Selis slumped on a bench near the town square, groaning.

A pair of kids skipped past, laughing. A bard nearby sang a song about heroic knights slaying darkness (he was off-key and definitely drunk). A couple argued over which brand of fertilizer worked best for roses.

Life went on.

And here was Selis. So close, yet as far as ever.

But even if the trail was cold, and even if her investigative methods were . . . not exactly subtle or successful, she wasn't the type to give up.

The second layer of the capital was where the threads began.

And if there was any truth to the rumor that Emerald Blood had been locked away, somewhere behind those pristine golden walls—then Selis would find it. No matter how long it took.

She stood up, wiped the dirt off her face, and whispered to herself, "Alright. Round two. But this time . . . maybe without yelling at bakers."

Somewhere in the city, the truth waited.

And she had just enough crazy left in her to chase it.

Selis stretched her limbs, cracked her knuckles, and took a deep breath. The scent of roasted almonds and perfume mixed in the air—a clear sign she was far from the battlefield now.

But this was its own kind of war. One fought in whispers, half-truths, and gatekeeping nobles with fans too large for their personalities.

She needed a new plan. Her stomach rumbled.

"Fine," she muttered, "food first. Conspiracy second."

She ducked into a nearby café—quaint, with pastel walls and unnecessarily fragile-looking chairs. The menu board read:

"Today's Special: Rose Petal Tart with Sweetroot Drizzle – 5 silver"

Selis blinked. That was oddly specific.

She approached the counter. The barista—a willowy man with an apron that read 'Grounds for Execution'—narrowed his eyes.

"You new?" he asked.

"No. I've just been trapped in a hole for six months," she said flatly.

He nodded like that was totally normal. "Combat unit?"

"Yeah."

She didn't need to hide her identity from the locals. In fact, letting them know she was a vampire hunter would put them more at ease.

Pretending to be someone else might actually raise suspicion—especially if her story didn't hold up and someone decided to call the guards.

After all, vampire hunters were respected—revered even. To the common people, they were humanity's last line of defense against the bloodthirsty threat lurking in the dark.

Most townsfolk would gladly offer them shelter, food, or information, knowing full well that these warriors stood between them and a gruesome fate.

"North barricade?"

"Third wall," she replied.

His eyes widened. "You were there during the breach?!"

She nodded, suddenly feeling the weight of it all again.

He leaned in, voice low. "You saw him? The vampire hunter?"

Lucian. She could still see the moment he cut Varien down, the way the vampire dissolved into ash—those glowing amber eyes blank as stone.

"I saw him," she said. "He was . . . uhm . . . skilled."

"And hot," the barista whispered.

Selis frowned. "What?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, straightening. "Here's your tart."

She took her pastry and sat near the window, eyes scanning the street. From here, she could see the small tower of the local records building and, further down, the bell tower near the guard barracks.

"Think, Selis," she muttered, stabbing the tart with a fork. "If you were a paranoid government hiding idol prisoners, where would you put them?"

Not in the outer rings, where riots and war were still rampant. Not the third layer, either—it had just been breached.

That left the second or the inner sanctum.

But only nobles and high ranking vampire hunters could enter the innermost district. Selis would sooner ride a unicorn backward than be allowed through those gates.

Still, she was close.

She finished her food and slid out the back of the café.

It was time to do some real recon.

She started with the city records building—public enough to be accessible, but old enough to have creaky employees who never updated their filing system.

Selis slipped inside, pretending to be an assistant from the Ministry of Waste Management. It was the one department no one ever questioned.

If there was a way into the inner sanctum of the cathedral, it was through the waste line. Not exactly her ideal point of entry—but at this point, she didn't have the luxury of being picky.

"I'm here to double-check the supply routes," she lied to the front desk clerk, an elderly woman with a monocle and the energy of a passive-aggressive houseplant.

"Third floor. Left wing. Use the creaky stairs. Elevator's still broken—blasted vampire interference," she muttered.

Selis nodded and hurried up, cursing every squeaky floorboard along the way.

Once in the archives, she scanned every scroll, roster, and restricted report she could access.

And while most of it was utter garbage—including an entire folder dedicated to the mayor's obsession with goose population control—she did find one suspicious line:

"Special Convoy Authorized — Route: West Gate → Tower Path → Cathedral Side Wing B

Cargo: Priority Class. 6 Bodies. Sealed."

She quickly memorized the convoy route, shoved the scroll back, and exited like she hadn't just committed light espionage.

Back on the street, Selis pieced it together.

The convoy had traveled through a little-known route that bordered the cathedral walls. If those prisoners were still alive, that Side Wing B might just be where they were.

Unfortunately, she still couldn't get in. The guards there were elite—knights trained not to smile, sneeze, or respond to bribes. She'd tried.

Selis needed another way.

"Looks like the waste line route is my only option," Selis muttered with a heavy sigh, already regretting every life decision that led her to this moment.

Selis waited until twilight deepened, when the streets above were quiet but not yet eerily still.

With a single torch in hand, wrapped tightly in cloth to dampen its glow, she slipped through the narrow alley behind an old bakery whose back wall connected to a disused drainage grate.

It was rusted, half-buried in moss and rat droppings—but just as her map from who knows how long ago had promised, it was still there.