The mayor's office,

  Silverbrook,

  West Province.

  ---

  The mayor's office was quiet, save for the scratch of quill against parchment. Lord Pragas of Silverbrook leaned over his desk, reading through another report filled with bad news: Bandits, Shortages of supplies, and Monster attacks growing more frequent beyond the town borders.

  He sighed, setting the letter aside. There was never enough time, never enough resources.

  The door swung open, revealing a familiar figure of his court mage.

  Saaya entered without knocking. Her cloak trailed behind her, long hair slightly damp from the night air. The flickering candlelight caught the edges of her robes, casting sharp shadows against the floor.

  Pragas pinched the bridge of his nose. Not tonight, please!

  "Saaya, it's late."

  She ignored him, striding forward and dropping a rolled parchment onto his desk. "Another case just came in. Same as last week. Another family slaughtered, another ritual."

  Oh God, would you ever shut up Saaya.

  Pragas exhaled slowly, but he didn’t reach for the parchment. He already knew what it would say. Another horror. Another request for action that he couldn't afford to grant. "And?"

  “And it’s happening again. The same signs, the same symbols. This isn’t random."

  “Mhm, so?” his tone was still indifferent.

  Saaya’s eyes burned with frustration. "So we need to act. The pattern is clear. This isn't random."

  He leaned back, rubbing his temple. "Shit happens. We have over a thousand people to protect. I’ll have an investigation started, and I’ll send word to the capital in the morning. That’s the best I can do." He tapped a folded parchment on his desk. "There. Are you satisfied?"

  She wasn’t. He could see it in the way her hands clenched at her sides.

  "No," she said. "I want a task force. We need men in the Whispering Woods now."

  Pragas stood and walked to the window. Outside, Silverbrook lay quiet, lamplight flickering in the mist. The people were sleeping, unaware of the horrors just outside their abode.

  "You’re asking me to send our best guards into cursed woods, chasing rumors. I can’t do that."

  "Then more people will die."

  "People die every day," he said, unsure if his sister would take it the wrong way. "By God, if I could pick literally any other court mage over you and your incessant nagging."

  A sharp breath from her—anger barely held back. He turned to face her just as she placed a hand over her stomach.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  He looked at her and smacked his tongue. "You’re pregnant, Saaya. You should be keeping your work to a minimum. Go home. I'll order Gregor to bring you home. We’ll talk tomorrow."

  For a moment, he thought she might argue. But instead, she turned sharply and left, her cloak sweeping behind her.

  The door clicked shut.

  Pragas exhaled. "She’s not wrong. I know that. But knowing and acting are two different things."

  But before he could sit, the door opened again.

  A woman entered—graceful, poised, deliberate. Short black hair, dark eyes, a presence that demanded attention. She moved with the confidence of someone who had never been told "no" in her life.

  His half-sister, Lirenne.

  Pragas sighed. "Let me guess. You heard everything."

  A smirk. "Hard not to. Your court mage is... passionate."

  Pragas didn’t reply. He just sat down, reaching for the cold tea on his desk. Lirenne stepped closer, hands resting lightly on the polished wood.

  "You should listen to her, brother."

  "I listen to everyone," Pragas muttered. "That doesn’t mean I can give them what they want."

  Lirenne studied him for a moment, as if debating something.

  Then she looked away.

  Pragas narrowed his eyes. Something was on her mind. Something she wanted to say. "Anything on your mind, dear sister?"

  She looked back at him and simply shook her head.

  "Then why are you here?"

  "I don't know, I just want to check on my dear brother." She smiled innocently. Her sister was one of his only driving forces despite ending up in this thankless job being the mayor of a dead-end town.

  He smiled back, setting the tea aside. "It’s late. Go accompany Saaya in her chamber. Make sure she actually gets some rest."

  Lirenne hesitated, then gave a small nod. "Of course."

  She turned to leave, pausing briefly at the door as if reconsidering. But whatever words she had almost spoken, she kept to herself.

  The door shut behind her.

  Pragas exhaled, leaning back in his chair, staring at the flickering candle.

  Just what in God's name is going on?

  Something was coming, but he just wasn’t sure where yet.

  The candle on his desk flickered, its wax pooling near the base.

  Pragas pushed himself to his feet with a sigh, rolling his shoulders. His limbs felt stiff from too many hours spent hunched over reports. He needed air.

  Moving to the window, he undid the latch and pushed it open. The cool night breeze slipped in, carrying with it the distant murmur of Silverbrook’s streets—the occasional laughter from a late-night tavern, the creak of wagon wheels, the bark of a stray dog.

  Without thinking, he swung a leg over the sill and dropped down onto the balcony below. The landing was heavier than it used to be. He’d been doing this since childhood, back when his father sat in this office, but he wasn’t as small as he used to be.

  He settled onto the stone railing. Pulling a small tin from his pocket, he tapped out a rolled cigarette and struck a match.

  Smoke curled into the night air as he took a slow drag, his gaze drifting over Silverbrook. The town still stirred in places—light spilling from a few windows, voices murmuring in the distance.

  For the first time in hours, he let himself relax.

  His muscles ached as he stretched, rolling his shoulders, flexing his fingers. I should sleep properly one of these days.

  His mind wandered back to Saaya. He knew she was angry. And she had every right to be. She wasn’t wrong about the danger, and despite how he dismissed her tonight, he wasn’t ignoring it.

  "Next week, I’ll visit her and Gregor." He took another slow drag of his cigarette. "I’ll bring something nice. Something for the baby, maybe."

  That was for later.

  For now, he would enjoy the quiet. Moments like these were rare, too rare.

  Then he heard it.

  His peace was shattered in an instant, a commotion from the hallway across his office.