The city had surrendered to darkness, its pulse slowed to a whisper. No one stirring in the crooked alleys would have guessed the daylight chaos that had rattled these same streets; now every shutter was barred, every lantern snuffed, every citizen lost to dreams. Only the moon, thin as a blade, watched.
From the deeper black beside the abandoned church, four figures peeled away from the wall . Black cloaks swallowed the moonlight; hoods swallowed their faces. They moved without sound until the tallest halted beneath the sagging eaves of the temple of Peros and spoke, voice rough as gravel.
"Of all places we could have appeared, we had to appear at the temple of Peros. How ironic."
"Where we appear doesn't matter," the second figure answered, low and clipped. "What matters is completing our mission here."
"Unfortunately we can't take any action tonight," the third said.
"And why is that?" the fourth asked, a tremor of impatience in the words.
"The man made by flame is in town."
The name struck like a thrown stone. Tension crackled between them, sharp enough to taste.
"What? Why the hell is he here?" the tall one growled, voice dropping to a furnace rumble. "We specifically chose this town because of its fragile connection with the Royal Capital. His appearance here is bound to be a problem."
"From the information I got, Sango won't be here for long," the third figure said, unrushed. "After all, he has been on an expedition for the past six years. Now that he's back, he is bound to go to the Royal Capital and give a formal report to the king."
"I still vote we don't take any action," the fourth figure said, timid but stubborn. "We definitely don't want to get on Sango's bad side."
"That won't be possible," the third figure countered, "because Sango is with something that is far greater than what we are after."
"What the hell could be more important than a masquerade?" the second figure demanded, shock cracking his calm.
"A boy."
The third figure couldn't finish his sentence before everyone began laughing hysterically.
The second figure couldn't withdraw his laughter; he extended his arms to grab on to something, anything, to steady himself. "You're a fool. You and I both know that nothing in this world is greater than a masquerade's ability," he managed between gasps.
"You guys should have let me speak finish," the third figure said. His voice turned menacing, a blade sliding from its sheath, and the hysteria died as if sliced away.
"The thing with Sango is made with darkness."
"Huh?!"
"Elaborate," the fourth figure snapped, sarcasm dripping. "You do know most of us here never graduated from our classes."
"What I'm saying in simple form is Sango is with a thing whose appearance is darkness."
WHAT! WHAT! WHAT! WHAT!
"What the hell is something like that doing with Sango?" The mood immediately changed; shock rippled through the cloaks like wind through wheat.
"So right now we either go for the flawed kid or we go for the masquerade," the first figure said, voice steady as iron. "Either way we are not doing anything tonight because of Sango."
"I object us taking the kid," the fourth figure said.
A sudden wave of anger filled the atmosphere; it was all resonating from the third figure's body, heat without flame.
"What do you mean?" he snarled. "You're telling me we let a thing like that roam freely among us? Hell nah—over my dead body."
"As you know, we need five girls' lives in order to activate the masquerade," the fourth figure replied, unflinching. "We have already gotten four, and trust me, I'm not the type of person that likes wasting people's time—especially females." He looked the third figure straight in the eyes, fists clenched, almost like he was ready to throw hands.
"Everybody SHUT UP!" the second figure bellowed, voice booming like a giant trumpet across the alley.
Silence slammed down.
"We are not going after the kid," the first figure declared, taking control. "After all, we still have a lot of time, and with the masquerade's power we will be able to stand our own against adversaries."
"I'm sorry, but I won't stand with your blasphemy," the third figure spat. "So you're saying we leave that abominable creature to just roam the streets? I don't care if he's with Sango or not—I'll murder anybody who stops me from killing that thing."
"Lots of words from a nobody," the second figure said, tone menacing and cold. "Do you really think you can stand against someone like Sango? That is a dream within a dream. Look at us—we!! Do we look like someone who could pose a threat to Captain Rosewalt? And Sango is miles stronger than him. If it weren't for him, do you think we would have had a problem taking over this town? Even though he is not on good terms with the Royal Capital, he is still able to protect this town. If you can't take Captain Rosewalt on, that means you don't have a chance in hell of taking on Sango. I also support the idea of just getting the masquerade and dealing with the boy later—rather than poking the belly of the beast. After all, we've captured four girls for the preparations of the ritual as we await the masquerade. You know I don't support the wastage of life."
"I also support getting one more girl to complete the ritual rites," the fourth figure added. "That will prove less complicated."
"So be it, then," the first figure said. "We will proceed with our main plans. As for the thing, we will find a way to take him out along the line."
"That thing will eventually become a problem," the third figure roared. "I can't believe it—you all have gone soft. You all disgust me!!"
"I said we are done here, and so are you," the first figure cut in, authority ringing like a gavel. "We will speak later. You are the one in charge of getting the last girl for the ritual, while the rest of us will find a way to take out Captain Rosewalt. We won't take any action while Sango is here. Am I understood?"
No response was heard; no one said a word.
"We are all dismissed," the first figure said.
Immediately smoke filled the alleyway of the church, thick and acrid, swirling like a living thing. The figures reemerged into the shadows—gone in the space of a heartbeat—leaving only one remaining.
"Nobody can tell me what to do," the third figure muttered, voice harsh and low. "I do as my fighting spirit tells me." Beneath the hood his face was invisible, but the menace was a blade drawn in the dark.
"Tayo—or whatever its name is—mark my words: you shall die by my hand."
He stepped from the church alley onto the empty city road. Mist curled around his ankles, and then he was gone, swallowed whole by the night.