Dawn

Dawn came slow.

Elysia watched the first light spill between the stone spires of Empyria, turning last night's rooftops gold. Below her, the city stretched — alive, unaware, indifferent.

Somewhere beneath those tiles, the Serpent Conclave moved.

She'd spent the night curled beneath the rusted arch of a forgotten chapel, breath fogging in the cold. Her shawl was damp. Her boots ached. The dagger still lay against her thigh like a coiled viper.

She hadn't slept.

Every time she'd closed her eyes, she saw Thira's face. The crack in her voice. I don't want to die because of you.

And Bramm's warning echoed: They don't just kill you. They make examples.

She'd thought about running. About slipping onto a merchant vessel bound for anywhere else. But that would mean leaving them behind, and despite everything—despite the thrill that still sang in her blood when she looked at the dagger—she couldn't do that.

This wasn't a game.

She rose with the city's breath, disappearing into its arteries — another soul in the current.

The Return

By the time she reached the fat merchant's manor on Sunstone Circle, her decision had solidified.

She wasn't doing it for the thrill anymore.

She was doing it for them.

Elysia knelt before the gate, slipping the folded parchment from her coat. She'd written it in the dark, her hand shaking more than she'd expected:

"We didn't know. We return what is yours. Leave us in peace."

She pressed it flat against the oaken door.

Then, without ceremony, she drew the dagger and slammed it through the note into the wood.

The serpent's sigil gleamed in the morning light, seeming to watch her with metallic eyes.

She didn't linger.

Discovery

The streets grew louder as the city stirred — bartering cries, cart wheels rattling, beggars muttering prayers to gods long gone. The world felt normal again.

That should have comforted her.

It didn't.

She was three blocks from the hideout when she heard the commotion.

Lowspire Street was packed — not with vendors, but with people. Silent. Gathered in a half-circle. Their faces were pale, some turning away, others unable to look away from whatever held their attention.

Elysia's stomach sank.

She pushed forward, heart hammering.

"Let me through," she whispered, then louder: "Let me through!"

The crowd parted with hushed voices and wide eyes. Someone crossed themselves. A woman covered her child's face.

Then she saw him.

Bramm sat against the wall like a broken doll. His broad shoulders slumped forward. His beard, usually so carefully braided, was matted with dried blood. His chest—

Elysia's knees gave out.

Too many wounds. Deliberate. Precise. They'd taken their time.

But it was the tongue — nailed to the wall above him with a slender dagger — that made her stomach heave.

A message. A warning.

This is what happens to thieves.

She couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The crowd's murmurs became a roar in her ears.

Bramm. Solid, grumbling, loyal Bramm. Who called her 'twig' and complained about her recklessness but always had her back. Who'd saved her from more than one guard's blade with his quick hands and steady nerves.

Who'd warned them about the Conclave.

Who'd died because she wouldn't listen.

Elysia turned and ran.

The Reckoning

The Hideout – An Hour Later

Kael paced like a caged wolf when she stumbled through the door. His usually neat hair was disheveled, his hands shaking as he ran them through it over and over.

"Where is he?" he demanded before she'd even caught her breath. "Bramm was supposed to meet me at dawn. He's never late. Never."

Thira sat on her usual barrel, but something was wrong with her posture. Too straight. Too still. Like she was holding herself together by will alone.

"Elysia," she said quietly. "Where's Bramm?"

The question hung in the air.

Elysia opened her mouth. Closed it. The words wouldn't come.

She stumbled to a crate and sat heavily, staring at her hands. They were clean, but she could still see the blood. Bramm's blood.

"They got him."

The words were barely a whisper.

Kael stopped pacing. "What?"

"I found him in Lowspire. He's... they..." Her breath caught. "They nailed his tongue to the wall."

Silence.

Then Thira made a sound — not quite a sob, not quite a gasp. She doubled over, arms wrapped around her stomach like she'd been punched.

Kael just stared. "No. No, that's not... Bramm's too careful. Too smart. He wouldn't..."

"He's dead, Kael."

The words hit like a physical blow. Kael's face went white, then red, then white again.

"You gave it back," he said suddenly. "Tell me you gave it back."

"I did. This morning. I left it at the merchant's door with a note. I thought—"

"You thought." Kael's voice was ice. "You thought they'd just forgive and forget. Like this was some children's game where you could say 'sorry' and everything goes back to normal."

"That's not—"

"ISN'T IT?" He whirled on her, and she'd never seen him this angry. Kael, who was always steady, always reasonable. "You kept that dagger when we all told you to get rid of it. You put us all at risk for what? A pretty blade? The thrill of being noticed by killers?"

Elysia flinched like he'd struck her.

"I was trying to fix it—"

"You can't fix dead, Elysia!" His voice cracked. "Bramm is dead because you wouldn't listen. Because you never listen. Because everything has to be an adventure to you, even when it gets people killed!"

Thira was crying now, silent tears streaming down her face. She looked between them like she was watching something break that could never be mended.

"Stop," she whispered. "Please, just... stop."

But Kael wasn't done. "You want to know what Bramm told me yesterday? He said he was worried about you. Said you were getting reckless, taking too many risks. He was planning to talk to you, try to get you to slow down."

Each word was a knife.

"He died worried about you," Kael continued, his voice dropping to something cold and final. "And you weren't even there."

