Nathan watched the man disappear into the shimmer of the midday traffic, the crowd swallowing him whole like the city never noticed.
"Strange fellow," he muttered.
Raphael glanced sideways. "You collecting cryptic men now, or was that a one-time special?"
Nathan scoffed. "Weird people tend to bump into me. It's like I attract them."
Raphael smirked. "You are a weird person, Nate. Like calls to like."
Nathan let that pass, tucking his hands into his coat pockets as they continued down the sun-drenched avenue. He nodded at a street performer mid-act, who juggled four balls of sunlight that hummed harmonically every time they hit the air.
"Remind me again," Nathan asked, "why are we the ones doing this grunt work? Thought the Lunaris Council had whole squads for relic-hunting."
"Because you don't play well with others," Raphael replied easily. "And me? I'm a sucker for punishment."
"You just like the adrenaline."
"No," Raphael grinned, "I like the explosions. Adrenaline's just the seasoning."
Nathan chuckled under his breath. "You're insane."
"Maybe. But I'm your only friend, so you're stuck with me."
They walked a few more steps before Raphael slowed, checking a message rune on his wrist. It glowed blue for a second before dimming out.
"Ah—damn. I gotta head."
Nathan arched a brow. "Now?"
Raphael sighed. "Family meeting. You know how it is. Leywins don't exactly do casual brunch."
Nathan nodded. "Right. The mighty Leywin household. Crown jewel of the Lunaris elite. Must be exhausting being born perfect."
"Hey," Raphael said, grinning, "I'm the youngest, remember? That means I'm either the disappointment or the surprise blessing. Depends on the week."
"You're definitely the disappointment."
"I'll take it," Raphael said with a short laugh, already turning away. "Don't get yourself killed while I'm gone. And don't chase any mysterious top hat men into dark alleys."
"No promises."
Raphael saluted lazily. "See you around, Rogue Detective."
Nathan watched him vanish into the crowd. It was hard not to respect Raphael—growing up with the pressure of being the youngest in the most revered bloodline in Lunaris, with everyone watching to see if you'd rise or collapse. Nathan didn't envy that kind of legacy.
His own legacy? Questions no one wanted answered.
He sighed, glancing at the glowing map etched into the stone post nearby.
Eastern Aerenthal. Cathedral Ruins.
There had been whispers. Strange energy readings. One of the old relics, maybe.
Nathan's lips twitched.
"Guess it's time for some archaeology."
****
"Remind me again why all the creepy places are always east of something?" Nathan muttered, kicking a loose stone off the path.
The cab driver beside him gave a tight chuckle. "That's Helmond for you. Whole place feels like it's holdin' its breath. You sure you wanna get dropped this close to the ruin?"
"Yeah. I'm the kind of idiot who walks toward cursed cathedrals."
The driver raised a brow. "Not much left in there since the Ash Veil went mad with holy fire. But suit yourself, detective."
Nathan gave him a half-smile and stepped out. The cab rolled off, tires crunching on gravel, leaving behind the silence of a place that had forgotten how to breathe.
Wind whistled low through the old district—winding alleys, moss-cloaked walls, stone balconies sagging under time. A trio of kids played with floating marbles down the road, the orbs humming with faint light. One of the children stopped and stared as Nathan passed.
"You going to the ruin?" she asked, voice small.
"Why?" Nathan paused.
"People say ghosts whisper there."
He tipped two fingers to his brow. "Then I'll whisper back."
The girl blinked. "That's what the last one said."
Nathan frowned slightly, then turned and kept walking. "Great. I'm apparently predictable now."
The ruin loomed soon enough—gray stone, half-collapsed towers, a shattered sunburst window like broken teeth against the sky. The remnants of the once-holy Cathedral of the Sun.
Nathan stepped through the ruined threshold, the shift in the air immediate. Warmth drained. The light dimmed, as if even the sun was reluctant to shine here.
"Home sweet haunted chapel," he muttered, crouching near the crumbled altar.
His fingers brushed something beneath a loose tile. Cold. Metallic.
He pulled out a thin shard, engraved with a solar insignia, humming softly at his touch.
"Looks like the rumors weren't all hot air."
Then a voice slithered into his mind—not from around him, but within.
> "He sees through flame. And waits beneath light."
Nathan stood fast, blade half-drawn. But there was no one.
Nothing.
Just the bones of a ruined faith and a wind that didn't know how to move on.
He glanced down at the relic again. "You better be worth the headache."
A sudden clang behind him.
He whirled.
A small, dark-feathered bird had knocked over a bit of loose stone and now sat calmly on the edge of a broken pew, watching him with unblinking eyes.
Nathan narrowed his gaze. "You better not be the whispering type."
The bird blinked.
He tucked the relic into his coat, gave the ruin one last sweeping glance, and turned back toward the path.
"You found what you needed?" the same little girl from earlier asked, now sitting on a step outside the ruin.
Nathan blinked. "How long have you been there?"
She shrugged. "Long enough."
"Right." He sighed, pulling up his collar. "Don't talk to strangers, kid."
She smiled. "Then stop talking to me, detective."
He squinted at her as he walked away.
Behind him, the ruin creaked softly.
Something watched.
But Nathan didn't look back.
Crunch.
Nathan paused mid-step.
He didn't look back. Not yet. But that sound—light, almost careful—had been trailing him for a while now. Always just out of reach.
He kept walking slowly, hands in pockets, boots grazing the old road littered with petals and glass pebbles that shimmered like little suns. The children had vanished. The ruin was long behind him. The wind now whispered something colder.
