Thorne and Rhea huddled in the shadows of a small park two tiers below the palace. The park, nestled between narrow streets and fortified buildings, was their designated fallback point—the place they’d agreed to meet if they were separated during the mission. As it turned out, the plan had been necessary.

  Their journey here had been nothing short of harrowing. Each gate leading to the next tier was under lockdown, swarming with city guards. Forced to climb the fortified walls and then find a way down, they had faced an almost impossible task, especially given Rhea’s condition and Thorne’s deepening fatigue.

  Thorne slouched on a weathered wooden bench, every muscle in his body aching as if he’d been run through a meat grinder. He felt wrung out, his body teetering on the edge of collapse. A bone-deep exhaustion gripped him, making even the slightest movement of his limbs a monumental effort. It wasn’t just fatigue—it was a pervasive, soul-sapping weariness that made him want to curl up and let the world fade away.

  Frowning, Thorne replayed the night’s events in his mind. The intensity of the fights, the tension of the escape, and the sheer volume of mental energy he’d expended should have left him tired, yes, but not like this. His high attributes should have allowed him to recover some of his lost energy by now. Something wasn’t right. Curiosity gnawed at him, and he quickly checked his status screen. His breath hitched in his throat when he saw it.

  Stamina: 62/900

  He stared at the numbers, disbelief washing over him. That hadn’t happened before. His stamina points, along with their natural regeneration rate, had always kept him going. But now, his reserves were almost gone. He was running on empty, barely hanging on.

  Rhea shifted beside him, her breathing shallow and uneven. “We should move. They’re not coming,” she murmured, her eyes closed as she leaned heavily against a tree. Even in the dim light, Thorne could see the faint sheen of sweat on her brow and the slow trickle of blood leaking from her side. The wound must have reopened during their harrowing escape. He hadn’t even noticed when she’d taken that hit—everything had been a chaotic blur.

  “Just a little longer,” Thorne whispered, his voice rasping like sandpaper. He knew they were out of time. If they waited too long, he might not be able to move at all. His body was already betraying him, his strength ebbing away with each passing moment. Soon, someone would have to carry him.

  The rustle of leaves behind them snapped both of them to attention. Instinctively, they reached for their weapons, but their hands shook with the effort. Jareth materialized out of the shadows like a wraith, his Stealth skill deactivating as he appeared before them. He surveyed them both with a sharp gaze, taking in their battered and bruised states.

  “You two look like hell,” Jareth said, his voice calm but carrying an undertone of concern.

  “Where the hell were you?” Rhea snapped, wincing as she shifted her weight. “We almost got killed waiting for you!”

  Thorne wanted to agree, but he was too tired to muster the words. He simply watched Jareth, noticing the tight lines etched deeply into his face.

  “Did you complete your assignment?” Thorne asked, his tone even but laced with underlying tension.

  Jareth nodded, but he looked even grimmer. He had never been the picture of happiness, but now he looked worse than usual. “I did, but it took much longer than I anticipated to find the envelope,” he replied, reaching down to touch his leg. “That place was a maze. I had to search several offices before I found the correct one.”

  He grimaced, lifting his right foot slightly. Thorne noticed for the first time that Jareth’s armor was gone, replaced by simple, utilitarian clothing. The left leg of his pants was scorched, the skin beneath red and blistered.

  “His office was trapped,” Jareth continued, his voice heavy with fatigue. “I learned that the hard way. I had to disarm dozens of traps before I could enter, and even then, I didn’t find them all.”

  Rhea’s anger flared again. “So you got the envelope?” she snapped, frustration clear in her voice. “Then why do you look so down? If it’s about the other part of the mission, Thorne took care of it,” Rhea said, pointing to Thorne.

  Jareth nodded in acknowledgment, but the sullen expression on his face didn’t change. He pulled a heavy folder from beneath his cloak and handed it to Rhea. “Read it.”

  Rhea snatched the folder from Jareth, her movements sharp despite her pain. Thorne moved closer, his curiosity piqued despite his weariness. Rhea opened the folder and began flipping through the pages, her eyes widening with every turn.

  “What the hell...?” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. Her hands trembled as she continued to read, her face draining of color. “This... this is insane.”

  Thorne leaned in, his gaze scanning the pages. What he saw made his blood run cold. Detailed information about the Lost Ones filled the pages—names, physical descriptions, possible skills, even disturbingly accurate drawings of their faces. It was a list of almost everyone in the guild.

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  “This is... how did they get all this?” Rhea’s voice shook with disbelief. “They know everything—about our members, our missions... everything.”

  Thorne’s mind raced as he took the folder from Rhea, his fingers brushing against the parchment. He flipped through the pages, recognizing the faces of recruits, senior members, even veterans. Talon’s face stared back at him when he snapped the folder close.

  His stomach churned with a mix of anger and dread. “Our information isn’t in here,” he noted, his voice tight. “That’s why we were chosen for this mission. We’re the only ones who could do this.”

  Jareth nodded, his face a mask of grim resolve. “Most of our year is in here,” he said quietly, pointing to a section of the list. “They’ve documented everyone they could. If this fell into the wrong hands... the Lost Ones would be finished.”

