A whimper echoed from a cage in the corner. Matz drew a silver dagger and activated the lamp. A blue sheen mixed with black cage bars. Matz stopped. Each cell door was made of orichalcum. His dagger alone was worth his estate. No duke had the resources for bars made of the rare ore. And not just one cell, Matz thought. Several cells and the manacles in the center of the room ...

Who was supporting his research? And what kind of research required such a prison? The assassin’s heart beat faster with each question.

A low growl came from another cage. Matz stepped closer, the arcane light peeling back the gloom. Tendrils of shadow danced in the shape of a beast. A shade? He had heard stories of animals that had eaten too many dark elementals and changed into magical creatures, but never one as large as a wolf.

A silver dagger flew from Matz’s hand and caught the beast in the throat. The beast recoiled. Hopefully the alchemical properties could prevent the thing from healing long enough for the poison to enter its blood stream—if it had blood.

The beast gasped for air, as if trying to retch the poison out of its system. It wasn’t long before the beast started twitching. Matz threw in two vials of flame jelly for good measure. The sticky liquid clung to the wispy shadows, eating its way through the dark hide.

Another whimper came from the corner. Matz backed away and moved to check the other cell. The light unveiled a child, trying to hide in a blanket half his size. Teary green eyes peeked out.

His black hair was darker than even some viscounts on the council. Matz hadn’t heard of any reports of missing highborn children. Though there was always the possibility he was the result of a night spent with a whore. But if that were the case, wouldn’t his hair be lighter from the commoner blood?

Matz took a step closer to the cell, and the boy flinched, cowering deeper into the worn blanket. This is their idea of meat? Matz needed to get this kid out before it was feeding time.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let the monster hurt you,” Matz said. The boy didn’t move. “Are you okay?” He didn’t respond. Did he not understand me? Had he been taken from another kingdom? The last thing the kingdom of Brurin needed was for one of its own dukes to be responsible for the kidnapping and death of a foreign highborn. Was von Gerson trying to start a war? “What’s your name?” Matz asked. The boy continued to stare, wordless.

“Come here.” Matz repeated in several languages. At the sound of Itrerian, tears streamed more, and he silently obeyed.

Poor kid, Matz thought. If he’s from Itreris, he must have been captured by the rebels and sold as a slave. The last report from the smallest of the island kingdoms that Matz had read said the Marquess had been killed, leaving a rebel commoner on the throne.

Skin clung to leg bone as the boy shuffled closer to the door. Tattered rags hung at his waist and shoulders, thankfully stained only with dirt. The beatings Matz had received as a child on the streets had often left his “clothing” stained with his own blood.

“That’s better.” He did a great job of keeping quiet, but how long could a boy who was hardly five or six keep up such bravery? He stopped at the door.

“Can you understand me?” Matz asked. The boy nodded as the assassin set the lamp down and started to pick the lock. “Good lad. I’m going to open the door now, and you’re going to run up the stairs.” The boy thought for a moment and shook his head no. Why would he resist leaving?

The iron gates. With the latch so high up, there was no way a child could reach.

“Don’t worry. When you get to the top of the stairs, wait for me. There are no bad men upstairs. I need to take care of something first and then I’ll—” Bright light filled the room.

“To what do I owe the honor of this visit from Baron Matz von Lauer, Night Fox of the council?” a nasally voice asked from behind Matz. Two more quick wiggles and the lock snapped open. Matz stood and turned to face the light.

The duke—wearing much better attire than the ratty cloak he’d snuck to his lair with—already had several flames floating around him, ready to torch the intruder. Matz did hate to get blood on such fine clothes, but the duke did owe him a messy death.

The door creaked open. Hopefully the kid has the good sense to hide behind something other than me. Not that there was anything in the room to hide behind.

“Why Fiete, my dear duke,” Matz moved his arms away from his belt, hoping to put von Gerson at ease. “Your darling wife has noticed you sneaking out quite frequently the past year and hired someone to follow you for proof of an affair. After he turned up dead, one of my investigators picked up the observations. Killing him caught my attention.”

The duke sighed and ran a hand through his stringy brown hair. “So sorry to hear about your man. Had I known he was yours, I would have done more to lose him. Perhaps gone to a brothel to appease his curiosity, rather than melting him.”

