CHAPTER 39: CHAPTER 38: NO PROOF, ONLY ASHES

The guards arrived ten minutes too late.

They found a burned alley, unconscious gangsters, and a dead man with Silver Rank tattooed on his arm.

A mark known across the underground.

"Gods," one of the younger guards whispered, staring pale-faced. "That’s Red Morn."

The name landed like a stone in the alley.

The captain crouched beside the body, grimacing. "Gods help us. Someone actually took him down."

"Orders, sir?"

The captain scanned the alley.

"Secure the area. Get the mage examiner here. We need a read on what magic was used."

A pause.

"But sir," the sergeant muttered, "if word gets out a big boss died like this..."

The captain looked at him. "I know."

He looked over the broken bodies again, as if searching for something that wasn’t there.

"Red Morn had enemies. Rival gangs. Mercenaries. Adventurers. Hell, even some Merchant Guilds hated him. We don’t want a war because some upstart decided to make a name."

"Make it clean. Report says: coordinated gang hit. Magic residue, possible foreign weapon. No names."

"But—"

"No clue," the captain repeated.

"And if anyone saw who did this, they’re already gone."

The guards exchanged tense glances, then got to work.

Nobody wanted to be the one to explain to Central that the most brutal gangster in Ginip just got turned into ash without a whisper of warning.

...

The streets of Ginip felt like a different world at night—quieter, but laced with danger. Smoke still clung to Kael’s clothes as he moved, Seris leaning heavily on him. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps. One arm dangled uselessly. Her ankle twisted with every step, but she never complained.

He took one last turn and came to a familiar shop.

He knocked three times, then twice more.

A latch unhooked. The door cracked.

"What in all the saints’ piss—what happened?" Lirra’s voice was sharp with surprise. Her violet eyes scanned him, then dropped to Seris, pale and bloodied, leaning into him.

"Inside," Kael said quickly. "Please."

She stepped aside without another word.

He helped Seris through the doorway.

Lirra shut the door and bolted it behind them.

"What happened?"

Kael laid Seris down on a padded bench near the counter. "Some gang thugs. Bigger problem showed up. We got out, barely."

"That’s not just some thugs." Lirra crouched next to Seris, examining the blood soaking through her clothes. "Gods, her leg’s twisted—she needs a healer. Now."

"Do you know one?"

Lirra stood. "Yeah, I know one."

She disappeared into the back, returning with a heavy cloak. "Come. We go quick."

...

They cut through the back alleys again, this time Lirra leading the way. She didn’t speak much—just glanced over her shoulder every few minutes.

They reached a squat building nestled between a smokehouse and an old tannery. The sign above the door read Vaerin’s Apothecary.

Lirra knocked sharply.

A voice called from inside. "If it’s about warts, I’m closed. If it’s about love potions, I’m still closed."

"Open the damn door, asshole. It’s me."

Then locks clicked. The door creaked open to reveal a tall rabbit-man in a stained leather apron. He had silvered hair tied back and eyes that said I’ve seen worse—but I didn’t enjoy it.

"Gods, Lirra. You bring me half a corpse?"

"She’s breathing, isn’t she?" Lirra shot back. "Shut up and help."

He muttered a curse but stepped aside.

Kael carried Seris inside, ducking through the low door. Roan waved toward a wide cot set against the far wall.

"Put her there. Light that lamp."

Kael obeyed while Roan knelt by Seris, pulling a tray of tools from under a low bench.

Roan started his work—unfastening buckles, slicing away blood-soaked cloth.

He worked fast, hands steady. "What happened?"

"Street fight," Kael said. "She took the worst of it."

"She’s lost blood. That leg’s going to need splinting. Dislocated shoulder... broken ribs, maybe. What was she hit with, a hammer?"

"Close enough."

"Hold her arm. I’m putting the shoulder back in."

Kael braced her shoulder. Roan took a deep breath—and popped the joint back into its socket.

The sound was like dry wood snapping. Kael flinched. Seris didn’t even groan. Just closed her eyes.

"You’re used to pain," Roan said.

Seris met his gaze. "I was trained to be."

"She’s a combat slave," Kael said quietly. "Former noble. B-rank. It’s... complicated."

Roan didn’t pry. Just nodded and kept working.

He examined her leg next. "Dislocated at the knee. Nasty sprain."

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a thick paste in a clay jar, then smeared it along her ribs. It sizzled faintly, a scent like mint and burning grass filling the room.

"This’ll dull the pain, pull the bruising out."

"What is it?" Kael asked.

"Chimera root, ghost nettle, and powdered krag bones. Expensive shit. You can pay later."

"I will," Kael said.

Roan then smiled and said, "I’ve seen very few people like you who care so much about their slave."

He looked at Seris and said, "You’re lucky, girl. Most like you don’t get a second chance. Or someone who gives a damn."

Seris didn’t say anything. But Kael saw the tension in her jaw.

Roan then grabbed a long-handled ladle from a bubbling copper pot in the corner. He poured a thick greenish broth into a small ceramic bowl.

"Drink," he said, crouching beside the cot. "You’ll sleep. Heal faster."

Seris cracked an eye. "Will it taste like dog shit?"

Roan smirked. "Worse."

She choked it down anyway.

...

A few minutes later

Lirra leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"You’re a shit liar," she said flatly. "You said it was ’gang thugs.’ That kind of damage doesn’t come from punks with rusted knives."

"What really happened?" she pressed. "And why the fuck did they come down on her so hard? Why’d they attack you?"

"I— I don’t know... maybe for money."

Lirra looked at him. "You’re not telling me everything."

Kael didn’t answer.

"I don’t need details," she said. "But if someone comes knocking and says you killed their boys, I’d rather not be caught holding your mess."

Kael met her eyes, calm. "No one saw us. And I didn’t start it."

"And if someone comes anyway?"

Kael said nothing.

Lirra stared at him, her voice cooling. "Fine. I’ll pretend none of this happened. But don’t mistake kindness for ignorance, Kael. You bring heat near my shop again, and I’ll gut you before the city watch does."

"Fair."

He stepped to the door.

"Where the hell are you going?" Lirra asked, exasperated.

"I still have work to finish."