The fog clung thicker now, seeping into Kaden's lungs like damp wool as Samuel's hand tightened on his sword hilt.
The crowd's mutters sharpened to growls—"Blacksmith's blade killed him," "Hid the evil in his steel"—but Kaden's focus narrowed to the investigator's green eyes.
They held no curiosity, only certainty.
He's not here to question, Kaden realized.
He's here to take me.
Serena's fingers dug into his palm, her breath hitching.
She'd been his shadow since he'd taken her in—silent, observant, her hands steady on the bellows even when her eyes flickered with fear.
Now, her knuckles whitened, and he felt the tremor in her arm.
"Stay close," he murmured, low enough only she'd hear.
Her nod was a quick jerk, her gaze darting to the forge's distant outline through the fog.
"Your forge first," Samuel said, stepping back, his tone a command dressed as courtesy.
"I'll need to examine your tools. Evidence doesn't keep."
Kaden's jaw tightened.
Evidence.
The broken sword in Isaac's chest—he'd forged that blade a week prior, a simple steel longsword for a farmer's son.
But last night, when the mist had coiled around the forge, the blade had… changed.
A face had swirled in its metal, a voice whispering in his head.
They're closer than you think.
"Move," Samuel said, nudging Kaden with the flat of his sword.
The crowd parted, eyes burning.
Serena stayed glued to Kaden's side, her small frame half-hidden behind his shoulder.
The forge's door loomed, its wood warped from years of heat.
Kaden pushed it open, the hinges creaking a warning.
Inside, the hearth glowed dimly, embers clinging to life.
Tools hung in disarray—tongs, hammers, a half-finished horseshoe on the anvil.
But beneath the clutter lay the real treasure: a locked chest under the workbench, containing the shard of star-iron his master had left him, and a journal filled with sketches of runes that made his blood hum.
Samuel's boots thudded on the floor.
"Search it," he ordered over his shoulder.
Two guards—stocky, eyes hard—stepped in, one heading for the anvil, the other for the chest.
Kaden's pulse quickened.
If they found the star-iron… No.
He met Serena's gaze, tilting his head toward the trapdoor behind the coal pile.
She froze, then nodded once, her fingers brushing the hammer at her belt—her only weapon, a gift from him on her first month as an apprentice.
"Careful with that," Kaden said, louder, pointing at the guard near the chest.
"Old wood. It'll split if you yank—"
The guard ignored him, prying the chest open.
Kaden's stomach dropped.
Empty.
Serena must've moved it already.
Samuel's brow furrowed.
"Where's the rest of your stock?"
"Sold most yesterday," Kaden lied.
"Farmers needing plowshares before the rains."
The investigator's lips curled.
"Convenient." He turned to the guards.
"Check the back. Cellar, stables—anywhere he could hide… artifacts."
As the guards clomped toward the back room, Kaden felt the familiar hum in his veins—the system, stirring.
A faint blue glow flickered at the corner of his vision, the notification appearing only to him: [Hidden mode] Cooling completed. Remaining duration: 30 minutes.
Now.
He grabbed Serena's arm, pulling her close.
"Go to the coal pile. When I say, drop down. Hide."
Her eyes widened, but she nodded, slipping away as Samuel's back turned.
Kaden stepped toward the hearth, pretending to adjust the bellows.
"Hotter than usual today," he said, loud enough for the guards to hear.
"Fog's making the fire stubborn."
Samuel grunted, not looking.
Kaden's hand brushed the system's interface -- activated -- and the world blurred.
His body seemed to melt into the shadows, his footsteps silent even to his own ears.
The guards passed by, none glancing his way.
Serena was already at the trapdoor, her hand on the latch, watching him with wide eyes.
Go.
He mouthed the word.
She vanished below, the trapdoor closing with a soft thud.
Kaden slipped out the back door, the fog swallowing him.
The alley reeked of wet wood and rust, but his attention locked on the wall beside the forge—a faint, glowing rune etched into the stone.
The same one that was on Isaac's sword.
His breath hitched.
Last night, when the blade had spoken, its edge had shimmered with this mark.
He traced it with a finger, the stone humming under his touch.
Follow.
The rune led him through the alley, past a boarded-up tavern, to the town's edge.
The fog thinned here, revealing the skeletal trees of the graveyard, their branches clawing at the sky.
At the far end, a moss-covered altar stood, its surface carved with the same runes, now glowing faintly.
"Kaden?"
He spun.
Serena stood at the graveyard's entrance, her hammer clutched in one hand, her face pale but determined.
"I followed," she signed, her fingers quick.
"I won't let you face this alone."
He almost argued, but the set of her jaw stopped him.
Together, they approached the altar.
Serena tapped the stone with her hammer—clang—and the sound rang with metallic resonance, not stone.
Kaden pressed his palm to the rune, his