Elysia felt something crack inside her chest. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't—"

"I don't know what you think anymore." Kael moved to his cot and began shoving belongings into his travel pack. "But I know I'm done finding out."

The Choice

Thira stood slowly, wiping her eyes. "Kael, wait. We need to stay together. Now more than ever."

"No." He didn't look at either of them. "We need to run. Separately. The Conclave knows who we are now. They know where we go. Staying together just makes us easier targets."

He paused, a worn cloak half-folded in his hands.

"Bramm was the smartest of us. The most careful. And they still got him. What chance do we have?"

Silence stretched between them.

"I'm catching the evening tide," Kael said finally. "Northbound. Maybe Kelthara, maybe further. Doesn't matter as long as it's away from here."

He shouldered his pack and headed for the stairs.

At the entrance, he stopped without turning around.

"Elysia."

She looked up.

"I hope it was worth it. Whatever you felt when you held that dagger. I hope it was worth Bramm's life."

He left.

The hideout felt enormous and empty without his presence.

Thira sat back down, staring at the space where Kael had been.

"He's right, you know," she said quietly.

Elysia felt the last bit of fight drain out of her. "I know."

"Bramm's dead because we stole from the wrong people. And we stole from the wrong people because you wanted to keep a pretty dagger."

"I know."

"And now Kael's gone. And tomorrow, or the next day, they'll probably come for us too."

Elysia couldn't speak.

Thira looked at her then, really looked at her. Her eyes were red from crying, but her voice was steady.

"I love you," she said simply. "I have for months. Maybe longer. And that's why this hurts so much."

Elysia's breath caught.

"Because I can see what you're becoming," Thira continued. "And I can see what you're choosing. And it's not me. It's not us. It's the thrill. The danger. The next score, the next risk, the next chance to feel alive."

She stood.

"So I'm giving you a choice. Come with me. Tonight. We leave Empyria, find somewhere quiet, somewhere safe. Somewhere we can be normal people who don't have to check shadows and sleep with knives under our pillows."

She moved toward the stairs.

"Or stay. Keep playing your games with killers and thieves. Keep chasing that feeling you get when you're one mistake away from death."

At the entrance, she paused.

"But choose. Because I can't watch you burn anymore. And I can't let you burn me with you."

She left Elysia alone in the flickering lamplight, surrounded by the ghosts of what they'd been.

The Docks

Evening

The sky bled red and gold as the tide rolled in. Ships groaned against their moorings, their masts swaying like drunken dancers.

Elysia found Kael at the northern pier, standing beside a weather-beaten merchant vessel. His pack sat at his feet. He didn't look surprised to see her.

"Come to say goodbye?" he asked without turning around.

"Come to apologize."

That made him look. His eyes were red-rimmed but dry.

"Keep it," he said. "Apologies won't bring him back."

They stood in silence, watching sailors prepare the ship for departure. The wind carried the smell of salt and fish and tar.

"Do you remember," Elysia said quietly, "the first job we pulled together? That silk merchant on Goldwater Street?"

Kael's mouth twitched despite himself. "Bramm got stuck in the window."

"Took all three of us to pull him through. He was so embarrassed he didn't speak to us for a week."

"Until that guard patrol found us in the alley. Then he threw himself at four armed men just to give us time to run."

They were both smiling now, sad and broken but smiling.

"He was brave," Elysia said.

"He was stupid," Kael replied. "But so were we. That's what made us good together."

The ship's captain called for final boarding.

Kael picked up his pack.

"Elysia."

She looked at him.

"I meant what I said. About it being your fault. But..."

He struggled with the words.

"But I should have tried harder to stop you. We all should have. We knew what you were like. We knew you'd push too far eventually. And we let you because... because you made us feel alive. Made us feel like we were part of something bigger than just surviving."

He stepped onto the gangplank.

"Maybe that makes us all responsible."

The ship pulled away into the darkening harbor, taking Kael with it.

Elysia stood alone on the pier until the lanterns were just distant stars on the water.

When she turned to leave, Thira was waiting.

"Well?" Thira asked.

Elysia looked at her. Really looked. At the woman who'd followed her into danger time and again. Who'd patched her wounds and shared her bed and offered her a different kind of life.

Who was still offering, even now.

"I don't know how to be normal," Elysia said.

"We could learn together."

The words hung between them like a bridge. All Elysia had to do was cross.

Instead, she shook her head.

"I can't. Not yet. There's something I have to do first."

Thira's face closed off. "What?"

"I have to make this right. Bramm's death, Kael leaving, all of it. I have to—"

"You have to get revenge." Thira's voice was flat. "You're going after the Conclave."

Elysia didn't deny it.

Thira nodded slowly, like she'd expected this.

"Then I guess you've made your choice."

She turned to leave, then stopped.

"When you're done getting yourself killed for nothing," she said without looking back, "I'll be in Millbrook. My sister has a farm there. Quiet place. Safe."

She walked away, her footsteps echoing on the wooden pier.

Elysia watched her go until the shadows swallowed her.

Then she was truly alone.

The dagger might be gone, returned to its owners. But the hunger it had awakened—the need for something more than safety, more than normal—that was still there.

Burning in her chest like a second heart.

The Conclave had taken everything from her.

Now she would return the favor.

Even if it killed her.

Especially if it killed her.