Adom hit the first rooftop running.

The tiles were slick from evening moisture, and his boots found purchase through pure momentum rather than grip. He didn't slow down. The next building was twelve feet away—an easy jump under normal circumstances, but normal circumstances didn't involve the metallic taste of panic in his mouth and the knowledge that every second he spent thinking was a second closer to catastrophe.

He launched himself across the gap.

Wind hit his face like a slap, carrying the sounds of celebration from below—music, shouting, the crash of something that was probably valuable being broken by someone who was definitely drunk. The noise rose and fell as he moved, but it never stopped. The entire city had turned into one massive distraction.

Perfect cover for a prison break.

His feet hit the next roof harder than he'd intended. Clay tiles cracked under the impact, but held. He was already moving again, scanning for the next jump, the next route that would get him back to the academy square faster. He needed to find Captain Morris before charging into the detention facility alone—no telling what he'd walk into without backup, and Morris was the fastest way to get proper authority involved.

A gap opened up ahead that was too wide to jump. Adom cursed and veered left, looking for a way around.

The celebration below seemed to be getting louder, if that was possible. Someone had started what sounded like a drum circle, except with more enthusiasm than rhythm.

He couldn't hear his own footsteps over the noise.

The academy square came into view three blocks away, still packed with celebrating crowds. He'd been jumping from roof to roof instead of flying because he needed to spot Morris in that chaos below, and that required the kind of controlled movement and clear sightlines that only came from staying close to the ground.

Another jump. This one sent him sliding down a sloped roof until he managed to catch himself on a decorative gutter that held just long enough for him to swing onto the next building.

He was close enough now to make out individual faces in the crowd below. There—Captain Morris, still trying to maintain order at the intersection, his voice completely lost in the chaos as he gestured frantically at a group of students who were attempting to construct what appeared to be a human pyramid.

Adom dropped to the edge of the roof and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"CAPTAIN MORRIS!"

The captain didn't even turn around. The noise swallowed Adom's voice completely.

"CAPTAIN! THE PRISON!"

Nothing. Morris was now dealing with what looked like a dispute between two vendors over who had the right to sell victory ales at this particular corner.

"Oh, for god's sake," Adom muttered.

He wove [Levitation] with more force than finesse, wrapping the spell around Captain Morris and lifting him straight up out of the crowd.

The effect was immediate and gratifying. Morris rose into the air with his arms windmilling frantically, his mouth opening in what was probably a very loud shout that got lost in the general din below. The crowd barely noticed—one moment their captain was there, the next he wasn't, and they were too busy celebrating to care about the details.

Adom guided Morris's trajectory until he could grab the man's arm and pull him onto the rooftop.

Morris hit the tiles with a thud and immediately scrambled away from the edge, his face white as parchment.

"What the hell—" he started, then looked over the edge and immediately pressed himself flat against the roof. "Oh God, we're so high up. I hate heights. I hate this so much."

"Captain Morris," Adom interrupted. "I need you to listen to me very carefully."

"You can't just grab people!" Morris snapped, though he kept his voice low as if speaking too loudly might somehow make the roof collapse. "You can't just levitate someone without warning! That's—that's assault! That's kidnapping!"

"There are people about to attack the detention facility and free Prince Kalyon," Adom said. "People are going to die tonight if you don't act right now."

Morris stared at him, his anger warring with confusion and a healthy dose of vertigo. "How could you possibly know that?"

"It doesn't matter how I know. What matters is that you use your communication crystal right now and contact whoever's in charge of prison security."

Morris looked at him for a long moment, then down at the street below, then immediately back at Adom. "If you're lying about this—"

"I'm not."

Morris finally seemed to catch his breath. His hand moved toward the crystal at his belt, though he was still pressed flat against the roof tiles.

"Wait," he said slowly. "White streak in your hair. Blue eyes. You're Adom Sylla."

"Yes," Adom said, already moving toward the edge of the roof. "And you need to make that call right now."

Morris activated his crystal with shaking hands. "This is Captain Morris, city guard. I need to be transferred to detention facility command. Priority emergency."

Static crackled, then a voice: "Transferring now, Captain."

