It’s no longer about locating the remaining children, as the ritual is complete. But with that truth comes a surge of new mysteries, unlocked like hidden doors behind the ones they’ve just opened.

  Rafe finally speaks up for his sister. His ally stays silent, held back by loyalty or fear, or maybe both. But like Daisy, Rafe is trapped by the same curse that took his sister's life as soon as she tried to reveal who ‘S’ was.

  The clues laid out before Finn feel like pieces of a fragmented puzzle:

  — Nine children, sacrificed to the envoys of their God.

  — C and R—Colm and Rafe. The swordsman and the mage who aided the devotees’ escape.

  — The identity of ‘S’ is pivotal.

  Finn keeps circling back to these points, arranging them in his head like a game of logic he can’t afford to lose at the training grounds. Risa is working herself hard with magic drills. Nyx, ever quiet, is deep in another tome, eyes skimming every word with inhuman efficiency.

  But Finn’s mind refuses to settle. ‘S’—who could it be?

  He strolls over to Nyx, leaning lightly against the wall.

  “I’m looking for someone code-named ‘S’. Do you think… who could it be?”

  Nyx doesn’t even pause to think. “Sariah.”

  Finn blinks. “Why Sariah?”

  “Because her name starts with ‘S’.”

  He exhales through his nose. Fair point. Though not convincing at all.

  Sure, he’s thought of her too. But pinning someone as ‘S’ just because of a name? That’s barely enough to speculate, let alone accuse. Narfolk isn’t short on people with names beginning with S.

  “Should I poke further…?” he mutters, but his own train of thought stutters to a halt.

  Right. The investigation is no longer their burden. The ritual is over. The children are gone. The trail has gone cold, and perhaps, so should he.

  “I should be taking them to where Syl is,” he tells himself. “No reason to stay here longer.”

  He’s dug up the cult’s lair, exposed what he could. His part’s done. Time to pass the torch.

  “Forget it. I’ll just tell the others we’re leaving tomorrow.”

  That evening, after they wrap up their training, Risa with her magic drills, Nyx with his daily crash course in common sense, they gather for dinner in the inn’s cramped dining hall.

  “How about the kidnapping case?” Risa asks mid-chew, mouth half-full.

  “We’ve done what we can. Let the knights take over from here,” Finn replies simply.

  She shrugs, satisfied. Nyx offers no opinion.

  “But aren’t you going to say goodbye to the knights?” Risa adds.

  “They’re knee-deep in the investigation now. I’ll leave a note with Perrin. He’ll pass it to Sariah.”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  That night, Finn lies awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The room is quiet, dimly lit by moonlight slipping through the slats of the wooden shutters.

  To his left, Risa is already sound asleep, utterly spent from the day’s exertions.

  To his right, Nyx lies perfectly still beneath his blanket, mimicking the image of slumber, with Cocoa next to him. But Finn knows Nyx never sleeps.

  “Nyx,” he whispers.

  As expected, Nyx opens his eyes immediately.

  “Have you ever fallen asleep?”

  A small pause. “No.”

  “Don’t you get tired? I mean, maybe tiredness isn’t in your vocabulary. But don’t you ever feel bored, just lying there while we’re all asleep?”

  “Why I feel bored?” Nyx asks.

  Finn hesitates. “Because… you’ve nothing to do? It’s quiet and you’ll feel empty.”

  “Why I feel empty?”

  He smiles lightly, conceding. “Fair. Alright, forget it.”

  He shifts topics. “When the cultists took you and the children… they laid you all out on the altar. Did you notice anything strange? Pain? Discomfort? You mentioned it before, but I want to know how you felt.”

  Nyx stares at the ceiling. “Nothing. They put me on a table. Red light surrounds us. The others… disappear. One by one. Left three children.”

  Finn nods slowly. “Right. Thankfully, you’re not an ordinary kid… that’s why you came back unharmed.” He yawns, about to say goodnight—when something clicks.

  If the ritual worked… where are the envoys? Or the predators?

  Wait. Could it be…?

  He sits bolt upright. Nyx blinks at him, his irises swirl faintly in the dark like smoke in a bottle, unreadable.

  What if the cult didn’t intend to sacrifice Nyx at all, but to claim him as the prize of the ritual?

  Cold sweat crawls down Finn’s spine.

  No—let’s not assume the worst just yet. If I were them, given how special and unique Nyx is, I’d offer him as a prized tribute to the God.

  But how would they know who Nyx really is?

  He only revealed his powers once. In the cave.

  It was just them three, the Crocotta… and then a voice. A knight’s voice, shouting for help.

  A woman.

  “Back in the cave,” Finn turns to Nyx. “Can you recognise the voice of the knight who shouted?”

  Without missing a beat, Nyx answers. “Sariah.”

  Finn’s blood runs cold. There it is. The ‘S’.

  She was the only one who talked to Daisy alone when they stayed at Bren’s place!

  He bolts out of bed, snatches up his satchel.

  “Stay here with Risa. I’m going to find Gerard.”

  Wind magic gathers at his feet. In the next second, he’s out the door and sprinting down the moonlit streets.

  From a distance, white smoke curls into the sky from the direction of the prison.

  Knights rush past him, townsfolk peeking out of their homes, drawn by the flickering red glow. The air reeks of burning wood, metal and magic.

  Finn pushes through the crowd, darting between knights as the heat intensifies. The prison is ablaze, flames licking high into the sky.

  At the gates, he spots Gerard. One arm clutches the other, blood dripping to his wrist. He’s barking orders, face lit with firelight, expression unreadable behind a mask of urgency.

  “Gerard!” Finn yells, skidding to a stop. “What happened?”

  Gerard doesn’t answer; he asks back without even looking at him. “Did you figure out who ‘S’ is, too?”

  Finn widens his eyes and replies curtly. “Yes. Did you see her?”

  Gerard pauses, his jaw clenched. “She let the two captives go. And every other prisoner. After that, they torched the whole place.”

  Finn forces down a lump in his throat. They have discovered the truth just moments too late.

  Gerard turns back to his men, Finn follows and helps out without a word.

  The fire rages with an unnatural hunger, devouring everything in its path. Even the smallest flare resists, demanding spell after spell before it surrenders.

  At last, after a gruelling half hour, the flames relent. Not a single civilian home bears a scorch mark.

  Yet the night refuses to rest. The chase begins, knights fanning out with grim resolve to track down those who fled.

  Finn, swept up in the chaos, senses the true end is still out of reach.