The city breathed differently at night.
Jack walked through the arterial streets of Twin City, his boots clicking against cobblestones slick with evening rain. The air smelled of wet iron and coal smoke, the remnants of the day's labor clinging to the bricks like old sweat. Martin followed half a step behind, his newly elongated fingers twitching at his sides.
They entered The Rusted Ladle, a tavern where the beer was cheap and the patrons cheaper. The barkeep nodded to Martin—a regular now—but his eyes slid right past Jack as if he weren't there. Celestial Deception held strong.
Jack took a corner booth where the shadows pooled thickest. A serving wench brought two ales without being asked.
"Report," Jack said.
Martin leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper that wouldn't carry past their table. "The whispers spread, my liege. The archaeologist Tim wears your mark openly now. He's begun preaching to the dockworkers—claims the crows protect those who bear the sigil."
Jack's fingers traced the condensation on his tankard. "And?"
"Three more took the pendant yesterday. A butcher's apprentice, a laundress, and..." Martin's lips curled, "...a city guardsman."
The ale tasted flat, sour. Jack set it aside. "The seed?"
Martin patted his coat. The fabric bulged unnaturally. "I've scouted the perfect place—the central market square. Thousands pass through daily."
"Tomorrow, then." Jack's gaze drifted to the tavern's smoke-stained windows. Somewhere out there, Elara hunted. "And my shadow?"
Martin hesitated. "She stalks the Warrens. Following some street rat, by all accounts."
A fly buzzed against the windowpane, desperate for the lantern light outside. Jack watched it beat itself to death against the glass.
"Leave her to it."
---
Dawn found Jack at the city's heart, where twelve roads converged like spokes on a wheel. The market square pulsed with early morning activity—fishmongers shouting prices, farmers hawking wilted greens, beggars rattling tin cups.
Martin stood at the base of the central fountain, pretending to examine a stall's wares. Their eyes met briefly. A nod.
Jack palmed the seed.
It squirmed in his grip, pulsing with a heartbeat that wasn't there moments before. The shadows within thickened, forming tiny wings that beat against his skin.
He dropped it into the fountain's basin.
The seed dissolved instantly, black tendrils spreading through the water like ink. A child cupping water to drink frowned at the sudden metallic taste. A washerwoman complained of stains that wouldn't scrub out.
No one noticed the changes at first.
The fountain's statue—a bland depiction of some forgotten mayor—developed a faint crack across its left eye by midday. By evening, the crack had spread, forming the unmistakable shape of a crow in flight.
And the water...
Those who drank from the fountain after sunset reported strange dreams. Dreams of a black sun and a city that breathed. They'd see crows perched on the City walls , silently observing. Those who caught a crow's attention by getting perked by it would find that the next day that they got lucky.
One would find gold when they were farming on their farm , another would be fancied by the son of a wealthy merchant.
---
The clock tower's hidden chamber stank of antiseptic and rotting meat.
Jack stood over his latest subject—a hollowed one captured just hours before full transformation. Its limbs twitched against the restraints, the human mind not yet fully erased by the Maw's corruption. Perfect.
His scalpel glinted in the lamplight as he made the first incision.
The hollowed one screamed.
Jack worked methodically, peeling back layers of flesh to expose the corruption beneath. The Maw's influence spread like black roots through muscle and bone. Fascinating.
A whisper of feathers.
Jack didn't look up. "You're early."
The crow perched on the dissection table, its star-flecked eyes fixed on the writhing subject. It cawed once—a sound that somehow formed words in Jack's mind.
She fails.
The scalpel stilled. "Explain."
Images flooded Jack's consciousness—Elara stalking a blond girl through the Warrens. The botched first encounter. The planned meeting at the tannery. Everything that Elara had been doing flooded into Jack's mind like water into sponge.
Jack resumed his work. "She has three days yet."
The crow tilted its head and cawed as if saying ,'The girl is weak.'
"All mortals are weak." Jack severed a particularly thick tendril of corruption. "It's the breaking that makes them interesting."
The hollowed one gurgled, its remaining eye rolling wildly.
Jack leaned close. "Tell me," he whispered, "what does the Maw dream of?"
The creature's lips split in a grin too wide for its face.
"You," it rasped. "Only you.You hurt it and have angered it."
Jack slit its throat.
---
Elara crouched in the tannery's rafters, watching moonlight pool on the bloodstained floor below. The place reeked of old suffering—a fitting venue for what was to come.
Suia would arrive soon.
The girl had potential. Quick hands. Quicker wits. But more importantly, she had that precious, malleable quality—desperation.
Elara's fingers brushed the ritual knife at her belt. Jack's words echoed in her skull:
'Make sure they survive the process.'
A scuff of boots on stone.
Suia stepped through the ruined doorway, her knife drawn, her eyes scanning the shadows.
"Hello?" The girl's voice wavered only slightly. "I'm here for my gold."
Elara dropped from the rafters, landing soundlessly behind her.
Suia whirled, blade flashing.
Elara caught her wrist with ease. "First lesson," she murmured. "Never come when called."
The girl's pulse rabbited beneath her fingers. Fear and fury warred in her eyes. Good.
Elara smiled. "Shall we begin?"
"Yes." Suia answered in affirmation.
Elara released a bit of Celestial Deception and unleashed her powers. All of the pores on her left hand and her palm radiated hunger , Elara went to where she had captured a criminal then placed her hand on him. Just as her heand touched him she muttered.
"Devour" As soon as those words left her mouth her hand unleashed all its hunger and the man screamed as layer by layer of his skin peeled and went into every pore on Elara being eaten by her powers , even his blood surrounded Elara's hand being eaten by her.
Finally even his skeleton was eaten to oblivion , Elara then turned her attention to Suia. Suia was trembling but still stood firm. Elara threw a knife next to her.
"Take that and bring a head of someone you hate. Come with it in three days at midnight, come to house number 09 on upper district."
With that said Elara blended in with the shadows and left.
Now it was time for her to go study how to create a ritual that would succeed.
---