“…You shouldn’t be here,” I said, as casually as I could with some sternness behind it.

  The girls stepped closer, and I looked over them with protective eyes.

  For a long heartbeat, none of us spoke.

  I exhaled sharply.

  “What were you thinking?” I kept my voice low - not loud enough to alert the guards, but sharp enough that both girls flinched. “You followed me across half the kingdom?”

  Juliet’s chin rose defensively. “We knew you knew.”

  “…I knew?” I repeated to myself, playing innocent for the girls.

  Catherine nodded once, completely serious.

  Right. Of course. Of course I knew.

  I almost laughed - one short bark that would slip out in a ridiculous situation - but I clamped shut my mouth and managed not to.

  A prophet, in the books, real life, and fiction, was supposed to be a repository of knowledge and wisdom.

  Yet even in myths the gods and so-called prophets had blind spots; often enough, they were tricked by clever men and women or simply ran out of knowledge at the exact moment a story demanded it.

  To Catherine and Juliet I was something else entirely: a hinge on which their new world turned, an unshakable anchor of authority. They treated me as though I spoke from a place no one could question.

  “Exactly,” I said. But I simply waited for you to return home on your own terms. I needed to see if you were ready to make the right choices without guidance.”

  They exchanged disappointed looks - caught in a lie they thought was the truth.

  “We thought we failed when you stared at us from the balcony,” Juliet murmured. “We just needed time to find a spot to jump up here.”

  Did they think I saw them instantly the moment I looked down into the city?

  Before I could reply, a soft voice came from behind them:

  “It was my idea.”

  The third figure. Smaller than Catherine, shorter hair, but with a proud posture, and green eyes alight with purpose.

  The new girl.

  She bowed her head. “I wished to prove myself worthy to join your cause. And to hear Father’s decision.”

  I didn’t let my face crack.

  I cleared my throat, taking command of the role.

  “You have courage,” I said softly. “Courage deserves a name."

  I reached out a hand, and she had to bow because she was still far taller than I was, and I placed my hand lightly on her head.

  “You shall be Elizabeth,” I declared. “And you are Aquila. We can go over your role later.”

  Her eyes widened - pride and fear flickering in equal measure.

  “It is an honor,” Elizabeth said.

  I nodded - dignified, wise, and absolutely pretending I had planned any of this. Might as well double down.

  “Now listen carefully. I am here because Entropy has already moved. The previous king - he did not die of illness.” I lowered my voice to a grave hush. “He was killed. And I must protect the Amoons. They are righteous… and they are allies in the fight against The Enemy. But we cannot reveal ourselves yet, or we will be stricken down. In a confrontation, innocence will also be in danger.”

  Total bullshit, but it sounded good.

  The girls leaned closer, hanging on every word.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “I have a sense for danger,” I continued. “And something evil stirs in the coming days.”

  As if summoned by the claim, movement flickered in the corner of my eyes.

  Another cluster of shadows, darker than night, leapt across rooftops like the girls did. They threw a grappling hook onto the balcony below ours, then climbed up the rope attached to it.

  In the darkness, I don’t think they had seen us.

  Catherine’s hand slid to a dagger she had on her side - a fluid, silent motion. Juliet’s eyes sharpened into predatory focus. Elizabeth trembled with excitement rather than fear.

  “Who are they?” Juliet whispered.

  I kept silent. I would seem wiser this way.

  We stalked along the balcony edge, stepping from shadow to shadow, barely making a sound. The balcony above gave us enough vantage to listen - and as the figures paused beneath and snuffed out the torchlight.

  They were efficient, but not superhumanly so.

  Faint voices carried upward.

  “…King Deimos dies tonight.”

  That was all Catherine needed to hear.

  She moved like a blade thrown by a god - silent and precise. Juliet sprinted ahead of her, almost leaping from the rail, catching one assassin by the hair and snapping his neck before he could gasp. Elizabeth followed, smaller but fast, tripping a second man to the ground, where Catherine drove steel into his face.

  Elizabeth seemed as unnaturally strong and fast as the others.

  No screams.

  No warning.

  It was over in heartbeats.

  What the fuck.

  I stared, breath stuck in my throat. They had killed with the same calm thoroughness they showed stacking firewood.

