Li Fan burst out of the Crane Foundry's ruins just as the rain started coming down harder, the clay tile's message burning in his mind. The second path burns. His boots slapped through puddles as he cut back toward the main streets, heart hammering with more than just the run. That dragon symbol wasn't some random threat—it was a reminder that bigger hands were moving the pieces. Hands that could crush people like him without a second thought.
He spotted Wei Shun first, storming up from the direction of the Glassmakers' Quarter, smoke still clinging to his cloak. The big man's face was thunderous, jaw set like he'd bitten into something sour.
"You smell like a bonfire," Li Fan said, falling into step beside him. "What happened?"
Wei Shun shoved the small scroll into his hand without slowing down. "Some kid slipped me this right before the whole damn street tried to cook itself. Read it."
Li Fan scanned the words under a flickering street lantern. Allies fracture when mirrors show different truths. His stomach twisted. It felt too personal, like someone had been listening to their quiet doubts for months. He thought of the sealed letters he'd never fully explained to the others, the way he sometimes pulled away when the weight of old favors got too heavy.
"Same symbol on my end," Li Fan muttered, showing him the dragon etching he'd copied onto a scrap of cloth. "Eternal Court. They're not hiding it anymore."
Wei Shun grunted, but his eyes flicked sideways—guarded. "Rourou's still out there. Temple of Mists. If they hit us this hard, what about her?"
Rourou moved fast through the thinning crowds, the jade token heavy in her pocket like a accusation. The abbot's words kept replaying: a woman of the inner court, asking after all of them by name. It wasn't random. Someone was studying them, picking at the cracks they'd tried so hard to mend after those ugly months in the capital.
She found the two men waiting near the tea shop where they'd started, both looking soaked and rattled. Relief washed over her for a second—until she saw the tension in their shoulders.
"Temple gave me this," she said without preamble, holding out the jade token. The dragon glared up at them. "And a warning. Someone came before me. Knew too much. About all of us."
The three of them stood in the shelter of the overhang, rain drumming steadily around them. No one spoke right away. The air felt thicker than it should, charged with things left unsaid.
Wei Shun broke the silence first, voice low. "That fire in the Glassmakers' wasn't natural. Started right after I got the note about allies fracturing. Like they wanted me thinking about… old stuff. Times when we didn't trust each other so much."
Li Fan rubbed the back of his neck, water dripping from his hair. "Same at the Foundry. They left a message saying the second path burns. It's not just about closing routes. They're trying to get inside our heads. Make us wonder who's really on whose side." He glanced at Rourou, then away. "I've got my own ghosts from the capital. Favors I never talked about much. But I thought we were past letting outsiders use them against us."
Rourou crossed her arms, staring out at the rain-slicked street. "I hate this. Feels like we're dancing on someone else's strings again. That woman at the temple—she wasn't guessing. She knew my name, your names, the paths we'd pick. The Eternal Court doesn't just play for trinkets. They reshape entire districts when it suits the throne's balance. Or their version of it." She hesitated, then added quieter, "Makes me wonder what else they know. What we haven't told each other."
A heavy silence settled. Wei Shun shifted uncomfortably, like the big man wanted to punch something but didn't know what. Li Fan felt the old familiar pull—the urge to shoulder it alone so no one else got hurt. But he pushed it down.
"We regroup at the old warehouse by the river at dawn," Li Fan said finally. "No more solo runs tonight. Whatever's left of that third path, we face it together. They want us suspicious? We starve them of it."
Rourou nodded, but her smile was thin. Wei Shun clapped them both on the back, harder than necessary, like he was trying to glue the group back together with sheer force.
As they parted ways for the night, Li Fan couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on his back. Up in her silk-draped chamber, the woman in imperial robes watched her agents' signals flicker across the city. She sipped her tea, calm and unhurried.
"Good," she murmured. "Let the doubts simmer. A fractured blade cuts no one."