It was a false calm, but the city appeared to be at ease. The lanterns were creating feeble shadows on the cobblestones as the capital's streets grew quieter.
Yet, I sensed a tightness in the atmosphere, a feeling like a wire stretched to its breaking point.
The Church had eyes everywhere. Their servants, the inquisitors, the Watchers, their spies they had learned to sense more than footsteps or whispers. They sensed a presence, power, Intent, and lately… the threads I had woven around Eron, the leakage of the demonic resonance, the faint pulse of enhancements—someone had noticed.
Someone was thinking and Someone was suspicious and it was Priest Valther.
He had been quiet for months, ostensibly devoted, pious, unremarkable but beneath that carefully crafted mask was a mind sharp enough
