Aden pulled the cracked Fox mask over his face, the ceramic edge biting into his cheek. The internal hunger was a screaming white noise in the back of his brain, but his focus was pinned on the shifting shadows thirty paces ahead.
The forest here, on the outskirts of the Green-Glass District, was thick with Purification Mist— a byproduct of the Baron's estate that made the air taste like ozone and metal.
"I said come out. I already know where you are," Aden rasped, his hand dropping to the storage ring, ready to pull a weapon or the vial if he had to.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of dripping water and the distant, rhythmic tolling of the town's morning bell.
Then, a branch snapped.
A figure stepped out from behind a chipped oak.
It wasn't a noble, knight or a scummy assassin like Aden predicted.
