Zaire wasn't a fan of being followed.
He noticed someone trailing behind him just three blocks from the streets. They thought they were being sneaky, moving slowly enough to feel clever. But Zaire saw how the shadow danced around streetlights, lingered too long at corners, and shuffled along the pavement like a novice.
He maintained his pace, neither quickening nor slowing, a deliberate act of calmness. He was a predator playing possum.
Turning abruptly into a narrow, fog-choked alley, he vanished as if swallowed by the swirling mist. A moment later, his follower stumbled into view, eyes wide with confusion, the bravado of the streets dissolving into plain worry.
Zaire stepped out from behind a crumbling brick wall, the damp chill seeping into his leather armor. He pressed the heel of his worn boot against the man's back, sending him sprawling face-first onto the grimy cobblestones.
"Next time, try harder," he said, his voice a low, cool rasp that echoed in the confined space.
The man grunted, rolling over, surprise and pain etched on his face. He was clearly taken aback by how easily he'd been outsmarted. "Who the hell are you—?"
"Wrong first question," Zaire replied flatly, crouching down, his hand hovering near the hilt of the knife concealed beneath his coat. "The right one is why you thought it would be wise to follow me."
"I wasn't—"
"Lying is a bad idea, too."
This guy did not belong in Eldermere. His clothes were too clean, his posture too stiff. He carried a dagger, but it looked more like an accessory than a weapon.
Zaire's gaze narrowed. "You've got three seconds before I decide you're not worth my time."
The man opened his mouth, but his words were cut short by a voice that sliced through the tense atmosphere like a warm knife through butter.
"Zaire! Seriously?"
It was Sylen, strolling into the alley with his arms wide open, as if he were welcoming an old buddy rather than interrupting a confrontation.
"I leave you alone for one afternoon, and you're already threatening the locals. You've got zero chill, Castellan."
Zaire didn't even glance at him. "He was following me."
Sylen cast a dismissive glance at the man still sprawled on the ground. "Were you? Bold of you, considering how utterly unsubtle you are."
He leaned down, closer to the man's face. "Did he give you the scary stare yet? That'll make your soul twitch."
Zaire ignored Sylen's antics, his focus unwavering. "Why did you follow me?"
The man trembled under Zaire's intense gaze, as if he could see right through him. "I-it was because you manhandled my younger brother the other day," he stuttered, referring to the boy who tried to pick a fight with Zaire on the streets.
Sylen burst out laughing. "Oh sweetie, were you trying to get revenge for your little brother? How naive."
The man shot Sylen a pointed look before turning his gaze back to Zaire, who wore a completely blank expression.
Zaire yanked him up by the collar. "Listen up. If you or your desperate-looking brother ever cross my path again, I'll skin you alive without a second thought. Got it?"
The man was petrified, caught in the deadly aura Zaire radiated. He felt like a trapped animal, and he couldn't help but nod frantically.
Zaire released him, dusting off his coat as if shaking off the encounter. "Now get lost before I change my mind."
The man didn't need to be told twice; he scrambled to his feet and fled the alley, disappearing into the fog.
Zaire slowly stood up, brushing off his coat sleeve, like handling idiots was beneath him.
Sylen clapped once. "And there we go. Another win for the brooding justice league."
"I don't need your help."
"I know. I'm just here for the post-battle commentary—like moral support, but with more sass."
Zaire turned and walked deeper into the alley without looking back. "You followed me."
"Of course I did," Sylen replied cheerfully, falling into step beside him. "Because I knew you'd act like everything was fine while walking around like a storm brewing."
They walked in silence for a moment, the only sound the drip of water and the distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer.
"Did she find anything?" Zaire finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sylen blinked. "Who?"
"You know who."
Sylen squinted. "Ah. Her." Zaire stayed silent.
Sylen let out an exaggerated sigh. "No. She doesn't know yet. But she's getting closer. You can't hide stuff forever, Z. Especially from someone like her."
"She's not like us."
"Exactly. That's why it matters."
They reached the end of the alley, where the fog swirled and thickened, as if listening in on their conversation.
"Things are stirring again," Sylen said, his tone suddenly serious. The humor had vanished, replaced by a grim awareness. "Something's coming, and I have a feeling it's not the gentle kind."
Zaire paused at the corner, scanning the shadows, his senses on high alert. "I know."
"And?"
Zaire's jaw tightened. "Let it come."
* * *