Bait

The docks district reeked of moisture and damaged wood, the kind that came from wood that had been soaked too long in saltwater and left to fester. The journey to the meeting place was long and quiet, and although the city carried its usual noise behind them, here it was different, but they couldn't figure out why. Lanterns swayed against the wind, throwing weak light across pooled-up water on the ground.

None of them uttered more than a heavy breath as they got closer. They didn’t need to. Each footstep brought them closer to what they had already admitted was a trap. Yet none of them turned back. The warehouse loomed before them soon enough. It wasn’t much different from the others in the row—grey, two storeys, the roof caving slightly under years of weather, a row of long windows blocked by wooden shutters.

A faint yellow glow fell out through the cracks. This one had a faint murmur of voices leaking from somewhere inside and the clattering of steel on stone bounced around. Miyako crouched them into the shadow of a stack of barrels, pulling her hood low. Hibiki muttered under his breath, cursing the damp as if it were intentional. Alice stood close, clutching the strap of her crossbow tight to her chest. Her bloom sat against her breast pocket, and Ren could see it trembling as if it too was aware of current events. “Six, I think. The robes are different; they look religious, a cult maybe?” Miyako whispered, peering around the corner through a rusted hole. Her voice was a cold quiet. “Six inside. Maybe more hiding.”

“Not as many as I expected,” Hibiki grunted, keeping his weapon resting on his shoulder. He sounded confident, but Ren could hear the nerves in his voice. “We go as planned,” Miyako said. Her eyes flicked between them. “Ren, you and Alice take the front. Keep their attention. Hibiki throws smoke—when they’re distracted, I’ll circle to the side entrance and put the caltrops down. It’ll trap anyone trying to run. We hit hard and fast and finish it before anyone else shows up.” Ren swallowed.

His sword felt heavier than it should have, though the gauntlet on his other hand gave him some reassurance. Alice nodded quickly, too quickly, the crossbow trembling in her hands. Hibiki chuckled darkly and pulled a small cloth bag from his belt, the clinking inside betraying the half-dozen smoke bombs he’d made the merchant give up. “It’s about time I get to use these.”

Ren leaned against the wood, staring at the light spilling through the cracks. “And if there are more than six?” Miyako’s face didn’t move. “Then we kill more than six.” The inside of the warehouse was worse. Damp stained the walls with black streaks, mold spread in veins across the rafters, and water dripped from beams to the floor, forming stagnant puddles that reeked of rot. The lanterns swung faintly from ropes tied too loose, their flames guttering, throwing shadows that stretched and snapped back again. And in the centre of the room, tied to a chair with thick rope, was Darius.

He was beaten nearly senseless. Blood ran dry across his temple, his lip split, and one eye swollen shut. His chest rose and fell shallow, but when his head lifted slightly at the noise, his eyes burnt. “You idiots,” he croaked, blood flecking the word. “You actually came.” Ren’s heart kicked. Hibiki shifted forward without thinking, rage already pulling him closer. But Miyako’s arm stopped him, her knife pressed in her other hand, ready.

Around Darius stood five cultists, robes black and damp, their collars heavy with rosaries that clinked with every breath. Each carried a blade of some kind, though none were polished—they were crude, rust-stained, and jagged, like tools dragged from grave dirt. One of them was muttering, a low chant, the words unsteady but constant, while the others glanced at each other with faint nods as if waiting for something.

Hibiki didn’t wait. His hand yanked a smoke bomb from the pouch, and before Miyako could stop him, he hurled it forward with a violent curse. “HAVE THIS!” The bomb cracked against the floorboards and split, choking white smoke erupting in an instant. The cultists staggered, coughing, waving their arms. Darius let out a bitter laugh even as blood dripped down his chin. The smoke was Hibiki’s signal. Miyako darted to the side, moving quick and low, her pouch of caltrops spilling with a flick of her wrist, scattering sharp iron teeth across the floor by the side exit. She vanished into the haze, knives already drawn.

Ren charged through the smoke, sword gripped tight. The first cultist stumbled out of the haze, coughing, blade swinging wildly. Ren’s gauntlet met the strike, catching the edge before it could cut him, and his sword ran the man through with a sickening crunch. He shoved him back into the smoke, blood trailing in his wake. Alice was stuck under the doorframe, paralysed by fear, yet still raised her trembling arms up, her entire mind focused on remembering what she practised. Almost simultaneously as a cultist spotted her, a crack resounded from the string and a bolt split through the air, knocking all sound from their lungs. They were dead instantly.

Spit shot out of Hibiki’s mouth as he swung the morning star into a hooded skull, the crack of bone echoing louder than the cultist’s final scream. The weapon dragged him down, blood spraying, and Hibiki yanked it free with a curse, already looking for another target. Knives whistled through the smoke—Miyako’s knives. Two of them struck a cultist in the ribs; another slammed into his thigh. He fell to the ground clutching at the wounds just in time for Hibiki’s weapon to smash his jaw into silence.

