The night in Mad Hat was crueler than the day. When the sky darkened and the sea breeze carried the scent of salt and blood, the city became a jungle with no rules. But that night, there were no drunks or killers roaming. There were only two small figures moving silently.
At the eastern harbor, an old wooden warehouse stood abandoned. Inside, a group of pirates were having a party. Rough music, clinking glasses, and loud laughter mixed with the stench of alcohol and sweat.
Outside, Lazhar stood smoking. His gaze was blank as he looked at Bastien and Arthur.
"Your task tonight is simple. Enter that warehouse. In the back room, there's a work desk with a locked drawer. Get my documents from inside. Don't kill anyone. Don't get caught. Leave no trace."
Arthur frowned. "Why not just beat them all up?"
"Because strength isn't always the way out. You need to become shadows before you can become light."
Bastien said nothing. He tightened the belt holding his throwing knives. Arthur carried ropes and a short axe, modified to stay silent. They both knew their roles. There was no room for mistakes.
They moved.
Through rooftops and narrow alleys, they approached the warehouse. Bastien took the high route, crawling between shingles and wooden beams. Arthur snuck from the side, hiding behind large crates. They had trained for this. But tonight, it was real. A real place, real danger, real risk of death.
A guard sat sleeping in a chair, bottle in hand. Bastien approached quietly and sprayed a sleeping chemical on his face. The man snored deeper, unmoving.
They slipped inside.
The warehouse was chaotic. Some pirates sang with arms around women, others slept in corners with local prostitutes. No one noticed the two kids creeping across the beams, slipping through the shadows. Bastien quickly counted heads, noted weapon placements, exits, and distances. Every detail mattered.
He found the door to the back room. Locked.
With tools he built himself, he picked the lock in two minutes. Arthur stood guard at the door, listening for any sound. They worked like shadows—fast, quiet, focused.
Bastien opened the drawer. Inside were stacks of papers, maps, and a document sealed with a red skull stamp—Butcher Fang's pirate mark.
He tucked it into his vest. Then he saw a map with red marks across West Blue. One of them circled Mad Hat Island.
He memorized it. Then took it too.
"Done?" Arthur whispered.
"Done. Let's go."
They exited through a different route and returned to the meeting point. Atop an old roof across the harbor, Lazhar was already waiting.
He took the document without a word.
"You didn't kill anyone?"
Bastien shook his head.
"Not a single sound?"
Arthur answered, "Too easy, honestly."
Lazhar nodded slowly. There was a faint smile on his face, though his eyes remained sharp.
"You two are getting dangerous."
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**POV Elyndra (Year 1510)**
Cold.
The damp ground pressed against her back. A metallic taste in her mouth. Her back stung from the lashes.
But Elyndra opened her eyes.
She had just been punished for trying to escape. The rusted piece of metal she hid had stabbed a guard. She ran as far as she could, into the alleys, before being caught and beaten unconscious.
Now she was tied up in the basement. Her body ached, but her mind stayed clear.
Bad timing. But I was close.
She didn't cry. Tears had long dried up. What remained were two things: memory and resolve.
She remembered the people who laughed at her. The dirty hands that grabbed her. The faces she would meet again, one day, when she brought her version of justice.
She remembered her mother. Her gentle voice. Warm hands that now existed only in memory. That image faded with time. Only anger and a plan remained.
I won't die here. I won't submit. I will rise. And the world will know who Elyndra Morgrave is.
Darkness took her again. But this time, it felt like shelter. Because in her mind, a small fire had begun to burn. And she swore that fire would never go out.