"Want to add her to your latest collection?" Meyra said as she leaned against the counter, smirking. Her tone was sharp, but there was a glint of something else—playfulness maybe, or just curiosity.
Rykarion blinked, pulled out of his daze, then let out a soft chuckle.
"Uh, what do you mean?" he said, walking toward her slowly, one hand slipping into his coat pocket. "I'm not done winning your heart. That's a full-time quest. Everything else has to wait until I win it... just like I won your body."
Meyra rolled her eyes. "Confident today, aren't we?"
He leaned over the counter, close enough for her to feel the heat off his skin. "I'm always confident. Just sometimes I pretend I'm not, so you won't stab me in the ribs."
She scoffed, reaching past him for a stack of parchment. "I'm still considering it. Might be worth seeing if dragon blood actually sizzles."
"Ouch." He grinned. "But hey—at least let me die knowing I made the assassin smile."
She paused mid-step, glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, then clicked her tongue and walked away.
Rykarion watched her go, the grin still on his lips. Then his gaze shifted briefly toward the stairs.
The mysterious woman hadn't come back down.
Yet.
He turned back to the broom he'd abandoned and started sweeping again, but his thoughts were tangled now. Meyra's fire. That veiled woman's stillness. Two different storms.
And something in the air felt like it was shifting again.
A ripple in calm before another wave hit.
Whatever it was, Rykarion knew this quiet life in Moonveil…
Wouldn't stay quiet much longer.
Silverthorn Sect – Inner Pavilion, Midnight
The moonlight poured in through the paper walls like silver smoke. Lanterns swayed gently in the quiet, but the air inside was anything but calm.
Xuan Feng slammed his teacup down, shattering the porcelain against the floor. Tea splashed across the tiles. His robe was half-loosened, his face red with barely held rage.
"That bastard just walked away!" he hissed. "My father actually bowed his damn head and let him go."
Across from him, seated with far too much poise for someone so young, was another figure—dressed in dark green robes, a family crest stitched in gold over the chest. His fan opened with a flick of the wrist, hiding a smirk.
"Still angry, Feng?" the young man said. His voice was smooth, words drawn out like silk. "You should've expected it. Your father's old. Careful. Too careful, maybe."
Xuan Feng paced back and forth, fists clenched. "He embarrassed me. Me. In front of that outsider. That freak."
"You mean Rykarion?" the boy said, folding the fan again and resting it on his lap. "The man who crippled your spy and made a mockery of the Grand Hall? Yes… I remember the name."
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes cold now. "I also remember the rumors. That his aura attracted spirit beasts. That he walks with some mysterious woman who can kill three beasts in less than ten heartbeats. That he doesn't belong to any sect…"
"Exactly!" Xuan Feng growled. "That's why he needs to be put down."
The young noble smiled.
"I thought you'd never say it."
Xuan Feng narrowed his eyes. "You have a plan?"
"Oh, Feng," the boy said, standing slowly, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve. "I always have a plan. And lucky for you, I don't like Rykarion either. He's an anomaly—and I hate anomalies."
He stepped closer.
"There's a tournament coming up in Moonveil, isn't there?"
Xuan Feng nodded slowly.
"Good," the young noble whispered. "Send in a few… representatives. Not from Silverthorn. Outsiders. Mercenaries. Ones who won't be tied back to you. Let them test him. Let them expose him. And if he dies in the chaos… well—"
He smiled.
"Some beasts just aren't meant to walk among men."
Xuan Feng grinned for the first time in hours.
"You're a bastard," he said.
"And yet here we are," the noble replied, stepping into the shadows of the courtyard, "making beautiful music together."
The plan had begun.
And Rykarion's peaceful days…
Were now numbered.
Jade Petal Inn — Second Floor, Midnight
The hallway was quiet. Only the soft creak of the old wood under moonlight. Downstairs, Rykarion had finally stopped sweeping for the evening. Meyra had gone to her quarters. Outside, the village of Moonveil slept.
But in the corner room—last one down the hall—a soft pulse of spiritual energy rippled.
The mysterious woman stood barefoot on the tatami mat floor. Her veil was still on, thin and sheer, casting shadows across her face. But her hands moved quickly, gracefully, as she traced glowing runes into the air with her fingers.
One by one, the floating symbols shimmered into place—an intricate hexagram blooming on the floor beneath her like a frost flower. Lines of energy crawled out from it, climbing the walls, weaving through the windows and ceiling beams.
A defense array.
No, not just defense.
It was a trap.
Silent. Concealed. Laced with misdirection runes and boundary seals.
She placed a glowing stone in each corner of the room—amber-colored with slivers of black swimming inside like ink in oil. With every one she activated, the light dimmed slightly. The air thickened. Even sound began to muffle.
Then she stepped back.
Her veil shifted as she tilted her head, sensing the flow of energy like a weaver testing silk.
Everything held.
No one would enter this room without her knowing. Not through the door, not through the window, not even through a spirit path.
She knelt in the center of the array and opened a small lacquer box. Inside was a scroll—old, sealed, bound in black thread. She didn't touch it yet.
Instead, she looked out the window.
Down below, Rykarion had stepped outside, probably for some air. He was leaning on the railing of the porch, staring at the stars.
She watched him for a long moment.
Her veil didn't stop her from seeing. Not truly.
She had seen his eyes earlier. And she knew what they meant.
Golden Flame. Rooted in draconic blood. Dormant chaos. Dangerous evolution.
He wasn't normal. Not even close.
And yet… he smiled like someone who'd seen too much but still wanted to laugh.
That was the dangerous kind.
She reached up and touched the edge of her veil. Paused.
Then let it fall back into place.
Not yet.
She turned away from the window and sat cross-legged in the heart of the array, folding her hands in her lap.
Outside, the village was still calm.
But inside the room… shadows coiled like whispers.
And far, far away—
Someone had just noticed her.