure, unadulterated madness.

  "I can feel the power in this brat's body," the Joker gasped between fits, his eyes glowing like dying stars. "What wonderful luck!"

  The laughter escalated, echoing through the hollow halls of the Vane estate, a sound that promised the end...of everything.

  [TO BE CONTINUED]