Deception.

A trio of figures moved through the dimly lit hall, their shadows stretching across the ornate stone walls. Anyone familiar with Vash'kar would have recognized the place immediately—it was the Church of Sonoros. But unlike its usual bustling atmosphere, the grand hall lay eerily quiet. A handful of people lay sprawled across the pews and stone floor, unconscious. A priest was slumped against the altar, his breathing shallow but steady.

The figures moved with purpose, their footsteps echoing softly. One of them, a woman clad in mismatched armor pieces with a twisted elegance, knelt beside an ornate stand. Her fingers glowed faintly as if reaching out with an unseen sense, but she scowled, her concentration broken.

"Have you found it, Ekstra?" The speaker wore a tailored coat with red inlays, his short, dark hair framing a smile that now felt more like a mask than an expression. Krieg's voice, usually smooth, carried an edge of impatience.

Ekstra shook her head, strands of silver hair slipping from beneath her half-mask. "No. Either it's not here, or someone's masking it. This place is drenched in elusive magic."

The third figure, draped in layers of tattered green silk resembling a kimono, moved without a sound. His hands moved in quick, fluid motions, signing messages with practiced ease. His companions responded naturally, their eyes catching the gestures without needing to pause. A soft chime echoed through Ekstra's and Krieg's interfaces, signaling a silent notification.

North wall. Under the tapestry.

Krieg moved with practiced efficiency, his expression calm as Ekstra's fingers traced shimmering runes in the air. The hidden compartment beneath the tapestry clicked open, revealing a small, ornate box adorned with silver and blue inlays. She slipped it into her pouch with a nod, her movements smooth and unhurried.

"Good work, Darkbird." she said smoothly.

Darkbird's masked face remained impassive, his hands moving in a lazy pattern of signs.

Perimeter clear. No movement detected.

Krieg gave a single nod. "Looks like we're ahead of schedule. Let's wrap this up."

Darkbird's movements slowed, his head tilting slightly as if listening to something beyond the room. His vision blurred at the edges, a hazy filter settling over reality, an effect of his heightened insight. His fingers moved in quick, precise signs.

Correction. One approaching entity. 

Krieg's gaze sharpened slightly. He exchanged a glance with Ekstra, who merely raised an eyebrow, her expression more curious than concerned. "Guess we're not alone," she murmured, fingers brushing the pouch at her side.

"Just one?" Krieg asked.

Darkbird nodded. Approaching steadily. No signs of backup.

"Then it shouldn't be an issue," Krieg said evenly. "Let's see who it is."

The soft echo of footsteps reached them, unhurried and steady. A silhouette emerged from the shadows, its outline cutting through the muted light. As the figure drew closer, details came into focus. A silhouette clad in dark armor, its segmented plates shifting with each step. A long scythe rested against his shoulder, its blade a dark, curved crescent that glinted with a dangerous sheen.

Rael's expression remained unreadable, shadows clinging to his features. His dark hair framed sharp eyes, and his posture was deceptively relaxed, a quiet confidence radiating from him.

He stopped just within the halo of moonlight, the scythe resting against his shoulder. "You know," he said, his voice low, "I was just out for a midnight walk. Didn't expect to find guests rummaging through the church."

Krieg remained still, his expression giving nothing away. "And who might you be?" His tone was even, neither welcoming nor hostile. "Didn't expect company."

Rael didn't respond immediately. His grip on the scythe remained loose, the curved blade tracing a thin line of silver along the stone floor. "What were you looking for?" he asked, his tone casual, almost bored.

Krieg's expression remained even, his stance neither defensive nor aggressive. "Just retrieving something unimportant," he said. "A little errand. Nothing to concern yourself with."

Rael moved closer, his footsteps measured and deliberate. Shadows seemed to cling to him, pooling beneath his scythe as if drawn to its edge. His presence tightened the air, and despite their relaxed stances, a subtle tension coiled around Krieg, Ekstra, and Darkbird.

"You know," Rael began, his voice smooth and unhurried, "I was a bit surprised when a random cult popped up out of nowhere. The Order keeps a pretty tight leash on things, and yet here we are—vandalism, strange symbols, random rituals." His eyes remained steady, unblinking. "Not a single casualty, though. Just property damage and public outcry. What sort of cult does that?"