The transfer happened almost instantly—Wangara's communication crystals had been so thoroughly adopted by the city's command structure that they'd built entire protocols around the enhanced connectivity, but Adom noticed the static was heavier than usual tonight, only now realizing that someone was probably actively interfering with the network. That made everything worse.

Another voice, sharper: "This is Warden Kellhast. What's your emergency, Captain?"

"Warden, I have credible intelligence of an imminent attack on your facility. Request immediate security lockdown. They're targeting Prince Kalyon."

"What's your source on this, Morris?"

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Morris glanced at Adom.

"If I'm wrong, I'll be the only one in trouble," Adom said. "If I'm right, you'll have prevented a catastrophe."

"Source is... reliable," Morris said into the crystal. "Full security protocols. Now."

"Understood. Initiating lockdown procedures immediately."

He cut the connection and looked at Adom, who was balanced on the edge of the roof, preparing to fly away.

"Where are you going?"

"To make sure you were fast enough," Adom replied, and stepped off into the night before Morris finished speaking, leaving the captain alone on the rooftop with his crystal and his fear of heights.

The wind hit him like a wall, but the protective glasses kept his eyes clear enough to navigate.

The city spread out below him in patches of light and shadow, the celebration continuing its chaotic sprawl through every district he could see. From this height, the detention facility was easy to spot—a squat, fortress-like building surrounded by high walls and watchtowers, sitting apart from the residential areas like something diseased.

It looked calm. Almost peaceful, if you ignored the fact that it was designed to keep people locked inside against their will.

Guards were visible at the main gate, their positions exactly where they should be. Everything appeared normal.

Adom dropped from the sky like a stone, pulling up just before impact to land hard on the cobblestones twenty feet from the gate. The sound of his boots hitting stone echoed off the walls.

"Who goes there?"

Both guards had their swords drawn before Adom finished straightening up. They moved, positioning themselves to block any approach to the gate while maintaining clear sight lines to each other. Professional. Good training.

They were both in full plate armor, helmets covering their faces, which made reading their expressions impossible but somehow made the whole situation feel more ominous.

"My name is Adom Sylla," he said, raising his hands to show they were empty. "I'm a student at Xerkes Academy. There are people planning to attack this facility tonight. I came to warn you."

The guard on the left lowered his sword slightly. "Look, kid, I don't know what kind of prank you and your friends think you're pulling, but—"

"This isn't a prank," Adom interrupted. "Less than five minutes ago, Captain Morris of the city guard contacted this facility to warn about an imminent attack. He spoke with someone called Warden Kellhast, who authorized full security protocols. I'm here to make sure those protocols are actually being implemented."

The guard's posture shifted. Something in Adom's tone had gotten through.

"What do you mean, Warden Kellhast?" the guard asked slowly.

"The man Captain Morris spoke to on the communication crystal. Warden Kellhast. He confirmed the lockdown order."

"Kid," the guard said, and Adom could hear the frown in his voice even through the helmet. "Our warden is named Garrett Thorne. Has been since the construction of this facility, a year ago. There's no one named Kellhast working here."

The bottom fell out of Adom's stomach.

"Oh no," he said. "It's already started."

The guard immediately reached for his communication crystal, activating it quickly. Static filled the air—thick, heavy interference that made any kind of transmission impossible.

"The network's completely jammed," the guard said, his voice tighter now. "I can't reach anyone."

The second guard, who had remained silent throughout the entire exchange, finally spoke. "I'll go check on the interior perimeter. Make sure everything's secure."

"Sure, uh..." The first guard paused.

"Merrick," the second guard said helpfully. "Name's Merrick."

"Right. Merrick. Go check it out."

The second guard—Merrick—turned and began running toward a side entrance.

Adom watched him go, his mind racing. The static meant someone was actively jamming the communication network that he built throughout the city. The fake warden meant the infiltrators had already compromised the prison's command structure. But those were just the obvious problems.

The real problem was something else entirely.

"Wait," Adom said. "You don't know that guy?"

The first guard turned to look at him. "What?"

"Merrick. The other guard. You don't know him?"

"No," the guard said slowly. "He's new. Started today. He was assigned to my shift this evening, but I never..."

The guard's voice trailed off as the implications hit him.

Twenty feet away, Merrick stopped running.

