The valley looked unchanged the next morning.

  That was the problem.

  Snow lay smooth across the slopes, unbroken except for the familiar marks near Gajisk’s forge—Darwin’s training scars on the land. Wind moved through the pines in low, whispering waves. The Haze Forest exhaled mist like it always did.

  Too normal.

  Darwin stood at the edge of the clearing, sword resting loosely in his left hand, eyes scanning the white expanse.

  “Something’s wrong,” he muttered.

  Behind him, Gajisk adjusted the straps of his heavy coat. “Say it properly.”

  Darwin inhaled. “There are no mistakes.”

  Gajisk grunted. “Good. Now explain.”

  Darwin crouched and pressed his fingers into the snow near the treeline. It was powdery on top—but dense beneath.

  “Wardens searched this area yesterday,” he said. “Five of them. Armored. They should’ve left tracks.”

  “And?”

  “There are none.”

  Gajisk stepped closer, studying the ground. “Snow fell overnight.”

  “Not enough,” Darwin replied immediately. “It would soften edges, not erase pressure marks this deep.”

  Gajisk straightened slowly.

  “You’re saying—”

  “Someone cleaned them,” Darwin finished. “Or someone never left any to begin with.”

  The forge master was silent for a moment.

  Then, “That narrows the list.”

  Darwin didn’t like the calm in his voice.

  ---

  By midmorning, the Imperial Oath-Bound Wardens returned.

  This time, they didn’t knock.

  They announced themselves with presence alone.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Darwin felt it while hauling water from the stream—an invisible pressure pressing against his chest, heavy and deliberate. He turned before he heard footsteps.

  The lead Warden stood several paces away, cloak dusted with snow. Two others flanked him, spaced with practiced precision.

  “You noticed,” the man said.

  Darwin nodded. “Your tracks.”

  The Warden’s mouth twitched—not quite a smile.

  “Good,” he said. “Then answer this.”

  He gestured toward the slope leading up into the Haze Forest.

  “Did you go there last night?”

  Darwin shook his head. “No.”

  The Warden watched him carefully.

  “You understand,” the man said calmly, “that we cannot lie.”

  Darwin met his gaze. “Then you also understand that I wouldn’t lie either.”

  Silence.

  The Warden finally inclined his head. “Acceptable.”

  Gajisk joined them, wiping his hands on a cloth. “You found nothing.”

  “We found signs of restraint,” another Warden said. “That’s worse.”

  Darwin frowned. “Restraint?”

  “A wounded assassin normally panics,” the Warden explained. “They make mistakes. They bleed. They hide poorly.”

  “And this one?” Darwin asked.

  “He’s conserving,” the man replied. “Waiting. Watching.”

  Darwin felt a chill crawl up his spine.

  ---

  The lead Warden turned slightly, eyes narrowing toward the forest.

  “Yesterday,” he said, “we asked you where you would hide.”

  Darwin remembered.

  “You answered correctly.”

  The Warden’s gaze snapped back to him.

  “Now I ask you something else.”

  Darwin swallowed. “What?”

  “If you were the prey,” the Warden said, voice steady,

  “and you realized the hunters were bound by rules…”

  He paused.

  “What would you do?”

  Darwin didn’t answer immediately.

  His mind raced.

  Bound by contracts.

  Restricted movement.

  Unable to harm civilians.

  Unable to pursue beyond jurisdiction.

  A slow, cold realization formed.

  “…I’d make you hesitate,” Darwin said quietly. “I’d stay close to civilians. Force you to choose between speed and restraint.”

  The Warden’s eyes darkened.

  “Yes,” he said. “Exactly.”

  One of the Wardens cursed under his breath.

  Gajisk’s jaw tightened. “You think he’s nearby.”

  “We know he is,” the lead Warden corrected. “We just don’t know where.”

  Darwin felt the valley shrink around him.

  ---

  Training felt different that afternoon.

  Darwin went through the Forge Breathing technique Gajisk had taught him—slow inhale, controlled expansion, air spiraling inward like a tightening coil.

  Iron Tempering.

  His muscles responded. Heat bloomed beneath his skin, familiar and painful.

  But his focus fractured.

  Every sound felt closer than it should be.

  Every shadow lingered a second too long.

  His footwork faltered twice—not from exhaustion, but distraction.

  Gajisk noticed immediately.

  “Stop,” he ordered.

  Darwin froze mid-stance.

  “You’re listening outward instead of inward,” Gajisk said. “That’ll get you killed.”

  Darwin exhaled slowly. “He’s still out there.”

  “Yes,” Gajisk agreed. “And if you let that fear infect your body, you’ll be easier prey.”

  Darwin clenched his jaw.

  “I’m not afraid.”

  Gajisk’s eyes hardened. “Good. Then respect the danger instead.”

  ---

  That night, Darwin couldn’t sleep.

  Wind brushed against the walls of the forge, soft and irregular. Snow slid from the roof in muted sighs.

  Then—

  A sound.

  Not footsteps.

  Not movement.

  Absence.

  The sudden, wrong stillness of the forest beyond the window.

  Darwin sat up, heart pounding.

  He didn’t reach for the sword.

  He listened.

  Somewhere beyond the trees, something had stopped breathing.

  And Darwin knew—

  with absolute certainty—

  The Rift Assassin had chosen the valley.

  And soon, he would test it.

  ---

  ---