《The Villainess Cycle》 The Capital of the Sky ¡°If we don¡¯t do this, who¡¯s to say you won¡¯t kill us next?¡± Amon jolted, kicking her legs out and knocking over a trash can. She leaped forward, catching it before it could crash to the ground. As she readjusted the can, ignoring the smell of moldy food and the maggots that slipped onto her gloved fingers, she listened intently to her surroundings. This had been the best sleep she¡¯d had in months¡ªwho dared to interrupt it? For the past week, her home had been an alleyway in the markets between a garment shop and a cafe. Mice and other small critters called themselves her companions¡ªsharing the scraps from the end of business days in a huddle away from the sight of the streets. Light barely graced them during the day, but the streetlights threatened to reveal them once night fell. That¡¯s when they would become almost one with the discarded trash, her tattered clothes helping her blend in to look like nothing more than a pile of discarded fabrics. She brought her cloak closer around her as she peered deeper into the alley, towards where the markets met the slums that she tried so hard to steer away from. Yet it seemed fate had other plans, pushing her closer to its shrouded depths that she may never return from. Three figures stood under a small lamp at a back entrance to some establishment. A brothel? Amon shifted a bit closer, leaning against a chain-link fence that served as a physical border for the change in districts. Two women dressed in overextravagant finery leaned over a mousy fellow. He extended his hands out to them. ¡°No, listen, please. I promise it was nothing like that. Just let me go. Let me go and we¡ªwe can all forget about this, right?¡± His voice heightened to a higher pitch at the end. Amon winced, rubbing her ears. Gods above, she missed the glamours her fellow agents would conjure for her. Being in her true form left her too sensitive for the world in the skies. Still, she watched the interaction, her stomach tightening in trepidation. One of the women scoffed and pointed something at him. He recoiled, squealing. Amon narrowed her eyes, noting how the object reflected the light. A gun?! Her heart raced. ¡°Look, it was just one whore. None of you liked her anyway. Why would you ca¡ª¡° BANG! Amon¡¯s eyes widened as the man¡¯s body slumped forward, headless. The woman not holding the gun gripped what remained of his head. Only then did Amon notice the sword at her side. The women knocked on the back entrance. It swung open to reveal a burly fellow who waved them in. They walked with a skip in their step, twirling the man¡¯s head in their grasp. Once the door closed, Amon moved away from the fence, only to be ripped back and almost fall onto her arse. She looked back to see the glove of her left hand caught in the metal chains. Cursing to herself, she wrenched her hand away. But the fence fought back and took her glove, leaving her skin bare and her Mark out and proud for everyone to see. I¡¯ll deal with it later. It shouldn¡¯t prove a problem tonight. Amon sidled over to the body. She wasn¡¯t proud of it, but she hoped he had something on his person that would help her eat something that didn¡¯t have insects or mold in it. She knelt on the ground, nose scrunching at the blood clinging to the clothes. She certainly wouldn¡¯t be able to sell the suit¡ªa shame, as it looked quite well-made now that she could see it in better lighting. She paused as she realized just what she was doing. She wanted to curse the skies, the RKC¡ªhells, her brother. She used to be a hero, an agent who kept the multiverse intact; and now here she was, rifling through the remains of a dead man in the hopes of finding something worth enough so she could have a proper meal.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Shaking her head, Amon fiddled with the lapels of the suit, flipping the jacket open and running her fingers against the inner linings. They brushed against something hard. A bit more inspection revealed a metallic card. Bringing it more into the light, Amon dropped it with a gasp, recoiling from the body as though it had come back to life. She cursed under her breath. The Gods must be laughing at her. She needed to leave before¡ª ¡°Ambassador Ailadon?¡± A voice called from the end of the alleyway in the slums. ¡°The Council has requested your presence on the Surface.¡± Amon scrambled away from the body. Her heart thundered in her ears, draining out all of her other senses. The need to go, to run, coursed through her. If she didn¡¯t, then they would think she did it. She would be brought to the Guard for judgment, and they would recognize her. Then she would be turned over to Parliament and¡ª She released a long breath, forcing herself to calm down. She couldn¡¯t spiral. She wouldn¡¯t spiral. Right now, she needed to get out of there. ¡°Ambassador?¡± The person called again, a hint of worry in their voice. Amon scrambled for the other end of the alleyway, towards the bazaar that boasted its nightly crowd. ¡°Uncle?¡± She heard just as she broke through the exit. ¡°Uncle?!¡± She weaved her wave through the masses, keeping her eyes forward. ¡°Do you smell that?¡± ¡°By the Gods, have you ever heard of a shower?