For a moment, everything was perfectly still. Then Merrick's head turned, just slightly, and even through the helmet's visor, Adom could feel the weight of his gaze.

Their eyes met.

Merrick ran.

Adom was already moving.

Red Fluid wrapped around Merrick's body in flowing ribbons, enhancing every muscle, every reaction. His first step toward the side entrance became a sprint that would have left blur trails if the night had been brighter.

But Adom had already seen it happen.

[Flow Prediction] kicked in like a switch being flipped, and suddenly Merrick's intended route was laid out in his mind like a map.

Three steps to the door. Hand reaching for the handle. Body turning to slam the entrance shut behind him. The man wasn't just running—he was planning to barricade himself inside and complete whatever mission had brought him here.

Maybe one second left.

During his two weeks of obsessive practice, Adom had made some interesting discoveries. A human blink lasted roughly three-tenths of a second. Even the most experienced combat mages needed at least six-tenths of a second to weave a coherent spell they'd practiced thousands of times.

To his surprise, Axis moved through his body faster slightly faster than mana or Fluid ever could. As a result, Adom had managed to cut his weaving time to somewhere between those two benchmarks, depending on the spell's complexity.

[Push], as it happened, was about as simple as magic got.

The spell formed in his mind and flowed into reality in just under four-tenths of a second. Not his best time, but good enough.

The invisible force hit Merrick center-mass just as his hand touched the door handle. The impact lifted him off his feet and drove him into the reinforced wood with enough force to crack the frame. His scream cut through the night air—half pain, half shocked surprise.

Adom was already moving before Merrick hit the ground.

The fake guard was trying to roll away from the door, his Fluid-enhanced reflexes working to get him back on his feet, but enhanced or not, he was still dealing with the aftermath of being launched like a catapult stone. His movements were sharp but uncoordinated.

Adom grabbed Merrick's right wrist as the man tried to push himself up.

The snap was audible.

Merrick's second scream was pure agony, his Fluid flickering as shock disrupted his concentration. His enhanced strength meant nothing when the bones connecting his hand to his arm were no longer in their proper configuration.

"That was extremely stupid," Adom said, maintaining his grip on the broken wrist. "Who are you people? How many of you are involved? Cooperate, because the alternative is me working my way through your other joints until I find one that makes you more talkative."

Behind them, the real guard was shouting something, but Adom's attention was focused entirely on the man writhing beneath him. Merrick's face was visible now—his helmet had come off during the impact with the door—and Adom could see the calculation behind the pain.

The man was weighing his options. Probably wondering if his mission was worth whatever Adom was planning to do to him next.

"Choose quickly," Adom added. "I'm having a very stressful evening, and my patience for enemy infiltrators is approximately nonexistent."

Merrick's eyes focused on Adom with the kind of clarity that came from making a decision. His jaw tightened.

"Go to hell," he said through gritted teeth.

Adom sighed. Whatever was happening inside that building, it was happening now, and every second spent trying to extract information from someone who'd clearly been trained to resist interrogation was a second he couldn't afford to lose.

He pressed his hand against Merrick's forehead and wove a pulse directly in his skull.

The spell took hold immediately. Merrick's eyes fluttered once, then closed, his body going completely limp as unconsciousness claimed him. The red Fluid around him dissipated like smoke.

"Is he...?" The real guard had reached them, his sword still drawn but pointing at the ground.

"Unconscious," Adom said, standing up and brushing dirt off his knees. "He'll probably have a headache when he wakes up, but he'll live to answer questions later."

Adom looked up at the prison walls, then began weaving [Levitation] around himself.

"Wait," the guard said as Adom started to rise into the air. "You're not going in there alone, are you? We should wait for reinforcements! The city guard will—"

"I can't wait," Adom called down to him. "This is too important."

He paused in his ascent, looking down at the guard who was staring up at him with obvious panic.

"An old man is supposed to come here soon," Adom said. "Whether he shows up or not. I called him earlier. If you see someone named Mr. Biggins, tell him I went inside ahead."

"Wait!" the guard shouted. "What's your plan? How are we supposed to—"

But Adom was already rising over the wall, disappearing into the darkness beyond the gate, leaving the guard alone with an unconscious infiltrator and the growing certainty that whatever was about to happen inside those walls was going to be very, very bad.