The wind carried with it the salty breath of the desert, and above, the sky burned with hues of molten gold and deep violet. In the city of Dhamarr, such a sky was considered a bad omen.

Caeli knew that well.

She had always possessed an uncanny gift for reading the heavens, an instinct etched into her soul. And the sky never lied.

That very thought made her shiver. Standing still, her yellow eyes fixed on the horizon, Caeli watched as her silver hair danced freely in the wind. Beyond the oasis that shielded Dhamarr from the desert's wrath, a vast ocean of sand stretched endlessly. And above it all, the sky was beginning to bleed, the gold and violet giving way to a slow, ominous red.

“Miss Caeli!” Someone called out.

She turned, her eyes narrowing slightly.

It was Aran, a young apprentice priestess. Unlike most in Dhamarr, Aran's features marked her as foreign: pale skin, chestnut-brown hair, and striking green eyes. She looked out of place in the sun-scorched city, yet her voice carried urgency that pierced the desert air.

“What is it?” Caeli asked, her tone calm but firm.

“It's the oracle...” Aran hesitated, catching her breath. “Something's wrong. He looks ill, and he's murmuring nonsense.”

The omen... Caeli's thoughts flashed back to the bleeding sky.

There was no time to waste.

Without another word, she followed Aran through the winding paths of sunbaked stone, heading toward the heart of Dhamarr, the palace, where the oracle's chamber lay cloaked in silence and shadows.

Dhamarr's palace loomed ahead, a monumental fortress carved from ancient stone, so old and enduring it felt as though it had risen from the desert itself.

Caeli and Aran hurried through its arched halls until they reached a chamber thick with the scent of incense and exotic perfumes. A hush had fallen over the room. Several people stood inside, eyes fixed on the half-drawn velvet curtain behind which the silhouette of an old man could be seen.

“Caeli, you're here. There's something we need to discuss,” a deep voice called from among the onlookers.

It was Altair, the captain of Dhamarr's Winged Platoon. Tall and broad-shouldered, his dark skin and raven-black hair framed piercing gray eyes that reflected even the faintest light. He was a man known for strength and discipline.

“Captain,” Caeli replied, stepping closer. “What's going on? What's happened to the oracle?”

Altair didn't answer at first. Instead, he simply stepped aside, allowing her a clearer view.

Behind the curtain, the oracle sat trembling. His eyes, completely white, stared into nothing, and from them, red tears streamed down his withered cheeks. Caeli's breath caught in her throat.

That was blood. No doubt about it.

Her instincts kicked in. As an assassin, she had seen blood in all its forms, and this was no hallucination.

“What the—?” She muttered, stepping forward.

But Altair extended a hand and stopped her.

“Wait,” he said, his voice low and steady. “The oracle... is in the middle of a revelation.”

The oracle's milky eyes stared into a fixed point, yet it was as if he were looking at all of them at once... and no one at all. His body trembled with agony. Whatever he was seeing, it was tearing his soul apart.

“No... no... the city... my children... everything's on fire... The world... this world is about to end!” The oracle suddenly screamed, his voice cracking under the weight of despair. “Why? Lord Laconte, please guide us... please... show me the way...”

Caeli stood frozen, stunned by the sight before her. No one else moved. Even Altair, always composed, always fearless, looked like a frightened child, helpless in the face of the unknown.

The oracle's face grew paler with each passing second. Then, suddenly, he convulsed and coughed up a mouthful of blood. The red splatter on the floor broke the silence like a thunderclap.

But instead of collapsing, the old man's eyes regained a flicker of awareness. The trance had lifted.

“Oracle!” Caeli and Altair exclaimed in unison as they rushed to him.

But the old man raised a trembling hand, stopping them in their tracks.

“Don't come any closer, child,” he rasped. “Stay back...”

His voice trembled, not with fear, but with conviction, like someone ready to embrace the end.

“Please,” Caeli pleaded, stepping forward despite his warning. “If you fall into another trance... your body won't survive. You’ll die!”

The oracle looked at her with warmth in his gaze, a tender smile forming on his bloodstained lips.

“Oh, my dear child...” he whispered. “If I can save you all... I would gladly give my life.”

“But—”

“I've already made up my mind,” he interrupted gently. “Caeli... I have one last request.”

He coughed again, harsher this time. Blood stained his chin, but he pressed on.

“Go... find Felis. I must entrust him with a mission... a very important one.”

“I...” Caeli hesitated, her heart twisting. Part of her wanted to scream, to shake him, to keep him from slipping away. But deep down, she knew. The oracle had always lived for the people of Dhamarr. This... this was his purpose.

“I'll go,” she finally said, her voice low but resolute. “I'll find Felis. Just... hang in there, old man.”

Caeli left the room in a hurry, her boots echoing through the stone halls. Aran followed close behind, still sobbing quietly. Caeli glanced at her, considering whether to say something, but in the end, she let the girl grieve in silence. Sometimes, words only got in the way.

They walked through a maze of corridors, the palace's silence pressing in around them. After several minutes, it was Aran who finally broke the stillness.

“Miss Caeli...” Her voice was unsteady, still thick with tears. “Do you... know what kind of person Felis is? I've never met him before, but... I've heard stories. Dark ones.”

Caeli didn't answer right away.

She had known Felis since they were children. Even though she was a year older, the two had always been together. They'd chosen the same path, assassins in the shadows of Dhamarr. And yet... even with all their years together, there was something about Felis that remained distant. A part of him that no one could reach. A shadow, lurking just beneath his skin.

