Kuro's green eyes met mine, and something sad flickered in their depths. "No. The lord couldn't risk it. Couldn't let anyone else possess that knowledge, that power. After she told him everything..." He paused. "He killed her himself. With his own hands."

The words settled over us like a shroud. I felt my jaw tighten. Even after she'd given him what he wanted, shown him mercy, offered him salvation—he'd murdered her anyway.

"That night," Kuro continued, his voice soft now, almost reverent, "the lord performed the ritual in secret. And when he finally slept, exhausted from the dark work, they came to him. Four angels appeared in his dreams."

"Four?" I interrupted, something cold settling in my chest. "Not five?"

Kuro's ears twitched, but he didn't acknowledge my question. He simply continued, his voice taking on that storytelling cadence again. "Some say the angels were beautiful beyond description. Others claim they were terrible to behold, beings of light so bright they burned to look upon. But all accounts agree on what happened next."

The cat's tail went still. "The angels didn't speak. They simply... gave him the knife. One moment, the lord's hands were empty; the next, the blade rested in his palms. Clear as glass but with a light blue hue, like looking through ocean water. The handle is carved from ancient wood, inlaid with precious jewels. It was beautiful. Breathtaking. And absolutely wrong in every way that mattered."

I felt my hand unconsciously move to my chest.

"Then they spoke," Kuro said, his voice barely above a whisper. "In unison, their voices like a choir, like thunder, like the whisper of wind through a graveyard: 'Let it drink until it shines. Then pierce your heart, and death will never claim you.'"

"Let it drink?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"Blood," Kuro confirmed quietly. "The knife needed to drink blood. Human blood. And only when it glowed bright—when it had drunk its fill—could it grant immortality."

The alley seemed to grow colder around us.

"When the lord woke," Kuro continued, his voice taking on a haunted quality, "the knife was still in his hands. Real. Solid. Waiting. He understood what needed to be done." The cat paused, and I could feel him shudder against my shoulder. "So he began to kill."

"His servants first. Then his guards. Then..." Kuro's voice cracked slightly. "Then his wife. His children. His own family, Fuko. He slaughtered them with his own hands, offering their blood to the blade. And still it wouldn't glow. Still, it demanded more."

I felt sick.

"The entire castle," Kuro whispered. "Everyone within those walls. Nobles, servants, soldiers, cooks, stable boys—everyone. By dawn, the castle ran red with blood, and the lord stood alone among the bodies of everyone he'd ever claimed to love. And finally... finally... the knife began to glow."

The cat's claws dug into my shoulder. "Bright blue. Brilliant. Beautiful. Like a star had been captured in glass. And without hesitation, the lord drove it into his own heart."

"And?" I asked, my throat dry.

"And they say," Kuro said slowly, deliberately, "that same lord still rules to this day. In that same castle. With that same knife buried in his chest. Eternal. Undying." His green eyes met mine. "And still hungry."

The pieces fell into place with sickening clarity. The cages. The circles drawn in blood. The children disappear in the night. All of it to feed a knife that should never have existed, to sustain a life that should have ended a hundred years ago.

"So," I said slowly, "the lord who spoke to angels..."

"Is the same lord who rules this kingdom now?" Kuro finished. "The same monster who slaughtered his entire household for one more breath. And he's still feeding that blade, Fuko. Still sacrificing innocents." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "That's why the children disappear. That's why this kingdom rots from within. Every soul offered to that knife keeps the lord alive for another day, another week, another year."

Silence fell between us. In the distance, I could hear the guards still calling to each other, searching for the escaped prisoner with black hair and red eyes. Searching for me.

"Now do you understand?" Kuro asked quietly. "Why do you need to know this story? Why does the knife matter?"

"You sure know your stuff, rat," I said, pushing away from the wall and resuming my path through the winding alleys.

Kuro's tail lashed in irritation at the nickname. "Of course I do. I wouldn't be working with my master if I slacked off on my research." He hopped down from my shoulder, padding alongside me as we navigated the darkening streets. "Now then, how do you even know it's here? As I said before, it's just a story. A legend. It could all be made up—exaggerated tales told by drunks and fools."

Silence was my only answer. Without breaking stride, I continued forward, my destination clear in my mind even if the path remained shrouded in shadow.