“If you know who I am, then you must know what I’m here to do. I’ve already taken care of your little circle of mages, and the shade you feed small children to. It wasn’t an impressive weapon if I’m being honest. All that’s left ...” Matz rested the pads of his fingers on a trigger in his empty palm, “is to kill you, and then burn this place down. It seems you’re ready to help me with the last step already.”

“I don’t suppose a man of your reputation and wealth would be open to a bribe?” von Gerson asked.

“I’m terribly sorry, but no. Given the equipment you have in this room, I’m sure your offer would be more than what a lowly duke could procure. Still, I shall have to decline. I don’t suppose a man of your ilk would be a good sport and give me the name of your sponsor? Perhaps even do away with yourself neatly?”

“Of course, it is my duty to obey a higher born … my apologies, I forgot you weren’t born into your status … I meant a higher ranking lap dog.” The vulture-necked man smirked as if he had managed to hurt Matz. His hunching shoulders and lack of proper posture were far more offensive.

“However, it is a bit much to ask. How about a compromise? I can tell you a little secret about the weapon you took care of. That was merely a little side project. As to the weapon ... you just let it out of its cage.”

A hand clung to the assassin’s pant leg. His jaw tightened followed by the rest of his body. He turned his head, careful to move nothing but his neck. The boy’s arm trembled. Still wrapped tightly in the blanket, the boy hid behind Matz, afraid to even peek at the man who stood before them. No fangs, only tears showed on his face. No feral growls reverberated, only quiet sobs as he slowly lost the fight to keep silent. Matz relaxed.

An orb of fire curved away from von Gerson toward the ceiling above them. “Consider that your only warning. Put the thing back in its cage and walk away.”

“Oh, Fiete.” Matz returned his full attention back to the pest in front of him. “We both know you can’t let me leave here alive. You had several opportunities to attempt a cheap shot while I was distracted.” The duke’s confident smile fell into a satisfying frown. “I can’t help but think you are avoiding collateral damage. This child is the only one of your toys left. Am I right?”

The duke’s face contorted. With a wave of his hand, the remaining orbs merged and shot wide to the side. Matz used the opening to throw a dagger. The blade sliced through the air, sailing toward von Gerson’s throat.

The merged orb imploded.

Arcane force tugged air to its center for the bubbling core to consume. The heart of the flames beat once. Torn between forward momentum and the hungry pull, the dagger hung suspended in the air. Again the flaming heart beat plucking the dagger from its path and drawing it in. A third beat yanked the assassin off his feet. Matz hit the ground several steps closer to the pulsing globe.

On a fourth beat, fire and air exploded outwards.

The glassy sphere holding the thatu clattered to the floor with another dagger as the blast spun Matz. The magical sprite jumped around frantically inside, glowing bright red. Matz reached for another dagger, ears ringing. He drew the blade half from its sheath when a surge of lightning slammed into him.

Pain coursed through him. Muscle spasms ejected the blade from his hands as the lightning turned Matz into a puppet, pulled on strings of power in all directions. His lungs struggled to breathe in air. Matz tried to shout for the boy to run, but the paralyzing shock silenced him.

Instead of running, the boy reached down and picked up the magical lamp. In less than a heartbeat, the boy was standing over Matz. The cascade of power, and the pain vanished as the boy stood against von Gerson’s spell.

Matz begged his limbs to move, to step back in front, to pull the boy away. Little more than a coughing gasp escaped his dry throat. Feeling returned with each breath of air that entered Matz, but it wasn’t enough to move.

The arcane energy latched to the boy’s left arm, no longer concealed by the blanket. Runes and glyphs tattooed his skin. The black ink drank the lightning. Von Gerson screamed in terror as he cut off the spell and turned to run. He only managed half a step before the boy crossed the room with a leap and landed on the duke’s leg.

Duke von Gerson screamed as his leg snapped. He started to crawl away, only to be yanked back by his broken leg. The duke kicked at the boy’s face, which didn’t shift him in the slightest. He may as well have kicked a stone statue. The boy lifted Fiete von Gerson up, as if he were no more than a wooden play sword, and swung him headfirst into the stone floor with a sickening crunch.