  Rhea looked between them, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. “But how is this even possible? How could they have gathered so much information?”

  Jareth shook his head, his expression dark. “I don’t know,” he admitted, frustration clear in his voice. “But it’s clear someone’s been feeding them information for a long time.”

  Thorne’s mind churned as he considered the implications. His gaze fell on the pocket of his pants, where he had kept the spiral emblem, he had found in Lord’s Valewyn’s office. “I think I know how,” he said, his voice low as he held up the token for the others to see.

  Rhea’s eyes widened in recognition. “So he was a member?” she asked, shocked.

  Thorne shook his head. “No, not a member. But I think he was an employer—someone who used the guild for his own purposes.”

  Jareth took the token from Thorne, examining it closely. “That would explain the information he had,” he murmured, a frown deepening on his face. “But why would he need this much detail? It’s almost as if he was preparing for something...”

  Rhea’s brow furrowed as she tried to piece together the puzzle. “If he was an employer, why would he have this much information on the guild’s members? Wouldn’t he just need details on the people involved in his contracts?”

  Thorne nodded slowly, the pieces beginning to click into place. “He must have been planning something bigger,” he said, his voice thoughtful.

  In the back of his mind, something tickled at him, urging him to make a connection, but his exhausted brain was too foggy to piece it together.

  Jareth’s expression hardened. “Whatever the reason, we’ve just saved the guild from potential destruction. This list could have been catastrophic.”

  Rhea looked at the token in Jareth’s hand, her expression a mix of awe and dread. “We just saved a lot of lives,” she said softly, the realization sinking in. “If that list had gotten out...”

  Thorne nodded, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as the full weight of their mission settled on him. “This was more than just a routine job,” he said, his voice low. “This was about survival—for all of us.”

  Jareth’s gaze shifted to the horizon, his eyes dark with resolve. “We need to get this information back to the guild. They need to know what we’ve uncovered.”

  Rhea’s expression hardened as she looked between them. “And we need to figure out who else might have access to this kind of information,” she added, determination in her voice. “We can’t let this happen again.”

  Thorne took a deep breath, his mind still reeling from the implications of what they had discovered. “The guild will make sure it never happens again.” When Uncle found out what they discovered he would be furious. But there was no time to dwell on it now—they had to move.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said, his voice firm despite his fatigue. “We’ve done what we came here to do.”

  Jareth frowned, his eyes scanning the area. “What about Corwin?” he asked.

  Rhea huffed in frustration. “We haven’t seen him since we entered the palace.”

  Jareth’s frown deepened. “But without him, our mission isn’t complete. He needs to finish his task to earn the perfect score.”

  Rhea’s eyes flashed with anger. “Are you fucking kidding me? We almost died in there, and you’re talking about scores? This isn’t some fucked-up trial! This is real! The longer we wait out in the open, the more likely we are to be discovered! Be thankful you’re alive and forget about scores and shit!”

  Jareth’s expression remained impassive, but her words seemed to sink in. He nodded slowly. “You’re right.”

  Thorne just wanted the night to be over. He needed to get to bed and rest—everything else could wait. While Jareth had been searching the shadows, Thorne had been through hell, and it had left him drained beyond measure.

  The three of them began their descent through the city, moving from tier to tier. Each gate was heavily guarded, forcing them to find alternative routes. They scaled walls, crept through alleyways, and slipped past patrols. It was a grueling journey, made all the more difficult by their injuries and exhaustion.

  At one point, Jareth noticed the state Thorne was in and frowned. “Are you alright?”

  Thorne tried to brush off his concern, but it was clear Jareth wasn’t convinced. Without a word, Jareth moved to support him, placing an arm around Thorne’s shoulders to help him keep moving.

  For once, luck was on their side. They managed to reach the inn without being noticed. The common room was empty, the woman at the front desk fast asleep. They slipped inside, exchanging a few brief words about their plans before heading to their respective rooms.

  Thorne’s room was a sanctuary, the bed looking like a slice of heaven after the night he’d had. He took a step toward it, then another, but his legs felt like they were made of stone. Before he knew what was happening, he collapsed, falling to the floor with a thud. The impact sent pain shooting through his already battered body, but he was too exhausted to even groan.

  He lay there, his muscles aching, his mind clouded with fatigue. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. His body felt like it was shutting down, unable to sustain itself any longer. It was as if his very life force was being drained away, leaving him a hollow shell.

  With desperation he checked his status screen. His heart sank as he saw the numbers.

  Stamina: 0/900

  How...?

  How had he been so careless? How had he been so stupid? How had he let this happen?

  He knew it, and he still fell for the trap.

  He had been poisoned.

  But how? When?

  And then it dawned on him—the blueberry pie. The one he’d eaten after reentering the ballroom, after killing Lord Valewyn. Only someone who knew him well, who knew his weakness for that particular dessert, could have set such a trap.

  Corwin...

  Just as the thought crossed his mind, the door to his room creaked open. Light footsteps entered, and Thorne’s heart skipped a beat. He tried to move, but his body refused to obey. His muscles, his limbs, even his voice—they were all paralyzed, leaving him helpless on the floor.

  He could only watch as Corwin stepped into the room, a twisted smile on his face and a dagger gleaming in his hand.

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