The train to Leonthe was slower. Ash didn’t mind. The rhythm of the wheels against the track was good for thinking—and right now, his mind was unraveling threads he hadn’t touched in years.
The owl. The blood moon. And the signature—one he hadn’t seen since his childhood burned to ash.
Sable watched him from the opposite seat. Her legs were crossed, but her body was still. “Are you going to tell me what that was?”
Ash didn’t answer.
She tried again. “That symbol. I saw your face change. That wasn’t just an Order operative, was it?”
Ash finally turned his head. “That owl. It belongs to someone I buried a long time ago.”
“You have family?”
“I had a brother. We were orphans. Grew up in the underground quarters of Aramor. We both took the entrance exam for the Cipher Bureau. I passed. He didn’t.”
Sable’s voice was soft. “And?”
“He disappeared. A week later, the entire testing facility burned. No survivors. His body wasn’t found. I thought he was dead.”
“And now you think he’s alive?”
“I know he is.”
---
Leonthe — Three Days Later
The city of Leonthe was cleaner than Velhurst. Grander. But colder in a strange way—too perfect, too quiet. Like a mask on a corpse.
Ash and Sable blended with the tourists, walking past golden fountains and marble cathedrals. Their destination was a forgotten mansion tucked behind the Chapel District, known as The Veiled Garden.
Ash adjusted his coat collar. “My brother was obsessed with myths. Especially about the Blood Moon Owl. It was a vigilante symbol once—until the Order claimed it.”
“You think he joined them?”
“No,” Ash said. “He became them.”
They approached the gate. It was locked, overgrown with vines.
Sable pulled out a vial of acid and poured it onto the hinges. The gate melted silently.
Inside, the garden was abandoned. Statues covered in moss. A dried fountain. And at the center—a glasshouse.
Ash moved first.
They stepped into the glasshouse. Dust hung thick in the air. But there were signs of life—burned candles, a table set with two teacups, and a chessboard mid-game.
On the far wall, scrawled in black ink:
"Welcome home, brother."
Ash stiffened.
Sable drew her gun. “We’re being watched.”
Ash nodded slowly. “Let them.”
---
Elsewhere — Same Hour
In a hidden chamber beneath the city, a man in a black coat watched the surveillance feed. His hair was silver now, but his eyes were the same shade of gray as Ash’s.
He turned to the robed figure beside him. “He found the garden.”
The figure bowed. “Do we activate the silken veil?”
“Not yet,” said the man. “Let him see what I’ve become.”
---
Back in the Glasshouse
Ash approached the chessboard. He studied the pieces. “This position—it’s one we played as kids.”
Sable stayed near the entrance. “Trap?”
“Always.”
Ash moved a piece.
The walls shimmered.
A door opened in the floor. A spiral staircase led downward.
Sable raised a brow. “Well. Subtle.”
Ash smiled faintly. “He was never one for subtlety.”
They descended.
---
Below the Garden
The staircase opened into a vault. A library—books stacked to the ceiling, maps pinned on every surface, red strings connecting cities.
A man stood at the center.
Tall. Pale. Familiar.
Ash stepped forward. “Hello, Orion.”
The man turned.
“I wondered when you’d come,” he said. “I left the door open.”
“Still dramatic,” Ash said.
“Still predictable,” Orion replied.
They stared at each other for a long time.
Then Orion smiled. “You look older.”
Ash replied, “You look dead.”
Orion chuckled. “Not yet. Though I’ve tried.”
Ash frowned. “Why this? Why the Order?”
“Because they remembered me,” Orion said. “When you left, they found me. They gave me purpose. Power. Something you never did.”
“I didn’t know you were alive.”
“You didn’t look.”
Silence stretched.
Then Orion said, “But it’s not too late. You can join me. We can fix this world together.”
Ash took a slow breath.
And smiled.
“I already am fixing it. One lie at a time.”
He threw a flash crystal.
Light exploded.
Sable fired.
Chaos erupted.
--------
The Silken Veil
Gunfire echoed through the vault.
Ash rolled behind a shelf, pulling Sable with him as books burst into shreds above their heads. Orion moved like a phantom between columns, flanked by two cloaked agents.
“Two guards,” Sable hissed.
“Three,” Ash corrected. “One more near the north wall.”
“How do you know?”