Matz stared, unable to look away from the carnage as the boy tore at the duke, breaking the corpse’s arm to remove the magical bracelet that had channeled the lightning. He held the bracelet in his left hand until it stopped glowing.

Matz pushed to his knees as the boy ripped at von Gerson’s shirt and took an amulet from around his neck. He promptly lost his balance and fell over again, unable to move properly. After a few moments of holding the amulet, the boy crushed the metal disc in his hand and tossed the twisted mess of bronze aside.

He turned to Matz. A look of frenzied thirst had replaced tears. Rage and madness left a monster in a child’s body. Matz rolled to the side as the boy leapt for him. The roll turned to a tumble and brought him to his feet, legs shaking, orichalcum dagger already in hand.

But the little beast had no interest in Matz. He had already crushed the crystal sphere, releasing the tiny elemental. He snatched the helpless thatu and pressed it to his tattoos. The critter popped in a flash of light, but still the boy pushed the husk against the tattoos harder and harder.

His whole body heaved with each breath. He frantically looked Matz over. The assassin gripped his daggers tighter. Not finding whatever it was he was looking for, the boy roamed around the room. Matz stood, trying his best to not shake as the boy paced.

Finally, he clutched his chest, sputtering for a few moments. When the boy’s gaze met Matz’s, the child looked away in shame. Tears returned. With his right hand, he began to rub at the blood on his left. Rubbing turned to clawing and the boy began to wail.

Matz darted toward the boy, grabbed his blanket from the floor, wrapped it around his left arm, and pulled him close. The assassin struggled to hold the boy, who pushed away with weakening strength.

The boy buried his face into the blanket, muttering something. He repeated it, but the blanket muffled it too much. Matz moved the blanket and the third time was clear, carried through the air on a bellowing cry. Monster.

“Shhhh.” Matz rocked him until wails became weeping. “It’s okay now.” He patted the boy’s head till the weeping became sniffles. “It’s over.” He cradled him until the sniffles became long, deep breaths.

While the fragile body in his arms slept, Matz thought. There must be some in Itreris searching for a legitimate heir to the throne. The nobles wouldn’t allow a commoner to control the country for long. Though if returned, he could become a weapon that would end the hard-fought balance between the Splintered Kingdoms of the archipelago.

Matz considered his orders and the danger the boy posed to the kingdom he swore to protect. If he disobeyed those orders, someone else would carry them out, possibly after torture and experimentation.

The villains were dead. Their conspiracy against the ruling class and kingdom halted. All that remained was their last subject, a beast of unbelievable strength and speed. With a careless trigger, who knew how much damage he could do. With training and the right catalyst, he could even slay an army.

Matz raised the blue-black blade to the boy’s throat. The same blade that the previous Night Fox once held to the throat of a blonde urchin. As a member of a scummy thieves guild, Matz had robbed and murdered. He was once a hopeless wretch, who hadn’t deserved a second chance. He hadn’t deserved to be the next generation assassin for the kingdom. Yet, he had been spared.

This little one had the courage to protect me and the strength to not attack me, even in that … state. Closing his eyes, Matz slid the knife back into its sheath. He carried the boy to a bed in one of the rooms to rest.

I will tell the council that the duke evaded me, buying more time, Matz thought. Once a few days had passed, his report would tell them about the duke’s failed attempts to summon a demon and cage it for experimentation. I’ll tell them the magic circle was destroyed in the fight, banishing the demon back to the Shadow Realm. To eliminate all threats of a resummon, I burned the research with the bodies.

The boy could stay at Matz’s estate for one day without notice. There had to be an orphanage in the slums, one poor enough it couldn’t possibly have magic for the boy to interact with—assuming that was indeed the trigger. With regular donations, Matz could keep track of the boy, and the residents would keep their mouths shut, believing the boy to be just another highborn’s illegitimate child.

He read through the research to learn about the experiments, confirming his suspicions. Without magic for his tattooed runes to feed off, he was nothing but an innocent little boy. Matz gathered up all evidence of the boy and destroyed it, leaving the rest for the investigators to make their own reports.

Matz returned to the room. “You are no monster,” he whispered, watching the soft rise and fall of the boy’s chest.

Bright Realm help me if I’m wrong …