Behind me, I could hear Kuro's irritated huffing as he scrambled to keep up. "Did you hear me? I asked you a question! How do you—" His complaints faded into background noise as I focused on what lay ahead.

We moved through the twisted network of back alleys, each turn bringing us closer to the heart of the kingdom. The buildings gradually changed from run-down hovels to more substantial structures—merchant houses, guild halls, places where money and power concentrated. The air itself felt different here, heavier somehow, as if the weight of the castle's presence pressed down on everything beneath it.

The narrow passages opened wider. The cobblestones became more uniform, better maintained. Fewer puddles of filth, fewer beggars huddled in doorways. We were entering the district where the castle's shadow fell most directly, where its influence was strongest.

And then, finally, the alley opened up completely.

The castle wall loomed before us, massive stones fitted together so precisely that not even a blade could slip between them. The surface was weathered but solid, ancient but unbreakable. In the fading light, the wall seemed less like architecture and more like the edge of the world itself—an insurmountable barrier between the suffering outside and the horrors within.

I stopped, standing still for a moment as I took in the sheer scale of it. This close, the wall dominated everything—blocking out the sky, casting the entire street in perpetual twilight. This was it. The final obstacle was that I could get to the truth.

I reached out and pressed my palm against the cold stone, letting my fingers trace the minute imperfections in the surface. Rough texture. Tiny cracks. Small ledges where mortar had worn away over decades of wind and rain. My mind catalogued each detail, mapping a route upward that didn't yet exist.

"How are you going to get in?" Kuro asked, his voice dripping with skepticism. He'd caught up to me and now stood at my feet, craning his neck to look up at the towering structure. "If you haven't noticed, that wall is almost twenty meters tall." His head swiveled as he peered around the corner, and I followed his gaze to see at least a dozen guards stationed at the main gate. Their armor gleamed in the torchlight, and their hands rested casually on sword hilts. "I doubt that if you ask nicely, they'll let you in. In fact, I don't think—"

I tuned him out. The cat liked to talk—I'd learned that much already. But talk wouldn't get me over this wall. Action would.

I dropped into a crouch, feeling my thigh muscles coil like springs. Energy gathered in my legs, tension building as I prepared my body for what came next. My pants strained against my thighs as the muscles bulged, the worn fabric stretching to its limit. I could feel my veins pressing against my skin, pulsing with each heartbeat, ready to burst with the force I was about to unleash.

"Are you alright—" Kuro had leaped onto my shoulder, concern evident in his voice.

I didn't give him time to finish.

I jumped.

The world blurred. Wind roared past my ears as I rocketed upward, the ground falling away beneath me with terrifying speed. For a breathless moment, I was flying—truly flying—soaring through the air like I'd been shot from a catapult. The wall rushed past in a streak of gray stone.

Halfway up—maybe twelve meters high—gravity began to reassert its claim. My ascent slowed, stopped, and I began to fall.

My hands moved on instinct. I drew both blades from my waist in one fluid motion and drove them into the wall. The metal bit deep into the ancient mortar, grinding between stones until they held firm. My body swung forward, momentum carrying me toward the wall before I caught myself with my feet, finding purchase on the smallest of ledges.

I didn't pause. Couldn't pause. With my blades still embedded in the stone, I coiled my legs again and launched myself upward a second time. The blades tore free with a grinding screech of metal on stone, and I flew the remaining distance to the top of the wall.

My hands caught the edge. I hauled myself up and over, landing in a crouch on the broad walkway that ran along the wall's summit. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, lungs burning from the exertion. Sweat dripped down my face despite the cool evening air.

A rapid, panicked breathing sound came from my right. I turned my head to see Kuro sitting beside me on the wall, his fur standing completely on end. The black cat had gone pure white with shock, his eyes wide as dinner plates, his mouth hanging slightly open.

"Oh?" I said, unable to suppress a slight grin despite my exhaustion. "You made it too." I stood and began dusting off my clothes, checking that nothing had torn during the climb. "Well, cats are good at climbing stuff, I suppose."

My blades went back into their sheaths at my waist with practiced ease. The familiar weight settled against my hips, comforting in its solidity.