¡± ¡°This is surely in the jurisdiction of the Guardians, right? Why would they let rodents out on the streets?¡± Amon ignored the murmurs, though her face betrayed her as it grew several shades darker until it resembled a plum. She tried to move to the less-crowded sidewalks, but a bouncer for one of the late-night clubs pushed her. She fell to the ground, her hood falling back and revealing her face. She winced as pain spread across her bottom. Months of malnutrition left her slower than normal, but still, she needed to go before¡ª The bouncer narrowed his eyes. ¡°Horns?¡± He whispered to himself. ¡°Violet eyes like the Void itself¡­¡± Shit. She hastened, clambering back upright and bringing the hood back over her head. Before she could step away, a large hand grasped her shoulder and pulled her backward. The bouncer leaned over her, a wicked grin on his scarred face. He appraised her, a knowing light in his eyes that had Amon¡¯s stomach curling inwardly. ¡°Well, well, if it isn¡¯t the false heir,¡± he sneered, bringing himself close enough to sniff at her. He grimaced. ¡°Needs a bit of a bath, but I know quite a few people out there who would pay a pretty price for your head¡­ among other things.¡± Amon thrashed against his grip to no avail. If this were before, she would have smashed his face into the building and sprinted off, but now she struggled to even keep herself on her own two legs. Gods below, she wished she could rip that smugness right off his face and feed it to a valhound. ¡°Now, how about we get you into the¡ª¡± Just as he pulled her closer to the club, a shout from down the street paused the crowd. ¡°Stop!¡± A tingle ran through Amon¡¯s body as she looked in its direction¡ªfinding everyone around her, including the man holding her, frozen in place. At the end of the street, close to the alley she had come from, a younger-looking man leaned against the brick wall of the garment shop. Sweat lined his brow, but his gaze never left Amon as he stood taller, wiping what looked like blue blood away from his mouth. The Voice. A form of magick very few could command. To the point that in her half-a-millennia of living and so many worlds traveled to, Amon had yet to see someone else wield. With just a simple command, they overtook a person¡¯s control of themselves. To do so to an entire street¡­ Amon didn¡¯t want to stick around long enough to find out how powerful they truly were. She took advantage of the bouncer¡¯s stillness, ripping herself out of his grasp. The Guardians on either side of the Voice-user seemed frozen as well. Amon reckoned in his haste he hadn¡¯t considered directing it properly. And by the way he struggled to walk in a straight line¡ªrepeatedly falling into frozen bodies and tripping over his own feet¡ªshe figured she had a better shot at running now than she did before. Amon rushed through the crowd, weaving between the bodies. The further she got, the more she saw telltale signs that they were regaining control of themselves. A few muscle twitches here, an eye-rolling there, and even a gasp escaping one person. From what she remembered from the arcane books she would study alongside her brother¡ªrather than completing the mundane work her superiors insisted upon¡ªthose subjected to the Voice were fully aware of themselves even when they were under its spell, they just couldn¡¯t do anything. The thought alone of it happening to her left a queasy feeling in her stomach as she reached the other end of the street. ¡°Stop!¡± Another rush washed over her, but she continued to move. How am I unaffected? She reasoned that it didn¡¯t matter as she ran into a nearby side street. Yet it continued to linger in the back of her mind as she rushed further into the heart of the city¡ªthe man¡¯s voice continuing to echo until it eventually died out. The Antique Shop on Gloom If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The Demons From Beyond the Veil Despite the moon hanging high in the sky, the city continued to bustle and thrive around Amon. She kept her cloak close to her, shielding herself despite the old woman¡¯s promise that it was enchanted. Androsa, she reminded herself¡ªrecalling the name painted on a worn wooden sign outside of the shop: Androsa¡¯s Antiques. She caught a glimpse of it after making it further down the street; just in case she ever got the chance to repay the woman for helping her. Once out of the markets, the world around her calmed. A lot more people milled around than she was used to, but¡ªthanks to perhaps the cloak¡¯s magick¡ªthey minded their business and did not engage rudely with her. Sure, there may have been the odd glance or two, but however she may have appeared, none would think a nicely dressed person would smell so horrid. At one point she stopped and asked for directions, as she never had the chance. She was pointed toward where lines of people were gathered. They were watching something on one of the main streets, which she needed to cross to get to North Vil. Part of Amon was curious, but the other part was wary of being in such a large crowd. Still, the only other way¡ªas pointed out by the kind old man¡ªwould cost her an extra half hour. And though she spent the past week traveling and could certainly stick it out for a bit longer, she