Weeks passed, and the Council's web of intelligence grew. But the most crucial, and heartbreaking, piece of the puzzle fell into their laps from an unexpected source. Haruto, using a shadow merged with the silhouette of a wandering merchant's cart, had infiltrated the capital. He was focusing on the sanctum, but a stray whisper from a palace maid drew his attention upward, to the gilded towers. "...poor Lady Akari, they say she's been singing for the Regent's guests. She seems so frail." Akari? But she was safe with the Council. Haruto's shadow slid up the marble walls, seeping under a windowsill into a lavishly appointed suite. There, by a window overlooking the city, sat a girl with long, dark hair. It was Suki, the classmate who had been summoned with them, gifted with a Siren's Voice—a magical voice of irresistible charm and beauty.
But the song she was humming was a broken, discordant thing. Her eyes, once bright and full of life, were hollow. She was a trophy, a songbird in a cage, forced to perform for the Duke and his guests to demonstrate his "benevolence" in protecting the summoned children. Haruto's shadow lingered, witnessing a visit from the Duke.
"Sing for me, my dear," Valerius said, his voice slick with false kindness. Suki complied, her voice weaving a melody of forced joy, but Haruto, with his power to sense the heart, could feel the undercurrent of despair and terror. She was not just a prisoner; she was being broken.
He withdrew, his soul aching. He had been so focused on the grand strategy, on the incoming new hero, that he had forgotten the individuals already suffering. He returned to the council and reported his findings. "We cannot leave her there," Akari said, tears in her eyes. "She was my friend."
"It is a trap," Kenji warned. "Valerius is no fool. He's parading her to draw one of us out. Probably you, Haruto, to paint you as a kidnapper."
"Then we will not play his game," Haruto said, a new resolve hardening his features. "We will play ours." The rescue of Suki became a secondary objective, but a critical one. It was a test of their network's capabilities and a blow to the Duke's propaganda.
They planned it for the night of a grand banquet, when the palace would be bustling and security stretched thin. The operation was a masterpiece of misdirection. Sun Elf illusions caused a minor fire in the barracks. Dryad magic caused the ornamental vines in the banquet hall to grow wild, causing chaos. In the confusion, a single shadow detached from the corner of Suki's room. It was Haruto, who had been hiding there for hours.
"Suki," he whispered, materializing. She flinched, fear in her eyes. "It's me, Haruto. We're getting you out." Tears welled in her hollow eyes. "H-how?" He didn't answer. He simply wrapped them both in a cloak of living shadow. They became insubstantial, slipping past guards, through walls, and down into the city's sewers, emerging miles away where Lyra waited with a swift elven steed. The rescue was a complete success. The next day, the Duke's narrative was in tatters.
The "protected" songbird had flown her cage, and the only thing left behind was a single, black feather on her windowsill—a silent, mocking signature from the Shadow Hero. The people whispered. The Duke's control was not as absolute as he claimed.