The priest did not change his path.
Three days. Same routine. Morning sermon. Midday blessing. Evening meal alone in the west cloister beBut Zee wasn't following him tonight.
He was already inside.
The inner study of the cloister was plain, but clean. Old stone. Candles melted to their base. A single desk stood near the window, its surface arranged with ritual precision... prayer papers, ink pot, a sealed scroll still drying.
Zee stood by the far wall, cloaked in dusk and stillness. Sevi leaned against the bookshelf near the door, arms crossed, saying nothing.
He opened the scroll.
To Captain Reshen, Second Reach Enforcement —
The father has confessed to arcane practice. The village claims no knowledge. That is irrelevant.
Remove the household.
The children must not be left behind. Magic, even dormant, spreads by blood.
We do not risk inheritance.
Zee said nothing. He set the scroll down like it burned.
Sevi read it from over his shoulder. She didn't speak. But her breathing changed.
From outside, a footstep. Then the quiet creak of the door.
High Voice Marrel entered, humming softly to himself, robes slightly loosened, hands still wet from fountain water.
He looked up. Froze.
"Who are you?"
Zee didn't answer. He stepped forward.
"The children," he said. "You ordered them killed."
Marrel blinked. His face stayed calm.
"What... children?"
Zee gestured to the scroll.
Marrel stepped closer, read, then looked up without a flicker of guilt.
"The father was a mage. That makes the blood dangerous."
"They were five," Zee said. "And seven."
"And if they burned a village ten years from now?" Marrel asked. "Better to save ten thousand by ending two. Mercy... is knowing what must be done before others do."
Zee stared.
"You don't see it, do you?"
Marrel's tone softened, even kind.
"I see it perfectly. And I forgive you... for not understanding."
Sevi flinched behind him. Her hand brushed the side of her cloak, but she didn't draw.
Zee moved.
No sharp sound. No scream.
Just a step forward. A hand on the priest's shoulder. A small blade beneath the ribs, turned clean.
Marrel gasped once. His eyes widened... then softened. Not in fear ...but in a kind of peace.
"I'll wake in the Light..." he whispered.
Zee lowered him to the floor.
"You'll find nothing there."
Marrel's head tilted, eyes going blank.
Zee stood. The blade disappeared back beneath his coat.
Sevi still hadn't spoken. She stepped toward the scroll, stared at the dried ink.
"He didn't even remember them."
"He didn't need to," Zee said. "That was the problem."
Outside, down the corridor, Torren stood near the cloister gate. He nodded once when Zee passed him.
"Done?"
"Quiet," Zee said. "Like it never happened."
—--
Mira knelt in her solar, trimming a white bloom floating in a bowl of still water. She used thin shears, almost delicate. The flower had no stem... only curved petals and a hollow heart. Every cut was careful... not to beautify, but to guide the shape. She tilted the bowl slightly, watching how the petals drifted and corrected themselves ...like something learning how to move the way she wanted it to.
Vile entered without sound.
Mira did not look up.
"There's a child," she said. "Monastery beyond the southern Elairth woods. Red roof. Quiet place. The boy's name is Ashren."
She lifted the bloom. Watched the droplets fall.
"Bring him to me. No marks. No blood. No noise."
"Why him?" Vile asked.
Mira's smile barely moved. It wasn't warm.
"He'll be useful once all this is done."
She plucked the bloom's edge, just slightly, then muttered... almost to herself:
"I want to shape him."
Then louder:
"Vile... since when do you ask questions? Do as you're told."
Vile's head dipped. She turned to go.
"No failure," Mira said softly.
And the flower in the bowl kept spinning…