Night.

  The city did not sleep.

  On the contrary—the deeper the night went, the louder the capital became.

  Laughter, songs, flutes, drums…

  Fire shows, aerial illusions, mages throwing sparks into the sky.

  The capital glowed as if it wanted to outshine the stars themselves.

  I simply walked the streets, listening.

  To people.

  To the flow of mana.

  To what the shadows were hiding.

  And then—click.

  The light warped, and Mira teleported beside me, sharp and familiar.

  — Zenhald. It’s time. — she said without a smile.

  There was work in her voice. Strategy.

  This was the Mira armies trusted.

  — Create golems. A lot of them. We’re starting the operation.

  I nodded and activated my mana.

  The ground beneath my feet trembled.

  Stone swelled, turning into figures.

  Ice stretched into thin threads, assembling into shapes.

  Darkness thickened into miniature silhouettes.

  Within a minute, the first dozens stood ready.

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  Five.

  Ten.

  Thirty.

  Each with character.

  Each with a task.

  Mira whistled.

  — Not bad. But thirty isn’t enough. Give me more.

  I created more.

  And more.

  And more.

  Then I pulled out a pocket-storage woven from mana and began packing small—but dangerous—golems into it.

  In the end, my “pocket” held about 120.

  Mira took hers—30.

  And another 90 we released into the city.

  — Good, — Mira said, surveying the street. — Now we hide them.

  I snapped my fingers—and the shadows stirred.

  Each golem melted into the dark side of a building, into cracks between stones, into lampposts, under stalls, onto rooftops, into potholes in the road.

  The shadows grew deeper.

  Denser.

  Alive.

  Mira did the same—but her illusions were like clear water.

  The golems dissolved so perfectly they were indistinguishable from the fabric of the world.

  — Now no one will see them. Not even scout mages, — she said, brushing her hands off.

  I nodded.

  We stood in the center of the city, among lights and people—

  and around us, an army of two hundred shadows.

  Hidden.

  Silent.

  Deadly.

  Ready to tear apart anything that moved against us at a single command.

  Mira turned to me, her eyes lighting up with a playful—but predatory—spark.

  — Look, Zen. Tomorrow and the day after are the main tournament days.

  The louder we perform, the more attention we draw.

  — Officials? — I asked.

  She nodded.

  — Yes. Heads of houses. Army commanders. Royal advisors.

  Even the very traitors we’re hunting.

  I understood.

  — We put on a show… so they come to us themselves.

  — Exactly.

  They’ll see power—and want to talk.

  They’ll want to talk—and they’ll open up.

  They’ll open up—and we’ll see who’s tied to the demons.

  She leaned closer and lowered her voice.

  — And at that moment… our golems will quietly follow their trails out of the shadows.

  To their homes.

  To their caches.

  To their secret meetings.

  I smiled.

  — An excellent plan.

  Mira tapped my forehead.

  — Just don’t overdo it, brother.

  A show is fine.

  Another storm tearing the city apart—not so much.

  I snorted.

  — I’ll try.

  She hummed.

  — That scares me more than if you’d said “I promise.”

  Then she waved her hand.

  — That’s it. Let’s sleep. Tomorrow—the grand stage.

  The Nurino Festival will remember us.

  — And so will our enemies.