The path through the Lawless Lands wound upward in a slow, breath-stealing ascent. Ash-grey cliffs towered on both sides, carved by winds sharp enough to peel stone. Midarion, Reikika, and Elhyra moved in silence, their steps echoing against the narrowing gorge.
Then the canyon widened.
And the world opened.
Midarion stopped first. Reikika gasped. Even Elhyra lifted her head.
A colossal black citadel rose from the earth like the spine of a fallen god — a cathedral-shaped fortress of obsidian stone, its towers skewering the sky. Jagged buttresses wrapped around it like ribs, lanternfires burning at each point, casting blue reflections across its polished walls.
The Black Post.
A structure so massive it seemed to swallow the horizon.
Reikika whispered, barely breathing. "It's… huge."
Midarion swallowed. "This is where… we're going to live?"
Elhyra nodded once. "Yes."
Before they could move another step, a figure appeared at the gates — almost as if she had been waiting.
Selina Marrow.
Chestnut hair tied back neatly, a silver pen tucked into her bun like a decorative blade. Round glasses glinting under the torchlight. Her presence felt oddly bright against the oppressive grandeur of the fortress.
"I'll admit," she said with a warm smile, "I didn't expect you three to return. The Post almost never takes in newcomers. Especially children."
Reikika crossed her arms. "Rude."
Selina's smile widened as if amused. "Honest."
She stepped closer, eyes drifting toward the towering citadel behind her.
"This fortress is said to once have belonged to a king," she explained. "He ruled these lands before they became the Lawless Lands. When his kingdom fell, the Post… inherited the remains."
Midarion glanced at Elhyra. Inherited. Survived. Just like them.
They approached the entrance — two enormous doors carved with a blue raven, wings stretched wide in silent defiance.
But before they could enter, Elhyra suddenly stopped.
"…Children."
Her voice was steady. Too steady.
Midarion felt something tighten in his chest. "Why are you stopping?"
Elhyra smiled gently… and painfully.
"This is where I leave you."
Reikika's head shot up. "What? No! You—you said—"
"I said I would take you to the Black Post," Elhyra replied softly. "And I did. My mission was to save you, not join you."
Midarion stepped forward. "But you've been with us for almost a month. You protected us. You—"
"I care for you," she interrupted.
The kindness in her voice made the words heavier.
"But I cannot enter the Black Post. Not everyone can simply walk inside. And…" She hesitated. "I have my own life to return to."
Reikika's eyes brimmed instantly. "But… we need you."
Elhyra placed a hand on her head, tender and warm.
"You'll be safe here. I promise."
Midarion clenched his fists. "Will we ever see you again?"
Elhyra's expression brightened — genuinely this time.
"Of course. I'll visit. I'll check on you. And if you need me… I will come."
The children looked at her, wavering between heartbreak and hope.
"Midarion's chest tightened — the same way it had the day his father left and never returned alive."
And slowly — painfully — they nodded.
Elhyra sighed with relief, then pulled them both close, holding them longer than she meant to.
"Go," she whispered. "And grow stronger."
Midarion and Reikika wiped their eyes. Elhyra stepped back.
Selina stepped forward.
And the children crossed the threshold.
If the outside was overwhelming, the inside was alive.
A rush of warm air and torchlight spilled out, painting the kids' faces in amber.
A colossal hall stretched before them, illuminated by hundreds of torches burning in iron sconces. Shadows danced across black marble floors polished smooth by countless boots.
People were everywhere.
Mercenaries clashed tankards at long tables. Assassins in dark cloaks leaned against pillars, sharpening blades. Bounty seekers shouted prices. A trio of armored adventurers argued over who deserved the next contract.
The noise was chaotic but purposeful—a storm with patterns.
Reikika's eyes widened. "This place is… beautiful."
Midarion felt dizzy taking it all in.
Their eyes traveled to the far end of the hall, where an enormous black banner hung from ceiling to floor.
A blue raven, wings spread wide, crowned the fabric.
Selina nodded at it. "Symbol of the Post. The Blue raven of liberation."
"Liberation?" Midarion echoed.
"Liberating people from monsters, bandits, tyranny… and sometimes from their lives," She said dryly.
Selina stepped in front of them, hands folded neatly behind her back.
"Now," she began, "let me introduce myself properly."
She bowed with immaculate grace.
"Selina Marrow. Secretary of the Black Post. I handle every deal, every client, and every signature that keeps this place alive. Most who come here never meet the others — much less the Boss himself. I'm the face they see, the voice they hear…
Her glasses glimmered.
"…and the one they really don't want to lie to."
Midarion blinked. "Others? Boss? What does that mean?"
Selina smiled, pleased by their curiosity.
"The Black Post isn't just a guild," she began. "It's a contract web. Adventurers, mercenaries, assassins — anyone who seeks gold, power, information or anonymity comes here."
She gestured toward the boards.
"Missions range from E-rank errands to S-rank exterminations capable of erasing cities. Some call us ghosts for hire."
Her smile sharpened.
"Others call us the hand's devils ."She winked. "Both are true."
Reikika raised her hand timidly. "Do… kings hire you?"
"Especially kings," Selina said. "They pay the most gold."
Before the children could respond, a booming voice cut through the hall.
"Oi! woman!"
A tall man slammed a hand on the counter, face red with fury. His armor was marked with multiple glowing sigils — high rank. Dangerous.
"We're working, not listening to brat stories! Give me my contract already!"
Selina turned her head slightly. "You'll wait your turn."
Midarion felt the man's gaze shift.
Then freeze.
He was staring directly at Midarion.
"…What's that kid hiding?"
Midarion's heart clenched. He instinctively pressed the cloth bundle at his chest — Keel's cage. The faint warmth inside trembled.
The man's eyes darkened. "Give it to me."
Midarion flinched. "No."
"Boy." The man took a step forward, killing intent radiating off him. "I sensed something powerful in there. Give it here… or die."
Reikika moved in front of Midarion.
"You won't touch him!"
The man vanished.
A blur of motion. Steel flashed.
He appeared directly in front of Midarion, sword raised to cleave him in half—
—then stopped.
Completely.
Confusion flickered across his face before his body crumpled forward, collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut.
Blood pooled beneath his skull.
A tiny, perfect hole sat between his eyebrows.
Silence swallowed the entire hall.
Reikika's breath trembled. She turned toward Selina—
—who was calmly wiping blood off her silver pen before sliding it back into her hair.
Selina exhaled gently.
"Disrespect and curiosity both have prices here," she murmured. "You can pay one with gold… and the other with your life."
Two silent attendants appeared behind her, dragging the corpse away without ceremony.
The hall remained utterly silent.
Reikika whispered, voice wavering: "Are… are you the strongest one here?"
Selina blinked.
Then she laughed. Not loudly. Not boastfully. Just… amused.
"Oh, heavens no." She tapped her pen. "I'm barely half as strong as the strong ones."
Midarion and Reikika exchanged wide-eyed glances.
If that was "barely half as strong"…what kind of monsters lived above her?
Selina leaned over the counter, smile returning — warm, unbothered.
"You'll learn soon enough. This fortress has layers… and you've only seen the first."
She gestured to the hall with a graceful sweep.
"Welcome to the Black Post, children. Your real lives start here."
And behind her words, behind the torches and banners and noise, a shadow stirred deeper inside the fortress.
A shadow with five silhouettes.
And one throne.
The Hand awaited.