Ekstra's fingers twitched near her pouch, but she didn't move. Darkbird's stance shifted almost imperceptibly, his masked face giving nothing away. Krieg's expression remained neutral, though his jaw tightened just a fraction.

"Then, the Bishop of Vash'kar gets called to the capital," Rael continued, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret. "And what do you know? The Order miraculously receives the cult's location. A bit too convenient, isn't it?"

The silence that followed seemed to stretch, the grand hall of the Order's headquarters swallowing sound. The stained-glass windows cast fractured light across the polished stone, colors shifting over the three figures like a slow tide.

Rael's gaze slid from one to the other, waiting. "And here's the cherry on top. When the cultists were revealed, they weren't just random NPCs or fanatics. No, they were players. And not just any players, I realized they were the same ones from those suspicious guilds that had been leveling up at a breakneck pace. Their activity didn't just slow down—it stopped entirely, as if they'd vanished overnight. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

A subtle shift rippled through the three. Ekstra's casual demeanor thinned, a razor's edge beneath her smirk. Darkbird's fingers brushed against his belt, his movements no longer idle. Krieg's mask of composure slipped, only for an instant, but long enough.

"So," Rael said, his tone still light but weighted with implication, "mind telling me what you're really up to?"

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Krieg's expression hardened, Ekstra's amusement evaporated, and Darkbird's masked face remained unreadable.

A soft chime echoed in their system interfaces, a shared message flashing across their vision: "Compromised. Order forces approaching."

A slow, almost begrudging acknowledgment passed between the three. Krieg's voice, when he spoke, was devoid of pretense. "You're sharp."

Rael let out a low hum of amusement. "Not really. I just have a very capable vice leader."

Ekstra's lips curled into a smirk, the tension in her body shifting to readiness. Krieg's expression remained neutral, but his stance widened, hands at his sides as faint tendrils of frost curled along his fingertips.

Rael's grip tightened on his scythe, the blade dipping slightly as shadows pooled around him. "Leaving so soon?" His voice held a faint mockery, the kind that dug beneath the skin.

Krieg responded with a slow breath, his breath misting in the cool air. "Unfortunately, we're on a schedule."

The shift from calm to chaos was instant. Ekstra's hands moved in a blur, violet runes etching themselves into the air. Magic coalesced into orbs of raw energy, which launched toward Rael in rapid succession. He moved, his body a blur as he Soulstepped to the side, the spells crashing into stone pillars, shattering fragments across the polished floor.

Krieg's hand snapped forward, a spear of lightning lancing through the air. Rael moved, his body twisting as the bolt seared past, its heat grazing his cheek. Another followed, then a third, the air crackling with electric energy. Rael weaved between them, his movements sharp and efficient.

A sudden blur in his peripheral vision, Ekstra hurled a shard of violet crystal, its jagged edges pulsing with dark light. Rael twisted, the crystal whizzing past him and shattering against a stone pillar, where shadows writhed and clawed at the air.

Before he could counter, Darkbird's form shimmered, multiplying into a dozen shadowy copies. The hall filled with shifting figures, each brandishing a glass-like blade. Rael spun away as the illusions closed in, his scythe sweeping through them. Each strike shattered an image, but more surged forward, reforming as if he were cutting through smoke.

"Persistent, aren't you?" Rael muttered, his voice low. He Soulstepped again, appearing behind Ekstra. His scythe arced down, but violet chains shot up to meet him. The metal constructs snapped around his blade, holding it mid-swing. Ekstra's eyes glowed, a smirk playing on her lips as she yanked, the chains pulling him off balance.

Rael's expression remained calm, but his grip tightened. His scythe pulsed with a faint glow, the effect of Abyssal Harvest lingering. With a sharp twist, he broke free of the chains, the spectral links dissolving into mist. He moved forward, quick and precise, forcing Ekstra to abandon her spell and retreat.

Krieg's hand shot up, lightning coiling into a spear. He hurled it, and this time the bolt branched mid-air, forking into three separate strikes. Rael's eyes narrowed, his mind racing. The left strike was a feint—too wide. The right had a slight delay, the crackle of energy just a half-second off. He ducked, the center bolt grazing past his shoulder, searing the air with its heat.

A flash of movement—Darkbird. One of the illusions stepped forward, too solid. