CHAPTER 13 â BIRTHRIGHT TO FREEDOM: PART V
Day 232 of the Twelvefold Cycle Era of Concordance, Year 812
Pre Dawn â Flamerest (September), Black Fang â Back Alleys âSouth Fang
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Rain hammered the cobblestones, pooling in uneven patches along the cracked flagstones of South Fangâs maze of back alleys. Distant thunder rumbled over Black Fangâs rooftops, echoing between the high, curved arches that split the cityâs four great districts Trader Fang to the south, with its sprawling market lights still flickering even at this hour; the Arena Fang to the east, domed and silent for now but promising bloodsport with the dawn; the Political Fang to the west, shielded by walled estates and red-glass lamps; and the North Fang, the cityâs sealed heart, where every gate was watched and every crossing taxed by Syndicate guards in velvet-trimmed cloaks.
But here, far from any grand avenue, the alleys were chaos shadows alive with movement, voices bouncing between the slick walls of forgotten inns and storerooms. Ruki and Willow moved at a hard, determined pace, Willow at the lead, ducking beneath sagging laundry lines and swerving around heaps of fish crates dumped from the nightâs last market run. Their boots splashed through runoff that stank of wet stone and horsesweat, the air thick with the salt of old blood and the sharp tang of ozone left by spent magic. All around them, lanterns swung on damp ropes, and the cries of late-shift porters blended with the calls of fishmongers already laying out their stalls for Flamerestâs first market crowd. Somewhere above, the cityâs guttering lamps blinked against the steady downpour, painting every alley in dull orange and ghostly blue.
Behind them, the roar of the cityâs new rumor spread like fire, panic, curiosity, and fear threading together in a current that pulled at every onlooker. They could hear the chaos crackling out from the heart of South Fang, voices rising over the rooftops and spilling into the maze of lanes that cut through Black Fangâs veins. Guards in mismatched armor and rough blue tabards, some of them Syndicate, some Order of the Fang, barked at one another as they searched the shadows with swinging lanterns. The shouts grew sharper as more boots joined the hunt.
âMen, hustle to the South Fang! We need to make sure every inch of the place is secured. We cannot afford for one of those beasts to go loose!â a heavyset manâs voice thundered, full of authority but thin with nerves, echoing down the nearest street as he motioned two younger guards to follow. They stamped their feet and vanished around the corner, splashing water up against the stone.
Another voice, sharper, laced with that usual venom reserved for the cityâs outcasts, snapped: âThe Only place those creatures can be hiding is that famous tavern owned by that beast lover, Selene, and the Elders of Trials champion, Ethel! But that doesnât mean they can break the law by casting stuff like that. There needs to be an explanation.â The words cut through the rain, trailing off as the group fanned out in different directions, the sound of their armor scraping brick and puddles sloshing underfoot.
A third guard, younger, voice trembling: âCan we even catch her after what just happened? Did you see what she did? That was Crest magic Tier Seven, maybe. Iâm not looking to get cooked for chasing some kid with the city burning downâ¦â He hesitated, falling behind as the others pushed on, fear breaking his discipline.
The shouts echoed, boots pounding, lantern-light flickering through the gaps in broken fences and over the faces of those huddled against the storm. The whole quarter felt alive and raw, merchants dragging their wares back inside, a pair of lizardkin porters arguing over a broken handcart, the bray of a city mount somewhere close, and the muffled sobs of a young beastkin pressed into the shadow of a doorway. The night was alive with both hope and threat, the kind of energy only Black Fang could stir.
As they pressed deeper, the cityâs reality came into sharper focus. Rukiâs breath came ragged, each inhale cut by the sharp tang of oil and distant smoke, her cloak clinging tight to her shoulders, and every muscle protesting with each step. With every blink, the memory of the ring, Mist, lightning, and the crackling taste of copper on her tongue haunted her mind. The fight replayed in flashes: Juizioâs laughter, the wild hum of her field spell, the world collapsing into a tunnel of noise and pain. She wasnât sure if sheâd helped them or doomed them, and the weight of that uncertainty pressed down harder than the rain. Damn, that was crazy⦠I wasnât expecting that at all, she mumbled to herself, voice lost in the noise as another distant shout broke through the cityâs nerves.