  Juliet wiped her hands on her tunic, dark smears staining the fabric. “Easier than the bandits who took Elizabeth.”

  Bandits?

  The men with the trunk Elizabeth was in. They handled them.

  I didn’t think that meant that they’d kill them.

  A result of my lies.

  They climbed up the balcony with ease.

  “…We protect people,” I said carefully. “But we must never be cruel. We fight when there is no other choice.”

  Catherine’s confidence cracked - only slightly. Juliet stared down at her bloodstained knuckles. Elizabeth’s lip trembled - not from fear, but worry she’d disappointed me.

  I looked at them. “You did well. But we must be better. Stronger than monsters, not like them.”

  All three nodded - chastened but glad.

  “What now, Father?” Elizabeth asked.

  Right. Father.

  I looked over the railing down to the balcony below.

  Dead assassins dressed in black.

  I jumped down there.

  I landed lightly beside the bodies, knees bending into a practiced crouch. The girls dropped after me without hesitation.

  I hoped no one was alerted by this.

  The assassins lay in a heap of black fabric.

  I crouched, nudging one corpse onto its back.

  No insignias. No identification.

  Nothing to trace motive or employer.

  Then the clothes shifted.

  At first, I thought it was a trick of the moonlight. But the longer I stared, the more wrong it became. The fabric shimmered like wet oil… and began to bleed color from black into nauseating rainbows.

  “…Don’t touch anything,” I whispered.

  The flesh beneath the armor was still and human. But the armor itself-

  “What is that?” Juliet breathed.

  The material sagged, drooping like wax under heat. Drops of it slid down the assassin’s chest and splattered onto the stone - splashes of metallic greens and purples that crawled for a moment before going still.

  A memory cut through me.

  A trunk.

  Girls entombed in viscous fluid.

  Iridescent sludge.

  “Catherine,” I said, slowly. “Where did you stab him?”

  She blinked at me. “In the face. Here-”

  She tapped her cheek, near the ear.

  The one place the black fabric didn’t cover.

  Of course.

  Was the goo the defense?

  A liquid armor that hardened, formed shape, and protected the wearer…

  Living material? Almost like slime in anime, but not quite.

  I asked Catherine to give me her knife, and quickly I stabbed a part that hadn’t melted yet, and the dagger couldn’t pierce through, no matter how much strength I put into the strike.

  Huh.

  If the same substance that protected these assassins was used to preserve and transport children like Elizabeth.

  What was the common purpose? Perseverance?

  “What are you thinking?” Catherine asked, sensing the shift in my expression.

  I didn’t answer.

  I stood, wiping my hands clean on nothing.

  “Tonight,” I said, "the Amoons are safe.”

  The goo finished dissolving the assassin’s armor, pooling at our feet. Just the assassins were left in what they had on under the armor: normal clothing.

  I stared at the oily puddle, swirling with every color.

  The three girls watched me in expectant silence.

  Killers waiting for their next command.

  I cleared my throat quietly and adopted the most authoritative posture I could manage - back straight, chin lifted, hands clasped like a man who carried wisdom instead of fear.

  “Now,” I said. “You need to clean up your mess.”

  Juliet blinked. “Our… mess?”

  “Yes,” I gestured to the three dead bodies cooling on the stone. “Dead assassins in the capital’s royal district tend to raise questions. The king shouldn’t know that his life is in danger. His fear would only make The Enemy stronger."

  Catherine nodded once, immediately understanding.

  Elizabeth looked confused, then imitated the nod, trying to appear equally competent.

  “And what about you?” Catherine asked.

  “I will remain and ensure peace,” I said solemnly. “If I need you again… I will find you."

  I prayed they couldn’t hear the tremor of uncertainty under my words.

  Because the truth was:

  I had no idea where they would go.

  And only the faintest idea how they had found me in the first place.

  But they didn’t question me.

  They believed.

  “Dispose of the bodies,” I continued. “Make it silent. Make it clean.”

  Juliet already had a plan forming. “The alleys below connect to the river. We can drop them from the shadows. No one will see.”

  “And the goo?” Elizabeth asked, glancing at the rainbow-stained stone.

  “Oh. If you can scrape some together, take it with you,” I told them.