Crunch.
He veered slightly off the path, towards a copse of twisted trees. The branches above were gnarled, scorched in places, leftovers from whatever holy war once touched this region.
And still...
Crunch.
Gotcha.
Nathan suddenly stepped off the road, slipped between the trees, and vanished into shadow.
The follower hesitated.
Then came closer.
Nathan waited silently, his hand already near the blade at his side. As the figure crossed a beam of dying sunlight, Nathan stepped out behind him.
Steel flashed. The stranger barely had time to breathe.
"Last step you'll ever take, unless you explain why you've been tailing me," Nathan said lowly, voice hard as flint, blade at the man's throat.
The figure froze.
Then slowly, he raised both hands.
"No need for that, detective. We've already met."
Nathan blinked.
The top hat.
The black suit.
The amused, unbothered smile.
"You."
The stranger chuckled lightly, his voice smooth like velvet soaked in wine. "I hoped for a more cheerful reunion, but then again, you've got a flair for the dramatic."
Nathan didn't lower the blade. "Why are you following me?"
"Because, dear Nathan…" The man adjusted his cravat, even with the steel still close. "I was sent to."
"By who?"
The stranger gave a mock-pained sigh. "That's complicated."
Nathan's eyes narrowed. "You're with the Lunaris Council?"
"Not with," the stranger corrected with a finger wag. "Let's just say… attached. Temporarily. You can call me Sir Failure's interest in you, embodied."
Nathan lowered the blade a fraction. "So you're my partner?"
"Exactly!" The man beamed, as if he'd just been invited to tea. "Oh, I'm thrilled you're catching on. Though I admit, the whole shadowy entrance thing may have been a bit much. But subtlety's a dying art."
Nathan stepped back, sheathing the blade, his brow furrowed. "You tailed me across cities just to make an entrance?"
"Would you have listened otherwise?"
Nathan gave him a long, hard look. "No."
"There you have it."
The stranger tipped his hat with a grin. "Now, shall we have a proper introduction? You may call me Michael. Or nothing at all, if you prefer."
Nathan crossed his arms. "Fine. Michael. First rule—don't follow me without saying something. Second—no secrets."
Michael arched a brow. "Then we're going to have a very difficult partnership."
Nathan sighed. "Welcome to the job."
The wind shifted again.
And far off, the ruins behind them groaned.
Michael turned toward it, eyes narrowing slightly. "Did you take anything from there?"
"Relic fragment," Nathan answered. "Old symbol. Burned with solar runes."
Michael didn't smile this time. "Then we may have company soon."
Nathan looked at him. "You knew something like this would happen?"
"I suspected. The Ash Veil may have left, but their stains remain."
Nathan turned back toward the city's distant lights. "Come on. If something's coming, we'll be ready."
Michael followed, voice light once again. "Adventure, at last."
Michael stopped. "Someone's here."
Nathan squinted ahead. "I see him."
At the altar, a ragged priest knelt. His robes were stained, torn. His hands trembled mid-prayer, voice muttering in an old tongue — unnatural, twisted. His skin cracked with glowing gold veins, his breath heavy, unholy.
Nathan's grip tightened around his blade. "That's not prayer. That's corruption."
He stepped forward, ready to end it—
Michael blocked him with an arm. "No. Let me handle this."
Nathan frowned. "Michael—this isn't a performance."
Michael didn't answer. He reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek deck of cards. Each one glinted silver along the edges, marked with faint sigils.
Nathan stepped back cautiously, watching.
Michael threw three cards into the air. They spun, suspended.
The corrupted priest rose with a scream, his body warping, eyes blazing like miniature suns. His mouth opened far too wide, cracking his jawbone, voice shrieking in a warped echo.
The first card lit up — WHAM — a roaring lion made of silver flame shot forward and struck the creature.
The second snapped into light — the ground cracked, golden chains wrapped around the priest's arms and legs.
The third split open midair — and with a single flash of white—
BOOM.
The corrupted priest collapsed into dust.
Silence followed.
Nathan exhaled slowly. "You just killed a priest with… cards."
Michael calmly caught the remaining card pieces midair and pocketed them. "Corrupted priest."
Nathan grunted. "Still impressive."
They turned to leave—
But then—
A slow clap echoed through the ruins.
From the far end of the hall, a tall figure emerged from the broken archway. Cloaked in black, masked in white with a blood-red slit running down the center. No symbols. No insignias. Just presence.
Nathan raised his blade without a word.
The figure walked toward the ashes, stared down at what remained of the priest.
Then spoke.
"They sent you to clean this up? Hm."
Nathan narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
The masked figure didn't answer.
Instead, they stepped forward slowly, voice low.
"Black… Do you even know who you're working for?"
Nathan didn't flinch. "That's none of your concern."
The masked figure chuckled lightly. "It should be. The Lunaris Council is good at hiding rot behind clean curtains."
Michael stepped beside him, eyes sharp. "You have ten seconds to leave."
The figure didn't move.
"They fear the truth coming out. That's why they're using you."
Nathan's expression hardened. "I chose this. No one's using me."
The masked figure finally turned.
"Believe what you need to sleep at night."
And as they walked away, voice echoing one last time….
"When the truth hits you, Nathan Black… don't look for us. We'll be looking for you."
They vanished into shadow.
Nathan stood in silence.
Michael said nothing for a moment. Then….
"You alright?"
Nathan nodded once, slowly.
"Yeah. Just thinking."