didn¡¯t want to. With a sigh, she walked over to see just what occupied everyone¡¯s attention. First, all she could see was a procession of carriages; but after pushing her way closer to the road, she spotted the gleaming armor and froze where she stood. Of course, with her luck¡­ Being the only ones permitted to return to the Surface, the Valkyr often carried out expeditions to keep the empire in the sky running like any other land. This must have been the most recently returned group, brought to the capital to remind the citizens that the Valkyr Corps was still active despite what the rumors would lead one to believe. Outfitted in armors that rivaled anything that could be produced on the Surface, the Valkyr carried an air of both extravagance and power that would make anyone quake in their boots. The metal glinted in the moonlight, shimmering with a myriad of enchantments that would make any mage¡¯s mouth water. They paraded in on a mixture of Griffins, Hippogriffs, Sphinxes, and Pegasi, each outfitted with similar armor to their riders. The creatures walked with more grace and precision than many of the nobles Amon used to be familiar with. This is the product of years¡¯ worth of grueling training and experience. Amon recalled the frightening stories she used to hear of what occurred on the Floating Isles, of what the Valkyr trainees would face in the pursuit of everlasting glory and honor¡ªalong with the privilege to see the Surface as something more than an infinite space of green and ground. As more recruits disappeared than came out at the end, many were reluctant to join their ranks. This led the Valkyr to instead exploit those with empty pockets and a tendency for betting¡ªpromising to resolve their debts and keep their stomachs full in exchange for children they wouldn¡¯t mind letting go. Many would claim to be immune to such promises, but when an opportunity like that comes along just as you¡¯re about to lose hope¡­ Perci lost more than a few friends and servants to those Isles. She shook herself, turning to look for the detour the old man showed her. The pack of supplies grew heavier by the second, and this way would be shorter compared to waiting for the Valkyr to pass. The murmurs around her grew as a Valkyr strolled through on her own two feet, two sets of pure-white feathered wings folded behind her, and a serious expression that spelled ¡®murder¡¯ written across her face. ¡°Isn¡¯t that Captain Rialis?¡± ¡°I hear her squad is one of the best in the nation. parliament is always sending them to the Surface.¡± ¡°I thought she disliked coming to the Capital?¡± Amon stared at the Captain, worry gnawing at her. What could have brought on the need for such a display? Especially if the squad primarily performed scouting missions? Even without her Sight, Amon could see the silent anger brewing within the Captain and her squad. None of them reveled in the praises shouted at them, ignoring the crowds gathered on either side of the street. In fact¡ª Something tickled the back of her head. She looked around, thinking it may be in part due to a mage (they sometimes liked to poke where they didn¡¯t belong) but her breath left her when she spotted the culprit. In an alleyway close by stood four beings with scarlet red eyes, all fixed on her. They looked like her, like a Kenra, with their pretty faces and curved horns, but also different. Their skin resembled the cobblestones, grey and cracked. An aura surrounded them that promised chaos and death. Shadowfaen. One of them opened their mouths, unleashing a blood-curdling screech that echoed through the street. Everyone around her covered their ears and sought cover. The Valkyr sprang into action, drawing out their blades and searching for the source of the sound. Amon couldn¡¯t move. Her feet wouldn¡¯t listen. The Shadowfaen rushed out of their hiding place, bat-like wings extending as they stormed through the area, attacking anyone within their sight. The Valkyr, for their part, fought them with brave expressions, but it was clear they were overpowered as several were killed where they stood, their beasts having their hearts torn out by the monsters.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! A Pegasus¡¯ head landed in front of Amon¡¯s feet, its eyes devoid of life. That spurred her into action as she ran, not caring where she ended up. One of the creatures followed her, its footsteps rapid on the ground behind her. Amon¡¯s breath left in short gasps as she tried every method, she read about to confuse the beast. She ran in zig-zags, she took sharp turns down random side streets until she was lost. She even attempted to reach for that core energy her brother¡¯s arcane teacher ranted about, yet as always felt nothing except a dull void within. But it stuck to her trail, chasing her. Amon came out to a crossroads, where a bridge passed over one of the few rivers in the city. Her ticket to the northern districts. But just as she made to dash, she tripped. Her pack fell, scattering the books everywhere. ¡°Shit, shit, shit.