Ash smirked. “I saw his shadow move. He’s nervous.”
Sable raised her pistol. “How do you want to play this?”
“Classic Ash strategy.”
“Which is?”
“Chaos. Misdirection. Exit with flair.”
Ash grabbed a book with a red spine and hurled it over the far shelf. As the agents turned, he sprinted low and fast to the opposite side, using the confusion to throw a small silver sphere—a smoke capsule.
Thick mist flooded the vault.
He dove forward, struck the third hidden guard behind the wall with the hilt of his knife, and caught his falling body.
Then Orion’s voice rang out:
“You always did hide behind tricks, brother.”
Ash emerged from the fog. “And you always relied on muscle. Some things never change.”
The fog parted enough for their eyes to meet again. Between them—ruin.
Sable kicked over a lamp, igniting oil and creating a line of fire between the two factions.
Orion didn’t flinch.
“You can’t stop this, Ash. The Order has already moved. The roses have begun to fall.”
Ash’s expression shifted. “Where?”
Orion didn’t answer. Instead, he pressed a button on his cuff.
The ceiling above began to tremble.
Explosives.
Ash grabbed Sable’s wrist. “Move!”
The two darted back up the spiral staircase as the vault collapsed behind them in a thunder of stone and smoke.
They emerged back into the garden, coughing, eyes wild.
Ash turned once more to the ruined glasshouse.
His brother was gone.
But the game had only just begun.
----------------
The Map of Red Threads
The train back to Virellian City was silent. Ash stared out the window, his eyes unfocused. Smoke and memory drifted through his mind like ghosts.
Sable broke the silence. “You okay?”
Ash didn’t answer.
She shifted in her seat. “You didn’t tell me he was your twin.”
Ash gave her a tired smile. “Would it have changed anything?”
“No. But it explains the way you fight. Same timing. Same patterns.”
Ash leaned back. “We trained together. Fought together. And then... it all burned.”
He took out the scorched fragment of the scroll he had salvaged from the vault. Though the edges were singed, one thing was still visible—
A map.
Marked with red threads.
Each thread pointed to a city. And at the center of them all—an emblem. The Ouroboros wrapped around a tower.
Sable peered over. “Is that…?”
“The Spire of Halrath,” Ash said quietly. “The Order’s central command.”
She drew in a sharp breath. “I thought it was a myth.”
“It was. Until now.”
Ash traced the red lines. “These aren’t just targets. They’re timelines. In five days, all sleeper agents across these cities will activate. One by one.”
Sable shook her head. “We can’t stop them all.”
“No,” Ash said. “But we can cut the head off the serpent.”
She met his eyes. “You mean go to Halrath?”
He nodded. “We find the Spire. We burn it. And we end this.”
---
Later — Safehouse, Virellian City
Elena stared at the map in horror. “You’re telling me Orion is alive? And he’s running this?”
Ash nodded. “He’s changed. Cold. Brilliant. But not invincible.”
“And you want to infiltrate the Spire? That’s suicide.”
Ash’s tone was calm. “So was walking into Velhurst. So was every mission I’ve taken.”
She frowned. “Why now? Why this?”
Ash lowered his gaze. “Because this time… it’s personal.”
Sable folded her arms. “We’ll need backup. Codes. Forged passes. At least two extraction points.”
“I know,” Ash said. “I’ve already made contact.”
At that moment, a knock came at the safehouse door.
Ash opened it.
A man in a navy coat stepped inside. He had a scar over his left eye and the air of someone used to betrayal.
“Elric,” Ash said. “Glad you came.”
Elric nodded. “You said the Order resurfaced. I’m in.”
Elena raised a brow. “Who’s he?”
“Former spymaster,” Ash replied. “And one of the few people I trust to cover my back when the knives come out.”
Elric smirked. “Flatter me more. I missed it.”
---
Midnight – Rooftop
Ash stood alone, the city lights reflecting in his eyes.
He pulled out an old photo from his coat—two boys in worn coats, holding wooden swords, grinning in the sun.
He whispered, “You should’ve stayed dead, Orion. Now I have to bury you again.”
Behind him, Sable approached quietly.
“You know you might not come back from this,” she said.
Ash looked at her. “None of us might.”
She stepped closer. “But we’re going anyway.”
He nodded.
They stood in silence, two shadows under the stars.
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