The alleys grew tighter, walls pinching close and shadows crowding around every pile of rubbish and huddled body. There under a sagging tarp, a pair of beastkin kids, collars gleaming faintly in the half-light, were herded roughly by an older human, his grip tight on their makeshift leashes. Another group of lizardfolk family huddled together beneath an overhang, the most minor child peeking out with bright, fearful eyes. No one in these backstreets dared call out to the guards; too many knew what happened when the wrong question found the bad ear.
Somewhere nearby, the scuff of boots and the dull clank of chains mixed with the low murmur of a Syndicate patrol. âDonât let any of âem slip through,â a low voice muttered. âVictor wants this city clean by dawn. Doesnât matter how.â
Ruki shivered, hearing her own name whispered with every echo, the cityâs rumor mill already feeding on the chaos sheâd left behind. Her thoughts twisted with doubt. Was this the right call? Am I just making it worse? Did I help them, or just paint a bigger target? Before a presence stirred at the edge of her mind. Mar-Marâs voice came, deep as thunder and old as myth: âCalm yourself, Ruki⦠Your new allies are not weak. They have been fighting this battle longer than you have faith. If you and that tavern woman made a plan, trust that they have something up their sleeve, too. I chose you for a reason. I donât follow those who second-guess every step. Stand by your choice and move forward. The world will not wait for you to feel ready.â
The words settled her nerves, not comfort, but the grounding force of mythic wisdom. Mar-Mar was back, his intelligence and memory tied to hers, letting her know she wasnât walking blind. For a heartbeat, the fear receded, replaced by stubborn resolve.
Before Ruki could fully answer that voice, Willow suddenly jolted to a stop, nearly causing Ruki to collide with her. The sharpness of Willowâs movement cut through Rukiâs haze. They ducked beneath the overhang of a shuttered shop, rain pounding down around them, water running in sheets from the broken gutter overhead.
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âWe stop here,â Willow said, her usual sarcastic humor and playful edge cut off by the weight of the night. She turned to face Ruki, hood pulled back to show her half-goblin features, hair plastered to her forehead by rain and sweat, eyes glinting with something halfway between gratitude and warning.
âI want to first say thank you for saving my life,â Willow began, voice quiet but edged with honesty. âYou didnât need to risk everything for a stranger, let alone a half-blood like me, yet you did. But Iâm not one to follow around and dig into shit thatâs not my own⦠clearly I have my own issues.â She thumbed the scroll sheâd snatched from Malfur, glancing away as if the words on it burned. âIâve seen some crazy, powerful shit in my life, and I can easily say⦠You arenât from here. I donât know what you are, but I will say one thing: I know a person who might be able to help you get some closure, maybe some information⦠But that doesnât come cheap. I can lead you to them to save my life, but I wonât follow you after that.â Her voice dropped as she studied Ruki, measuring her as a player and a risk. âI do have information that may help as well, but⦠if you want my help, I need you to promise youâll help me when the time comes.â The real hand of Willow was revealed: her honesty, her desperation, her unspoken debts, all wrapped in a single ask.
Ruki looked at the scheming half-goblin, the cityâs rain-slicked light catching in Willowâs mismatched eyes. The request made her anxious, a promise with hidden terms, and yet she knew she needed all the allies she could get, with Mar-Mar only just returned and the city now alive with her name. Do I really have a choice? she wondered, chest tightening as her mind flashed back to the days when every deal was made in desperation, never for freedom. Room 406⦠never again.
âSure,â Ruki said, voice low, a hint of steel threading through. âBut it will be my way. I donât follow anyoneâs orders.â She wasnât defiant, not precisely, but the words rang with the certainty of someone whoâd had enough of being caged, used, or traded. If she was going to walk into Black Fangâs shadows, it would be by her own steps, not as anyoneâs pawn.
Willow watched her for a long moment, the rain pounding around them, before a quick, wry smile flickered to her lips. âGood. Didnât want another puppet anyway. Iâll take you as far as the docks, then the rest is up to you. Docks are neutral ground, mostly. My guyâs a dwarf, runs the back end. You get on his good side, youâll last a night. Get on his bad side, and not even the Syndicate will find you. Letâs go before they close the wharf for morning patrol.â She hesitated, eyes scanning the alley, then added, âYou got one shot at this, so donât waste it.â
Ruki nodded, feeling the weight of the deal settle on her shoulders, but at least it was a burden she chose. As they started moving again, the cityâs life pressed close voices shouting orders, the distant clatter of a merchant cart, the faint bell of a river ferry drifting from the heart of the cityâs split. Rain ran down the worn stone, dripping from the hoods of a pair of lizardkin porters pushing a heavy trunk into a side door. A vendor with a toothless smile shouted last calls from beneath an awning crowded with street kids.