The fifth cultist charged Alice, a curved blade flashing. She screamed, bolt half-loaded, stumbling back. Ren slammed forward, his gauntlet hand catching the man’s wrist before the blade could land, his sword cutting the man clean across the throat. Blood sprayed across the dirt and Alice’s hands, making her drop the half-loaded bolt with a shriek. It wasn’t long and the quiet took over. The smoke thinned, drifting up into the rafters. Five bodies lay scattered across the damp wood, their rosaries tangled and broken, their blood mingling with the rot on the floor.

The soldier wasn’t among them. Ren turned in time to see him—a younger face, familiar, the same soldier who had guarded them before—standing by the side door. His blade was drawn, his face tight with fear and fury, but he didn’t stay. His eyes met Ren’s for a heartbeat, then he darted through the smoke and over Miyako’s caltrops. The iron spikes bit into his boots, but he still forced his way through, stumbling into the street beyond and vanishing into the night. “Damn it!” Hibiki yelled, chasing two steps before stopping short. “Leave him!” Miyako barked. “We’ve got what we came for.”

Darius spat blood onto the floor as Ren cut the ropes at his wrists. His arms fell limp, and he grunted, pushing himself upright with what strength he had left. “You stupid bastards,” he rasped. “I told you not to come. You took the bait like dogs, just like they wanted.” Ren pushed the flask into his hands anyway. Darius glared, then drank deep, coughing halfway through, but it put some strength back in his voice.

“Should’ve let me rot,” he muttered. His eyes, swollen as they were, softened for half a second. “But… thank you.” Hibiki barked a laugh, swinging his blood-stained morning star to his shoulder. “See? Saved your ass. You’re welcome.” Miyako crouched, wiping her knives clean. “We killed five. The soldier ran. But that’s it. It’s done.”

Ren nodded faintly, sheathing his sword. Relief, shaky and thin, began to bleed into his chest. For the first time in days, he let out a breath that didn’t feel like it would cut him in half. They laughed, weakly. Hibiki made some bitter joke about cultists falling like rats, Miyako rolled her eyes, and even Alice managed a small smile as she clutched her crossbow close. Darius grunted and leaned against a crate, muttering under his breath about them being fools, but his tone lacked venom. It almost felt like victory.

Until Ren noticed. He turned once, then twice. His chest tightened. “Where’s Alice?” The silence that followed froze them. Hibiki’s grin died instantly. Miyako’s head snapped up, eyes darting. Ren’s throat closed. Her crossbow lay on the floor, its strap cut clean. Bolts scattered across the wood, some bent, some broken. Darius cursed, his voice cracking for the first time. “Shit. No—no! That’s what they wanted!” Ren’s knees buckled as he grabbed the weapon. It was still warm from her hands, but the weight was dead, hollow. He dropped it against his chest as though pressing it closer would bring her back.

Hibiki broke first. He slammed the morning star into the wall, wood splintering, blood dripping from the spikes. He screamed, his voice raw and shaking, his hands trembling so violently he nearly dropped the weapon. “We were right here! RIGHT FUCKING HERE!” His voice cracked and broke. “How the fuck did we let this happen?!” Ren’s knuckles turned white around the crossbow, his breath ragged as he pressed it to his chest. Hibiki kept pacing, smashing his free hand against the wall until skin tore at his knuckles, his weapon still dripping from the last kill.

Miyako hadn’t moved since the words left Darius’s mouth—her face was locked, unreadable, but her eyes tracked the floor as if retracing every step, every second that might have stopped this. Darius's struggling voice rang out. “You don’t get it, do you? They didn’t care about me. Not really. I was bait. You were always the prize. And now…” His head shook for a moment before he steadied it. “…now they’ve got her.” Hibiki spun on him, spittle flying. “And you didn’t think to say that sooner? You just sat there, bleeding on the floor, letting us—" “Enough,” Miyako snapped. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it cracked across the room like a blade being drawn. She stepped between them, knife still slick with blood at her side. “It’s done. She’s gone. Shouting won’t bring her back.” Hibiki snarled and he turned away and slammed his morning star into the floorboards, the wood groaning quietly.

Darius coughed, blood spattering the floor, then spoke again, slower this time. “Listen to me. You’ve made enemies you don’t understand. This wasn’t just some back-alley gang with cheap blades. They’ve been here longer than any of you have been alive. If they wanted her, they wouldn’t kill her quick. That means she’s still alive.” He leaned forward, his bruised face tightening. “But if you chase them blind, you’ll all end up the same as me. Or worse.”

Miyako answered before Darius could. “We regroup. We plan. If we run into their den like fools, we die, and Alice dies too. We find where they took her, and when we go, we make sure none of them walk away.” She finally sheathed her knife, her hands steady in a way the others’ weren’t. Ren tightened his grip on the bolt at his side, his voice low but hard. “We bring her back. Whatever it takes.” The soldier had escaped. Alice was gone.