¡± She tried to gather them, but her hands trembled and she either dropped them or struggled to fit them in the pack. The slow footsteps of the Shadowfaen approached its talons clacking against the ground. Fuck it. She stood to run. A hand grasped her ankle and yanked her back. The Shadowfaen lifted her into the air, sniffing her as its crimson eyes stared into her own. It reeked of rot. Her stomach churned, but fear kept her from even blinking. Master¡­ Its voice echoed in her brain, and she winced. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Shivers ran down her spine. How could Persi¡¯s ancestors handle being close to such beasts? A battle cry sounded nearby. Captain Rialis flew through the sky, crashing into the Shadowfaen. It released her. Amon fell to the ground. The two clashed while she shuffled back against a random building, unable to do anything but watch as Rialis engaged the creature, her eyes wide in what must have been terror. The Shadowfaen fought, its blows backed by the violent energy of the Void, but the Captain wielded her own magick, trading each hit with one of her own. These were nothing like the complicated techniques Amon had trained centuries to master. No, they exchanged pure, unaltered magickal energy. A mishmash of violet and indigo met to create an explosion of black magick that Amon took care to dodge the remnants of. Yet, as Amon very well knew, one would outlast the other. And by the sweat dripping down Rialis¡¯ dark skin, she figured there wasn¡¯t nearly enough time. She searched her surroundings and found the books still scattered across the street. Instead of waiting to see the fight¡¯s outcome, she dashed forward to grab them and would have run off if not for the Captain crying out. She turned to see the Shadowfaen¡¯s claws ripping through the Captain¡¯s left shoulder, causing the Valkyr to drop her sword. Amon noticed then how bloody and torn her wings were as well. She needed to run. You need to do something. As though grabbed by an unseen force, Amon¡¯s attention was ripped away and towards the northern district, where the golden towers of the Castle of Lords were still shrouded with the telltale signs of construction crews. Or are you going to pretend it¡¯s not your problem again? The voice in her head was her own, yet also not. It held a firmness and directive too strong for her current state. But what could she do? All of her weapons training was useless for her current state. No magick had yet to show itself¡ªthat¡¯s how she ended up like this in the first place. And she had no knowledge of the Shadowfaen except that their very existence served as one of several stains on Persi¡¯s family¡¯s legacy. She looked back at the creature holding Rialis, remembering what it called her. That¡¯s it¡­ they once controlled them¡­ Amon glanced down at the back of her left hand, her brother¡¯s voice echoing in her mind. ¡°He¡¯s only the Heir in name. I think¡­ the true power lies in that Mark, as much as they wish to deny it. I¡¯m sure one day we will unlock that secret.¡± Amon resolved herself. If the Shadowfaen killed Rialis, it would just come after her next. She had to do something. Rialis scrambled to grab her sword with her other hand. ¡°Run, now!¡± Amon didn¡¯t listen. A stirring in her core ignited an unfamiliar light. Any other time, and she would have freaked out. But she allowed it to well up inside her, to push energy and strength into her veins. She charged at the creature, her books forgotten on the ground. Without thinking, she grabbed it by the back of its neck, the momentum ripping it away from Rialis and bringing them both to the ground and rolling together. The creatures scratched at her, but she kicked back, hissing as her claws extended and her Sight opened, showing the magickal energy surrounding the creature in front of her. Traces of the Void clung to it like a second skin, covering it in its violet embrace. Acting on pure instinct, Amon continued to roll them until she was on top of the Shadowfaen, using her newfound strength to press her left hand against the creature¡¯s neck. All she was thinking was how much she wanted it gone. ¡°Master, why? Master!¡± It screeched in her mind, writhing underneath her violently, but she held it in place. Her hand burned as though she had placed it in a fire, the Mark flashing a faint violet light before the creature disintegrated beneath her. Within seconds, she knelt in a pile of ash. Amon breathed heavily as the events caught up in her mind. She leaped away, staring down at her left hand¡ªthe creature¡¯s voice continuing to echo in her mind. They could talk? ¡°By the Divines¡­¡± It wasn¡¯t her that spoke. The Captain leaned heavily on her sword, staring wide-eyed at the pile of ash. ¡°Well, that¡¯s one way to deal with them I guess.¡± The Captain glared at Amon. ¡°But you disobeyed my order.¡± ¡°If I hadn¡¯t, you¡¯d be dead.¡± ¡°You seem so certain. Are you a Seer? An Oracle?¡± Amon bit her tongue. She didn¡¯t need the Valkyr looking into her. She rather liked being alive, all things considered. So, she slid away, placing the books into her pack and sliding it over her shoulder. The Captain motioned down the street. ¡°Keep heading that way for a couple of blocks and you¡¯ll find the Nightgate Inn. Faraldin should be operating there. Stay hidden until the situation is dealt with.