Shadows in Plain Sight

Morning sunlight spilled over through the high windows of the Adventurer’s Guild, casting long rectangles of gold across the oak floor. The air carried the smell of roasted bread from the kitchens, mingling with the sharper scents of oiled leather and iron. Mugs clinked, dice rattled on tabletops, and the low hum of overlapping conversations filled with the cavernous hall. Somewhere in the corner, a bard strummed a lazy tune, his voice barely audible over the rest. Daelric’s boots left faint, grey marks on the polished wood – ash still clinging to them from the night before. 

His forearm was wrapped in clean white bandages, and the slight stiffness in his movements betrayed a wound not fully healed. Kaori, walking beside him, still bore smudges along her cheekbone, as though the soot had been stubborn enough to resist washing. Her braid was a little uneven today – rare for her – a quiet proof that exhaustion had outpaced vanity.

Between them, Luneth moved without the heaviness of fatigue. Her steps were unhurried, deliberate, the fall of her boots barely audible even in the crowded hall. Her hair, tied back with a simple clasp, caught strands of light that danced like slivers of silver whenever she passed a sunlit patch. They approached the counter, where the guild clerk’s face brightened at the sight of them.

“Back already? S-rank efficiency, as always,” she said, sliding a small chest forward. The hinges creaked faintly as she opened it, revealing the glint of gold coins stacked in neat columns.

“Barely back,” Daelric said with a tired grin, leaning slightly on the counter. “Next time, maybe send someone else after the big ones, eh?”

“You’d be bored in a week,” Kaori murmured, brushing a few strands of hair from her face.

The clerk laughed, setting parchment on the counter for their completion signatures. “Another flawless job. Reports say demon activities dropped in the northern sector – at least for now.”

“Until the next wave,” Kaori replied, voice steady but with the faintest shadow of foreknowledge. 

Luneth accepted her share of the gold with a polite nod, her fingers curling lightly around the weight. She didn’t linger at the counter. Instead, she stepped back, eyes sweeping the room.

To most, it might look like she was taking in the lively bustle of the guild. But her gaze of a proud adventurer – it was sharper, colder, sliding over the faces like a jeweller weighing the worth of stones. For a fraction of a second, her eyes caught on the job board, where a young guild assistant pinned fresh notices. Her lips curved almost imperceptibly before she turned away.

The Kingdom’s Heart

Far from the noise and laughter, the royal court of Neverland was place where voices did not rise without reason. The council chamber was long and high-ceilinged, lined with tall windows draped in heavy velvet. Candles burned in tall brass stands, their flames steady in the still air.

The king sat at the head of a table that stretched nearly the length of the room. Maps, some marked in ink, others in chalk, lay spread before him.

Lord Revan, the kingdom’s senior strategist, leaned forward, one finger tracing a series of red marks across the parchment. 

“The attacks are no longer random. Three towns gone in the last month – erased overnight. No survivors. It’s not hunting, it’s placement.”

A court mage adjusted his spectacles, pointing at the curve of the attack route. “If the pattern continues, the outer defences will be reached within two months. Less, if they adjust course.”

Another advisor – thin, sharp-eyed – spoke with a tone edged in urgency. “We should conscript more mages from the southern academies. And perhaps… review the dismissed candidates. Even those considered untested.”

The King’s hands tightened on the arms of his chair. “We will not waste resources on the powerless. Those who failed the measure once will fail again. Powerless bodies only fill graves.” The statement hung in the room like the clang of a closing gate. Some glanced away, others pressed their lips thin – but none challenged him outright. The King had spoken with the weight of memory, and in that memory lingered the shadow of a boy who once stood in this hall and was told he had nothing worth keeping.

Maps were folded, arguments deferred. No one in the chamber realized that the pieces they moved across the board were not their own to command. 

The Streets

By the time Luneth left the guild, the streets of Neverland were alive in full. Stalls bloomed along the cobblestone road, spilling bolts of bright fabric that fluttered in the late morning breeze. Vendors called over each other’s voices, their cries mixing with the metallic ring of a distant hammer striking steel, Children darted between carts, chasing a painted wooden hoop that rolled with surprising speed.

Luneth’s pace was even. Unhurried. She stopped to inspect a tray of polished stones, each catching light differently as she tilted in her hand.

“Something for the home?” the merchant asked.

“Something for later,” she said softly, placing two small stones into a pouch at her belt.

A little further down, she examined a row of glass bottles filled with shimmering dust, selecting three without hesitation. At a silverworker’s stall, she brushed her fingers over charms shaped like leaves, animals, and abstract symbols. She took three – their forms mismatched, but their weights perfectly balanced.

To anyone watching, she was merely a traveler indulging in small luxuries. But the way she weighed each choice, the precision of her selection, hinted at a pattern no passerby would understand.

She paused at a narrow shop window where a tall mirror leaned against the wall. For a moment, her reflection looked back at her through the blur of movement behind. Her expression gives away nothing.

The road outside the city walls was quiet under a pale sky. A group of mercenaries trudged along the forest trail, their breath misting in the cold air. Two large demon corpses lay lashed to their wagons, the smell of iron and decay heavy around them. High above, half-hidden in the canopy’s shadows, a cloaked figure watched. Their presence was a stillness – the kind of stillness the forest doesn’t question until it’s gone.

The mercenaries spoke in low voices about the bounty these corpses would bring, unaware of how their path seemed almost… guided. Every turn they took was the easier one, the smoother one, as if someone had walked it before them without leaving prints. 

Two city guards appeared ahead on the path, lanterns swinging. The moment their light reached the place where the figure had stood – the space was empty Only a single leaf fell, turning in the air before touching the ground.

The same cloaked figure emerged later in the narrow alleys of the lower district.The brushed past a lone mage muttering in a forbidden tongue, sliding a folded note into the mage’s pocket without slowing their pace. 

They paused beside an unmarked caravan being loaded under and torchlight. One crate was removed and replaced with another – the exchange so quick the driver never looked up. 

At the far end of the alley, a merchant counted coins at his desk. When he looked away to pour drink, a sealed letter appeared among his stacks of parchment, marked with a crest unfamiliar to the city. Each act was small. Unremarkable. But together, they formed a design as deliberate as a spell circle drawn in sand.

The inn’s common room glowed with firelight. Laughter from Kaori and Daelric mingled with the hum of other patrons, the air thick with the scent of spiced wine and roasted meat. Luneth sat with them at the corner table, her chair angled slightly toward the wall. The others leaned in toward the warmth of the hearth, mugs in hand.

On their table, a small candle flickered in its holder, the wax pooled deep around the wick.

Daelric was telling some embellished story about a job year’s back, Kaori laughing despite shaking her head at his exaggerations. Luneth’s gaze didn’t leave the flame.

For a moment, the voices around her faded – the laughter, the clinking of mugs, the crackle of the fire. All that remained was the quiet sound of her own breath and the steady dance of the light before her.

Not yet.

Without looking away from the others, she leaned forward and blew out the candle.

The table dimmed, shadows shifting across their faces. Kaori glanced at the flame’s absence but said nothing.

Luneth sat back, her eyes calm.

The darkness stayed.