They melted into the maze of Black Fang, two silhouettes in a city that, for all its splendor and danger, never truly slept, a world balanced between freedom and captivity, where every promise, every favor, was the start of a new chain
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MEANWHILE -- WHINING MOON COURTYARD
Lightning scars still burned overhead, splintering the bruised pre-dawn sky above South Fang. Half the city had witnessed the spectacle: a spectral wolfâs jaw gnawing at the storm clouds, runes of light branding the night. The ground below told its story: stone tiles shattered, mud and blood churned into a ruined lattice. Juizio knelt at the center, arms shackled by Seleneâs glowing spell-ring, rain streaming down his fur as Order of the Fang officers fanned out, weapons drawn and faces wary.
Selene stood over him, her hair plastered to her scalp, her voice flat but commanding. âHeâs sealed. The Beastkin girl cast the spell alone; no one from this tavern abetted her. Juizio defended the Whining Moon. If you want someone to blame, look to the one who nearly broke your district in half, not us.â Her words rang through the courtyard, cold and measured, every syllable an iron lock against suspicion.
Victor stalked the ruin, boots splashing through puddles streaked with ash. His glare swept the devastation, jaw set, mind already tallying both the cost and the opportunity. A Crestbound Tier 7 nobodyâs seen that kind of power in Black Fang since the last war. She nearly leveled the whole south district, and she did it solo. If I get her alive, the entire city bends. He let the thought hang as he flicked his gaze across Selene and the battered stone, searching for any crack in her story. He could smell bullshit, but not enough to press charges yet.
He spat into the mud, eyes glinting with malice. âConvenient, this hero act. That spell nearly wiped us all out. You telling me you didnât back her?â
Selene met his stare, not flinching an inch. âIâm telling you my story. Itâs the only one the city will hear, and the Gazetteâs witness stands by every word.â
Toshiro stepped forward, parchment already soft and streaked with rain, Gazette badge raised. âI swear by the Twelve Lords, I saw it with my eyes. The Whining Moon is clean. The girl went rogue, no one else.â
A low, wet growl rolled from Juizio, shackles biting into his wrists as he locked eyes with Victor. âYouâre so desperate for control, but that girl? She wonât take orders from you. If youâre cocky enough to try, youâll get your ass handed to you. Without your men, youâre nothing but a weak bitch.â His laughter echoed across the tiles, more wild than angry, a flash of pride in the aftermath of chaos.
Victorâs lips curled into a sneer. âSheâs just a fugitive now. I will control her. I own this city. And as for your kind watch your tongue, mutt.â He spat again, close enough for Juizio to bristle, but the spell-ring held. The hate between them felt sharp as glass. Victor jerked his head, sending his men out to sweep the wreckage, every step echoing the promise of a more extended, bloodier hunt. Let the council whine, let the lords bark. When I bring her in, nobody will question who runs Black Fang, he told himself, eyes already scanning for a trail.
From the shadowed archway, Kaelira watched, her cloak drawn tight, eyes narrowed, reading every lie and every gesture Selene bought with her composure. As soon as Victorâs attention drifted, she slipped away, silent as a breath, already following the faint magical trail the shade sigil Ruki bore was her beacon. She would not leave the city until she found her.
Selene pressed the sealing ring harder, never looking away from Victor. âBe careful how you treat him. Heâs a free man. I can press charges, mayor or not. Youâre not above the law, and as a noble, I outrank you here. Move along unless you have something to prove.â Her words were icy, her patience thinning with every second in the ruined yard.
Victor only scowled, rain dripping down his brow. The hunt was on. She already made her move at my gates⦠I gave her four days to bring herself to me. Now I begin the hunt.
Above them, the last lightning faded, the sky stained with runes that would not be forgotten. All across Black Fang, rumors ignited about the girl who defied an entire city, the spell that nearly devoured the south district, and the mayor who wanted her as both a weapon and a prize.
END OF ARC II -- ARC III BEGINS SOON
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