¡± Amon¡¯s eyes narrowed. That was the opposite direction the old man had pointed out. Where in the Hells was he about to send me then? Shaking the thoughts from her mind, she nodded and ran off to do just that. Anything would be better than getting on the Valkyr¡¯s bad side. Or worse, gaining her attention and remaining in her memory. ¡°Wait.¡± Amon froze. Was this the end? She must have recognized her. Is this when she would be killed? After her, it was only a matter of time before they got her brother and then that was that. Their House would cease to exist. The Valkyr approached her and opened the pack, examining the books. Her brow furrowed. ¡°Are these from Androsa¡¯s shop?¡± Amon nodded. ¡°She asked me to drop them off to someone.¡± The Valkyr hummed, giving Amon a long stare before sending her off again. Amon had never walked so fast in her life, the aches of the ordeal already a forgotten memory as she rushed to leave the Valkyr¡¯s sights. The Inn of Vagrants Not taking stock of its decrepit appearance, Amon entered the inn only to be met with a mass of unsavory figures. In her time on the streets of Kuvash, she knew quite a few of them from word of mouth. Plenty of them hunted her upon her arrival, and Amon did whatever was necessary to not fall into their grasp. Mobsters, bounty hunters, and even members of the assassins and thieves guilds all turned in her direction when she stepped through the door. A stocky man with a pig-like nose leaned in her direction from one of the many occupied tables, his cigar barely hanging onto his slim lips as he spoke. ¡°Ye don¡¯t look like one of our scouts or a new hire. Get lost, outsider.¡± She looked to the bar, where no one sat despite a man standing behind it. He observed the room with a calm expression, yellow cat-like eyes landing on her form. He twirled his curled mustache, cocking his head to the side. ¡°You don¡¯t look like a regular,¡± his voice was rich and even. ¡°Might as well head back out the way you came.¡± Amon huffed and walked to the bar, pushing the satchel in his direction. ¡°Androsa sent these to you.¡± He didn¡¯t even look at them. ¡°Great. Consider them delivered. Now go.¡± She grit her teeth. ¡°I can¡¯t. A Valkyr told me to stay here.¡± A tension settled over the room. Amon could sense more than a few folks readying their weapons. Her heart raced. She stood still, evaluating her options. Whatever energy had possessed her in her fight with the Shadowfaen was long gone, lost in her walk to North Vil. And even if it was still there, she doubted she could win toe to toe with trained fighters and killers. Not in her current state. ¡°Look,¡± she tried. Maybe the bartender could see reason. ¡°Shadowfaen are attacking the city. If I go out there, I¡¯m dead.¡± ¡°And so, you bring that trouble to my doorstep?¡± The bartender huffed, turning away from her and cleaning some discarded glasses. ¡°I don¡¯t care much for outsiders coming around here. It¡¯s bad for business. So, I reckon you¡¯re better off going against the Shadowfaen than trying to find a place here.¡± Anger warmed her body. She wanted to smack the glass out of his hand. Even smash it into one of the patrons glaring at her. But she internally shook herself. No, violence was rarely the best option. Or, at least in this scenario, it was the most suicidal one. She needed to keep a level head or end up like that dignitary. She winced. Perhaps too soon to think about that, she thought. Most likely, the man had not even passed through the Veil yet. Amon pressed her left hand down on the counter, leaning towards the bartender. ¡°Easy there, miss,¡± someone else called from behind her. She could sense several people shift in the crowd, readying themselves in case the bartender gave the go-ahead. But she ignored them, keeping her attention solely on him. ¡°Shadowfaen are probably worse for business. More Guardians and Valkyr will be patrolling the streets, which makes it harder to conduct your affairs, right, Faraldin?¡± His expression remained impassive, though a twinkle shined in his eyes. ¡°And what would you know about my affairs?¡±Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Amon examined him, noting a faint shimmer against his tanned skin. A glamour¡­ She recalled the rumors surrounding the man standing before her, of the connection that may have bound them. ¡°You¡¯re the best of the best,¡± Amon said, watching him closely as she spoke. ¡°But this empire has seen the mightiest fall on a whim. You need all the help you can get.¡± His eyes flickered down to her hand, widening slightly before his jaw tensed. ¡°Come with me.