Kuro remained frozen, his whole body rigid as a statue. His fur was still standing straight up, making him look twice his normal size. If the situation weren't so serious, it would have been comical.

I walked to the inner edge of the wall and looked down into the castle grounds. My brow furrowed. "Hey, rat," I called back to the still-shocked cat. "I thought you said this place was full of guards?"

The courtyard below stretched out empty and silent. No patrols. No sentries. No signs of life at all. Just cobblestones and shadows, broken only by the occasional torch burning in its bracket. The castle itself loomed at the far end, dark windows staring out like empty eyes.

"Yes," Kuro finally managed to say, his voice shaky as he snapped out of his shock. He padded over to join me at the edge, peering down at the abandoned courtyard. "That should be the case. There should be..." He trailed off, his green eyes scanning the emptiness below. "This doesn't make sense."

I followed his gaze back to the main gate, visible from our elevated position. The dozen guards I'd seen earlier were still there, clustered around the entrance, talking amongst themselves. But beyond that? Nothing. The entire interior of the castle grounds sat deserted.

"How strange," Kuro murmured, more to himself than to me. His tail swished nervously. "The only guards I see are the ones outside the wall, only protecting the gate. But inside? It's like everyone just... vanished."

A cold feeling settled in my stomach. An empty castle courtyard. Guards only at the exits, keeping people out—or perhaps keeping something in. The missing children. The rituals. The knife that demanded blood.

This wasn't strange. This was intentional.

"Something's wrong," I said quietly, my hand moving instinctively to the hilts of my blades.

Kuro looked up at me, and I could see the same realization dawning in his eyes. "You don't think..."

"I think," I said, "that whatever's happening here, they don't want witnesses. They don't need guards inside because no one's supposed to survive long enough to escape."

The castle suddenly seemed less like a fortress and more like a tomb.

I straightened, pulling my blade free and returning it to my waist. Above me, Kuro peered down from the wall's edge, his small silhouette barely visible against the darkening sky.

"How am I supposed to get down?" his voice called down, tinged with irritation and a hint of panic.

I looked up at the cat, then shrugged. "You're a cat. Figure it out."

Without waiting for his response, I turned and surveyed the courtyard. Behind me, I could hear Kuro's indignant yowling, followed by the frantic scrabbling of claws on stone as he began his descent.

The courtyard stretched out before me, vast and empty. Cobblestones lay in neat patterns, interrupted by occasional torch brackets—most burned low or extinguished entirely. The castle loomed ahead, a massive structure of gray stone with narrow windows glowing faintly from within.

I moved quickly through the shadows, my boots silent on the stones. Every few paces, I paused to listen. Nothing. The silence was oppressive, unnatural.

A soft thump announced Kuro's arrival. The cat landed beside me, shaking out his paws.

"Show off," he muttered. "You could have at least waited."

"Where's the fun in that?"

Together, we circled the castle's perimeter, keeping close to the walls. The main entrance—massive wooden doors reinforced with iron—was clearly not an option. I searched for something smaller, a servant's entrance perhaps.

Then I found it. A smaller door set in an alcove, partially hidden by a stone buttress. I tested the handle. Unlocked.

The door opened with a quiet creak. I slipped inside, Kuro darting in behind me. The passage was narrow with rough stone walls—a service corridor. The air carried strange scents: stone, dust, and something metallic that made my instincts scream danger.

"Stay close," I whispered. "And stay quiet."

We followed the corridor as it twisted deeper. Eventually, it opened into what must have been a kitchen—cold stone ovens, scarred wooden tables, hanging pots and pans. But like everything else, it was abandoned.

"This is wrong," Kuro whispered. "Where is everyone?"

An arched doorway led to another passage. This one was wider, the craftsmanship finer. We'd moved from the servants' areas into the castle proper. Tapestries appeared on the walls, torches mounted in decorative brackets.

The hallway stretched before me with high ceilings and paintings covering every wall—portraits, landscapes, religious scenes, all framed in gold leaf. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, illuminating carved moldings and inlaid marble floors. Wealth beyond measure.

"Man really loves his art," Kuro muttered beside me.

I said nothing, my senses alert.

"But with little to no protection?" Kuro continued. "No guards, no servants. Why is this castle so—"

"Empty," I finished.