So yes... she understood what Aran meant.

“We're close,” Caeli said finally. “But he's... complicated. He usually wanders the outskirts, picking off thugs or chasing trouble. Whatever we find out there, Aran, it won't be pretty. You should probably go back to the oracle.”

“No,” Aran said, her voice firmer now. “I want to go too. I have to get stronger.”

Caeli didn't argue. There was a spark in the girl's eyes now, uncertain but resolute.

And so, the two of them made their way through the winding streets of Dhamarr, leaving the safety of the palace behind. The city's golden domes gave way to broken stone and rusted metal, until they reached the fringes, the outskirts, where lawlessness festered like an open wound.

After several minutes of wandering through the slums, they came upon a narrow alley. From within, faint screams echoed, raw, painful, and unmistakably real.

Caeli narrowed her eyes.

“It's him,” she said quietly. “Felis has a way of... getting information. And it's rarely gentle.”

She turned to Aran.

“Brace yourself. What you see might not be easy to stomach.”

Aran nodded, her expression tense but determined. Without a word, she followed Caeli into the shadows of the alley.

What they found froze Aran in place.

She clutched Caeli's arm, her breath caught in her throat.

In the middle of the alley, four mutilated bodies lay scattered like discarded puppets. Blood pooled across the stone, seeping into the cracks. And at the center of the carnage stood a man, his white skin and black hair stained red, his sinister smile disturbingly serene.

“Caeli, is that you?” He asked, turning his head toward them. His eyes, black as obsidian, seemed to pierce straight through the soul.

Caeli clicked her tongue.

“Tch. How many times do I have to tell you?” She said, her tone deliberately light, trying to ease the tension, especially with Aran holding onto her so tightly. “Murder is supposed to be stealthy and precise. Sometimes I think you'd make a better barbarian... or maybe a butcher.”

Felis shrugged, unbothered. “Difference in style,” he said casually. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

“It's the oracle,” Caeli replied. “The old man's having a revelation, and from the looks of it, not a good one. He wants to assign us a mission.”

“I see.” Felis's gaze drifted past Caeli to the girl clinging behind her. “And the young one must be a castle priestess. My apologies for the spectacle. These gentlemen... owed me a favor. But don't worry, no one important. They won't be missed.”

Caeli gave Aran a soft look, her tone reassuring.

“Aran, don't worry. Felis is... unusual, and yes, a bit on the violent side. But like every assassin, he lives by a code. He may not look it, but he knows where the line is.”

Aran nodded hesitantly, still tense, but trying to steel herself.

“Yeah, yeah, the damn code...” Felis muttered, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, if you'll excuse me, I'd prefer not to show up at the castle looking like I bathed in a battlefield.”

With that, he disappeared down another alley. A few minutes later, he returned, his black hair now damp, his clothes clean and free of blood. Whatever horror had stained him earlier was now neatly tucked away.

“I think I'd rather not ask where you got those clothes,” Caeli said, raising an eyebrow.

“Let's just call it a small loan,” Felis replied with a smirk. “But let's save the banter. We've got a palace to return to.”

The three of them rushed back to the palace. Upon returning to the oracle's chamber, they found him lying on his bed, pale and ghostlike. His presence was barely more than a whisper. Altair and several others still stood vigil around him.

“I brought Felis, just as you asked,” Caeli said.

The old man turned his head with great effort, attempting to sit up. His hands trembled.

“You really overdid it this time, old man,” Felis said bluntly. “Caeli told me you've got a job for us.”

The oracle opened his mouth, struggling to form words. Each syllable seemed to drain what little strength he had left.

“You... must... save... our people...” he rasped. “Altair... please...”

Altair stepped forward, his expression grim.

“The oracle received a vision of the future, one filled with war and the destruction of Dhamarr,” he said. “According to him, it came directly from Lord Laconte... a divine warning, so that we may act before it's too late.”

Felis raised an eyebrow. “You're telling me the old man chats with gods now? And let me guess, he wants us to march into the empire swinging swords and screaming battle cries?”

Altair gave a slow, deliberate nod.

Even Caeli couldn't hide her shock.

“You're serious?” she said. “You want us to attack the empire? That's suicide!”

“We'll be dead before the war even begins,” Felis added. “Sure, we've got guerrilla cells harassing the empire, but a direct assault? Even I think that's madness.”

“The goal isn't to win the war,” Altair clarified. “My squad and I will launch an assault on the empire's western gate. It's a diversion. Felis, while we draw their eyes, you will infiltrate their territory.”

Felis blinked, caught off guard. “Me? Why me?”

“Because we've found him,” Altair said, voice filled with restrained excitement. “We finally know where he is.”

Felis's expression sharpened. He turned toward the oracle. “You mean HIM?”

The oracle met Felis's eyes. The look he gave said everything.

“Wait!” Caeli interrupted. “What about me?”

“You're staying here,” Altair said firmly. “We can't risk sending all of our best. Felis will be enough for this mission.”

Caeli bit her lip, torn. She didn't trust Felis to handle this alone, but she also knew better than to challenge a divine vision.

She glanced at Felis. His eyes gleamed, barely able to contain his excitement.

“And how am I supposed to recognize this mysterious target?” he asked.

“The oracle described him as a boy with white hair and red eyes,” Altair explained. “I doubt there's another like him in the empire.”

The oracle pushed himself upright one final time, fixing his eyes on Felis.

“His... name... is Orin,” he said, voice ragged but clear.

Felis grinned.

“Wait for me, Orin,” he said, voice filled with a dark, eager satisfaction.