¡± A part of her screamed at the prospect of following a stranger, but she would rather take her chances with him than the other Shadowfaen still rampaging in the streets. Following him, they descended into a dark cellar. Amon briefly considered that this venture could mean her end. For all she knew, he would tie her up and sell her to any of the patrons upstairs. Aside from her brother, Amon was the most wanted person in all the skies. Perhaps she should have been more cautious up to this point, but¡­ she needed to rely on something, even if it was the reputation of a criminal. It would be better than spending another handful of months living in the alleys. No torture chamber awaited her in the cellar. The area seemed chaotic at first glance, but the longer Amon examined the room, the more sense it made. Shoved in one corner was what looked like an office, with bookshelves lining the brick wall behind a high-back leather chair and a large mahogany desk filled with scattered files and papers. In the middle of the cellar stood a circular table with several chairs surrounding it. And the rest of the space was dedicated to piles of boxes upon boxes¡ªmost unlabeled. Amon¡¯s eyes drifted to a message board next to the table. Various maps and other documents were tacked on it, but what drew her attention were the portraits sporting bounties from criminals across the empire. One of them was the man right in front of her: Faraldin Al-vashar ¡ª six-thousand gold pieces. And just beside it: Pursina Kishpu-La¡¯atzu ¡ª one hundred thousand gold pieces. Amon swallowed, hard. Faraldin tapped on her picture. ¡°There is a pretty price out there for you, Pursina.¡± She crossed her arms, trying to maintain a stern demeanor even though, inside, she trembled. What if this was a bad idea? What if he really did sell her? ¡°Now,¡± he leaned against the side of the board, ¡°you should tell me why I shouldn¡¯t turn you in.¡± ¡°Because you¡¯re up there too. And if rumor has it right, I reckon it¡¯s for the same reason as me.¡± He raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. ¡°High prices like that can only mean one thing: you have a connection to the House of Starlight.¡± Amon mirrored his posture, crossing her arms and lifting her chin in his direction. ¡°And I can see your glamour. You should conceal it better.¡± ¡°I do, but it¡¯s useless against those with that Mark. Powerful magick users, you lot.¡± ¡°I possess no magick. Just the ability to see things differently.¡± ¡°Maybe it¡¯s something that will come to pass.¡± Silence stretched between them. Amon examined the room again, her gaze repeatedly drawn to one of the few labeled boxes: Forbidden Books. Faraldin broke the silence. ¡°So, you want to work for me?¡± ¡°It¡¯s better than roaming the streets. And I reckon you give some kind of payment.¡± He nodded. ¡°Free food and lodging along with a weekly wage. Keep any tips folks may hand you, as well. You work shifts in the inn and run whatever jobs I hand you, no questions asked.¡± Amon took time to mull over it. More for appearance¡¯s sake than anything else. She was ready to agree to sleep in the cellar if that¡¯s all he was willing to offer. But just as an added sense of security¡­ ¡°House¡¯s Promise that I won¡¯t be harmed?¡± She tensed as she said it. Yet Faraldin didn¡¯t hesitate to hold out his arm for her. ¡°I will do my best to keep you safe under my care.¡± Reaching out with her left hand, she grasped his wrist. Pressing her fingers against his pulsepoint, Amon focused until her heart beat in tune with his. ¡°A promise is a promise,¡± she whispered in a language she still did not know the name of. Her Mark flashed, warming their skin. When she pulled away, a much smaller version marked his pulse point. Faraldin flashed her a grin. ¡°Now, why don¡¯t we discuss your duties more fully?¡± Amon sat in front of his desk while leaning back in the high-back chair. As they talked late into the night, she still couldn¡¯t help but think it was all too good to be true. And, in fact, it was. Even though Amon had a list of jobs to run and moved into a spare room, the next week, the unexpected happened. The Wanderers returned for the first time in a decade. The Wanderers of the Realm The Wanderers arrived within a day of the announcement that the Valkyr and Guardians quelled the Shadowfaen threat. Faraldin insisted on accompanying Amon for the day¡¯s errands that morning, which included purchasing supplies from Virtag Plaza downtown. She did not necessarily mind, as he served as a good guard dog, keeping away any sticky hands that may have done away with her coin purse by now. The overcast sky provided the perfect shade for more people to roam the streets than usual, which meant more opportunities for pickpockets to make a living for the month. As she perused the vendors, he shook hands with shopkeepers, a small parcel passing between the gestures. Each time, Amon would check to see if a Guardian was watching, but they would be looking in the opposite direction. When the day¡¯s purchases were completed, they approached the Landing Square to wait for a coach. Since the Valkyr rarely used the platform for more than grandstanding, people often gathered to lounge between their strolls through the streets. More than a few families occupied the area. Couples lounged on benches or on the soft grass. Kids ran back and forth from their exhausted parents to the marble fountain in the square''s center. Teens eyed the roped-off area guarded by several Valkyr, who shook their heads at them when they met their gazes. Amon grinned to herself. It was nice to see that even as the decades passed, some traditions and rites of passage remained the same. In Persi¡¯s memories, it was not too long ago that her brother dared her and her childhood best friend to approach the ropes. Somehow, she and Seren managed¡ªgetting close enough to see the edge of the capital¡¯s land and the perilous skies below. Beyond the borders, she spotted a few more floating towns and cities connected by the Sky Lifts, which