"Leon!" the wounded man exclaimed, his voice thick with exhaustion.
"Can’t you see we’re in the middle of a discussion?" the other man snapped, clearly offended. Before his bodyguard could move toward the intruder, Leon raised a hand, silencing the room.
"Who did this?" Leon asked.
"Jack," the man croaked.
The name nearly made both Leon and Azeya lose their composure.
"You mean…?" Leon pressed.
"Yes, I saw the famous—"
Leon stood sharply, cutting him off. The atmosphere shifted, the air growing warmer. Azeya quickly took the wounded man aside, while Leon’s focus sharpened dangerously.
"We’ll continue this later," Leon said flatly.
For the other man, it was a precious moment. He hadn’t just witnessed Leon’s cool exterior falter—he’d glimpsed his power. The instant Jack’s name was spoken, the temperature had spiked.
"That’s it, isn’t it?" he thought, awed. "How long would I last against him? Five of us, maybe." Rising to his feet, he forced a smirk.
"Alright, Leon, you’ll tell me when the time is right," he said, heading for the door. He cast a glance back at his men. "Those rings aren’t just for show, boys."
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Azeya stepped back into the room once the guests had left. "Can you relax? It’s supposed to be cold, not warm," she teased, though her tone carried weight. "The man will be fine in five hours. You’ll meet him. He won’t run away—that’s not Jack’s style." She sank into a chair.
"I know," Leon admitted, taking up his wine again. "I’m just curious about who he’s protecting." He took a slow sip. "Still… too cold for this season."
"Has Ryke already left for Zurehn?" he asked.
"Yes," Azeya replied. "He’s already tracked each sibling. He should return by week’s end. He’s too intelligent, you know." She stretched, reaching for a piece of fruit.
"That’s why he’ll be important," Leon said simply.
By the time Leon and Azeya began moving toward Jack, Ryke and Sherlyn had already reached the Kingdom of Zurehn.
The two entered the capital on foot, halfway into the bustling city. Ryke wasn’t surprised by the similarities to Os’Thera’s architecture, but the population was different—denser, more alive. Zurehn’s inland climate made it more favorable than its coastal sister kingdom.
At a bar’s entrance, a man stood waiting, just as the letter had promised.
"Can you wait here?" Ryke asked Sherlyn. She nodded without argument. He preferred to confront the informant alone, uneasy with the thought that one of her siblings might already be dead.
"One of them is gone," the man said grimly as Ryke approached. "Found her dumped—most likely raped and abused by her master before the end."
Ryke’s jaw tightened. "Where’s the brother?"
"Other side of the city. I’ll take you."
"And the other man? Does he have family?" Ryke asked.
"Supposedly a son, but he hasn’t been seen in years. The man’s rich, though. Too rich."
He started making his way back to Sherlyn.
As he drew near, a boy passed between them. He looked to be Ryke’s age—perhaps younger than Sherlyn—but carried an unusual presence. The moment he stepped by, Sherlyn’s powers faltered, canceled completely.
Ryke’s instincts screamed. His hand twitched, almost drawing his dagger, the motion so natural it felt like his body had already decided to fight. But before steel left its sheath, a girl appeared at the boy’s side. She reached for his hand, and instantly the suffocating pressure vanished.
Ryke froze, stunned at his own reaction. "Why did I feel the need to fight when we weren’t even being attacked?" He asked himself.
"Let’s go," he muttered to Sherlyn, who had also gone pale. "It’s not as if we’ve seen his face", he reassured himself inwardly.
They followed the informant through winding streets until he stopped near a shadowed district. From their vantage point, a figure stepped into view—Sherlyn’s brother, emerging from what looked like a brothel.
"The place doubles as a slave market at night," the man explained. "That means today is our best chance."
Ryke’s eyes hardened. "Then we make it count."
