Raine stood in the alleyway, heart pounding.


    The insignia rested in his palm, its surface worn smooth by time. He turned it over slowly, running his fingers across its edges. The engraving was deliberate, preserved, as if someone had gone to great lengths to ensure it would never fade.


    He didn’t recognize the symbol.


    But the weight of it in his hand made one thing clear—


    The Arcanum did.


    His throat tightened. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to scan the narrow alley.


    The man was gone. Vanished as suddenly as he’d appeared.


    Raine didn’t chase after him. Something told him that wouldn’t work.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Instead, he focused on his words.


    "They’ve been erasing people like you for centuries."


    Erasing.


    Like the Weaving Society. Like the forbidden names and vanished histories—the ones scrubbed from records, leaving nothing but empty spaces where people had once stood.


    His blood ran cold.


    A sudden noise snapped him back.


    Footsteps.


    Not distant. Close.


    Raine tensed.


    His fingers closed around the insignia as he slipped it into his coat, backing against the alley wall.


    A figure stepped into view at the entrance.


    A robed attendant.


    Not the one from before.


    This one was younger, his expression unreadable, his hands folded neatly in front of him. Calm. Controlled.


    But Raine saw it in his stance.


    He was waiting.


    No guards. No weapons. Just quiet patience.


    The trap hadn’t closed yet.


    But it was about to.


    Raine exhaled slowly, his mind racing.


    The man in the shadows had been right.


    They were giving him time to run.


    Or maybe—


    They were waiting to see if he would.