allowed more accessible travel for those without permits to fly winged beasts. Amon shuddered at the memory of sitting in one of the trams as it shook violently along the cables between one tower and the next. The operators swore up and down that the wards met all safety standards and had even been created by members of the Academy of Architects in their very own realm, but she was still doubtful. Perhaps inventions from the other fragments of their world should remain there. Though it pattered along the streets quite happily, the wagon full of goods seemed to grow heavier with each step. Even though Amon said nothing about it, Faraldin motioned to a bench sporting a well-dressed elderly couple. They scurried away the moment they saw him looming beside them. ¡°They seemed quick to leave,¡± Amon remarked as she sat beside him. Having the time to focus more on her surroundings, she noted the sidelong glances from more than a few passersby, but they looked away as soon as they met her gaze. Faraldin leaned back on the bench, turning his chin to the sky as he closed his eyes. ¡°Merida and Vinius Peral. They¡¯re fabric vendors and have been experiencing delayed shipments because of the decline in Valkyr recruits. Fewer of their numbers means fewer scouts, which means fewer expeditions to the Surface for non-essential goods. Their business suffered, so they came to me. Naturally, I offered them a loan, but¡­¡± He huffed and pinched his nose. ¡°I think they¡¯ve taken my kindness for granted. It¡¯s been months since they¡¯ve given me some form of repayment.¡± ¡°Do you want me to add them to my list?¡± Amon pursed her lips, wondering how Androsa would react to her latest duties¡ªstrongarming merchants into paying their dues. So long as she didn¡¯t end up on the antique shop¡¯s doorstep again, she reckoned the old woman would be pretty alright with it. Faraldin turned his head to face her. His glamour no longer shimmered each time she looked at him as though he improved the enchantments behind it. Too powerful my ass. ¡°Hmm. Who do you have so far?¡± Amon grabbed the list from her breast pocket and handed it to him. She looked out over the crowd as he read it over, muttering notes to himself. A pair of twin teens bickered over a coin they each held. ¡°We can¡¯t use it on a stupid wish like that!¡± One said, pulling the coin in their direction. ¡°Make it something feasible, at least.¡± ¡°Oh, because your idea is much better. You really think a wish at a fountain will help you get a date?¡± The other twin tugged their own side. ¡°Not even the face sculptor on Gloom can help your sorry face.¡± ¡°We have the same face!¡± Amon chuckled and reached into her coin purse, finding a few leftovers she didn¡¯t mind parting with. But then she heard the flapping of wings. Shadowy figures approached from high above, slightly obscured by the clouds. A chill ran down Amon¡¯s spine. Shadowfaen? Gods, why would they be back so soon? Then the clouds parted, revealing winged beasts ridden by figures wrapped in shadows.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. They descended, disrupting the families who had been enjoying the space. Parents clutched their children and darted off to the sides, some down alleyways and others into random buildings. Amon could make out more of the riders as the newcomers approached. Ebony breastplates shone in the low sunlight, the Nightwalker sigil catching the yellow rays and reflecting them back into her eyes. The cloaks cascading along their forms billowed in the soft wind. They adjusted on their mounts, looking over the wary crowd, but monstrous masks hid their expressions. Wanderers. Skirion¡¯s jailors if you listened to the revolutionists, their protectors if you listened to those who preferred complacency, or just a bunch of arrogant assholes if you listened to just about anyone else. Besides the Valkyr, they were the only other source of contact Skirion had with the Surface, bound by an old treaty to check in on the empire after incidents that involved the Shadowfaen. Amon could count on one hand the number of times she had seen them in the five hundred years she lived in the sky since her mission began. Only two of those times did she stand this close. Once, her brother hosted them at their mansion for a peace conference. And again, between the doors of the cupboard in her adoptive family¡¯s kitchen as they checked their house under suspicion that she was residing there. She couldn¡¯t recall a time before when she feared for her life so desperately. Well, until her encounter with the Shadowfaen and Valkyr Captain. Faraldin tugged her to stand a bit behind him. When some patrons inquired about her origins and how she convinced Faraldin to take her in, he inserted himself between her and the present danger. She reckoned¡ªno, she knew¡ªit was because of the House Promise. If any harm came to her while he could prevent it, he would receive the same pain tenfold. Still, after so long being alone, she couldn¡¯t help but take slight comfort in having someone else invested in her wellbeing. Before her brother¡¯s treason, before she had to go on the run, she could always count on their close friends to be by her side. As a magickless Realm Keeping Corporation member, she was often judged and considered inferior to her peers. Besides her brother, she had no one. Thus, for now, she took comfort in the warm arm before her as she watched the warriors stride in on beasts that reeked of the Void. Chills crawled across Amon¡¯s skin¡ªreminding her oh-so-much of when she stood near the Shadowfaen. Unfortunately, she quickly realized that two of the approaching figures were all too familiar to her¡ªno, to Persi¡ªeven with their gazes covered by masks. She pressed her face against Faraldin¡¯s shoulder, looking the perfect picture of a frightened maiden as she whispered, ¡°I know two of them.