CHAPTER 80: CH 80: CATCH ME IF YOU CAN - PART 4

Lysera’s pace was steady but purposeful, the low heel of her boots clicking over the cobblestones as she guided the priest through the winding streets toward the plaza where High Priestess Jenna had been attacked.

The midafternoon sun angled between the tiled roofs, throwing gold over the narrow lanes, but Lysera’s attention never wavered from her quiet companion.

The man was courteous, soft-spoken, and quick to offer polite nods to townsfolk who glanced their way—but she’d already felt his magic brush against her once.

That was enough to keep her on edge.

When they reached the site, Lysera paused, scanning the square the way a soldier might scan a battlefield.

The place looked deceptively calm—merchants hawking wares from colorful stalls, children darting around with strings of sugared fruit—but she remembered the blood that had stained the pale paving stones here.

"This is where it happened."

She said evenly.

The priest inclined his head, then stepped forward. His fingers made a subtle pass over the air, threads of magic barely visible to the naked eye.

Lysera watched closely. His method was clean, efficient—no dark ripples, no attempt to conceal what he was doing.

Minutes passed. She almost allowed herself to relax until he straightened and, without looking at her, asked casually,

"Young woman earlier... Kana, was it? Have you known her long?"

The shift inside Lysera was instantaneous—every muscle tightening, eyes sharpening.

"She’s... an acquaintance. But our focus should remain here, don’t you think?"

She said carefully, already redirecting.

The priest gave an agreeable hum, returned to his work... but a few questions later, the topic came back around to Kana.

By the third time he circled back, she was certain this wasn’t idle curiosity. Each mention was deliberate, woven in like a thread through their conversation.

Lysera’s mind ticked quickly through possibilities—she could bait him, see what he wanted.

But the risk was too high. One wrong word could paint a target squarely on Kana’s back.

So she deflected again. And again.

The entire day became a quiet duel of words—him pressing, her sidestepping, both smiling with polite ease as though nothing at all was happening.

When they finally returned to the main police office, Lysera’s shoulders ached from the strain of keeping her composure.

Sergeant Delran stepped forward, her sharp eyes catching Lysera’s for just a second before she addressed the priest.

"I’ll take over from here."

Lysera didn’t linger. The moment the priest was out of her hands, she left the building, the weight in her chest easing with every step toward home.

—

Kana had wasted no time after slipping away from Lysera earlier.

The moment she was out of sight, she cut through side streets and alleys, every step carrying her farther from the weight of the conversation she didn’t want to have.

She didn’t slow until she reached the house.

The key turned in the lock with a muted click—once, twice, and then a third time just to be sure.

She leaned her shoulder against the door for a breath, as if bracing it with her own weight would make the lock stronger.

By the time she crossed the living room, her legs felt heavier than they should have.

She sank onto the couch and pulled the blanket over herself in one quick motion, curling into the smallest space she could make.

The cocoon of warmth was immediate, the faint scent of freshly laundered fabric brushing her nose.

It should have been comforting. It should have been enough to slow her racing pulse.

It wasn’t.

The system’s alert cut through her thoughts like a blade.

[Warning: Immediate danger detected. Target approaching residence.]

Her breath caught, sharp and shallow.

The words hung in her vision for a beat too long, their harsh glow bathing the dim room in a ghostly light.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, the pulse loud enough that it filled her ears.

She pulled the blanket tighter, fingers curling into the edges until her knuckles ached—as if cotton could shield her from whatever was coming.

The alarm pulsed again, sharper, faster—like a heartbeat in panic.

And then, just as suddenly, it stopped.

Kana’s grip slackened.

That was worse. Much worse.

The silence wasn’t relief—it was the kind of quiet that lived before a storm, where even the air felt like it was holding its breath.

The clock on the wall ticked in steady, mocking rhythm. She stared at the front door, waiting for the handle to turn. Waiting for a knock that never came.

Minutes bled together until she couldn’t tell if it had been five or fifteen.

The tension in her shoulders coiled tighter with every second. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.

She threw the blanket aside, the sudden chill prickling her skin, and slipped off the couch.

Her bare feet made no sound on the wooden floor as she padded toward the kitchen. Her gaze swept the room, hunting for something—anything—she could use.

Her eyes landed on a small side table wedged against the wall. Heavy enough to swing. Light enough to lift.

She grabbed it, the wood warm under her palms, and gripped it like a makeshift club.

Her breath came quieter now, controlled, as she crept down the short hallway toward the noise she thought she’d heard earlier.

Rounding the corner, she raised the table high—ready to bring it down—

—and froze.

Irielle stood there, humming softly as though nothing in the world could bother her.

One hand was wrapped around the collar of an unconscious priest, his boots dragging lifelessly against the floorboards. His temple robes were crumpled and smeared with dust, streaked with dried blood at the shoulder.

Kana’s eyes widened.

Recognition hit like ice water—this was the same man who had trailed her through the streets, never letting her out of his sight.

Irielle’s smile was sweet enough to make Kana’s skin crawl.

"Found him lurking."

She said, almost sing-song, giving the elf a small shake as if to prove her point.

Kana lowered the table slowly, her pulse still thundering in her ears. Relief warred with a sharper edge of unease. She wasn’t sure if she felt safer now... or far more exposed.

Kana’s knees buckled the moment she caught sight of Irielle cutting through the chaos toward her.

The sharp tension that had gripped her chest broke all at once, and her body—no longer bound by the frantic urgency to keep moving—gave up on her entirely.

Her legs folded beneath her, and she slid down until she was sitting on the cold stone floor, palms splayed at her sides.

A shaky breath escaped her lips, half a sigh, half a desperate release of everything she had been holding in.

The pounding in her ears began to fade, replaced by the faint, distant hum of the temple corridors.

Irielle let the limp form in her grasp drop to the ground without ceremony, eyes locked on Kana.

In the next instant, she was running—her boots barely touching the ground—until she closed the distance in a heartbeat.

"Kana—"

Her voice carried an edge of alarm as she crouched low, sliding an arm firmly around Kana’s back.

Kana felt the warmth and strength in that hold, steadying her as if the ground itself had been pulled away.

Her breathing was still uneven, but the moment Irielle’s presence enveloped her, the fight-or-flight instinct began to loosen its grip.

For the first time since it all began, she felt safe.