¡± He said nothing as he leaned back to wrap his arm around her. They stood in unison and walked into the side streets through one of the nearby alleyways. Even though she now called the inn home, a sense of nostalgia welled up in her as they navigated the maze of passages one could get lost in if they weren¡¯t careful. They passed shady blokes shaking down an old man for all of his copper, sidestepped the orphans running by with sticky hands and hunger in their eyes, and the women claiming the lives of sleazy men behind their parlors. Amon winced as she remembered the dignitary. Did his death prompt the Wanderers¡¯ arrival as well? Would she have to hide in a cupboard again? While Faraldin promised to protect her, what would stop his patrons from snitching? She knew from experience that anyone could be swayed with the right measure of gold. They returned to the inn within half an hour and hurried down into the cellar. Faraldin went straight to his desk whilst Amon took a seat at the circular table, glaring at her brother¡¯s portrait with his own bounty. ¡°Why did you do it, DeDe?¡± She whispered. ¡°What was that?¡± Faraldin called out to her as he rifled through some documents. ¡°What are we going to do about them?¡± She said a bit louder. ¡°Depends. How do you know them?¡± Amon pursed her lips, mulling over a proper answer. Even though they weren¡¯t her memories, the feelings and flashes of images felt like they lived within her mind. In Persi¡¯s mind, how could she quantify two relationships that left a million shards in her heart? She spent decades in a long-forgotten village plucking them out, resolving herself that there would never be closure with them. Yet countless times, her mind would wander, and she would be thinking about them again, and now here they were. ¡°Meren and Seren Yazael. Seren and I bonded over being the leftover heir, the one no one really wanted to haggle and charm. He was my best friend. And Meren¡­¡± ¡°Was engaged to you.¡± Faraldin nodded. ¡°I saw the papers. ¡®A Pairing for the Ages,¡¯ they called it. You think he will be looking for you?¡± ¡°Yes. We never saw each other in the aftermath of what happened.¡± She chuckled to herself. ¡°I found out about our breakup on the village message board I was hiding in.¡± Faraldin sighed, leaning over his desk and looking over the papers before him. Amon looked over his form. Her mind raced as she considered one possible idea. It would not be the end-game plan, but it would help her continue to run her jobs and keep her end of the bargain for now. ¡°Your glamour has improved.¡± He said nothing. ¡°When my brother tried to teach Meren, it took months before they finally gave up. But one quip from me and you seem to have patched it up quite fine.¡± ¡°It would be best to spit it out before your ex-fianc¨¦ knocks down my door.¡± ¡°Can you glamour me to look like a human?¡± He glanced up at her, examining her form. ¡°Kenra are hard to glamour.¡± ¡°You say that like you¡¯re not one.¡± Which wouldn¡¯t make sense since he was able to make the Promise. Unconsciously, her gaze dropped to his wrist, but it was covered by his long sleeves. ¡°I can do it, but I wonder if that will be enough,¡± his words brought her attention back to his face, which wore a pained expression. ¡°Matters of the heart are difficult enough as is, and I wonder how your story with him will continue now.¡± ¡°You sound like a bard.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°Besides, if Meren truly still cared for me, he would have come to me as a fianc¨¦ rather than a Wanderer. He has made his intentions clear, and I need to protect myself until they leave.¡± ¡°And after that? Do you really think you can outrun the Valkyr, the Guardians, and the Wanderers?¡± ¡°The Wanderers will be done as soon as the Emperor pays him off like all the times before. And the Guardians have no obligation to seek me out.¡± ¡°And the Valkyr?¡± Rialis¡¯ face flitted through her mind. Amon huffed. ¡°Are you going to keep to your promise or not?¡± Faraldin held up his hands and stepped away from his desk. ¡°Very well. Consider the topic dropped.¡± He walked to stand in front of her, his palms glowing with a faint silver. Amon frowned. Wasn¡¯t his magick green before? ¡°Now, this may hurt.¡± Before she could question him, a bright light engulfed the cellar in a flash of white. A Job for a Fixer Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The Demons Plague Me Each Day It Seems If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. A Departed Ally If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. To Plan a Heist Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.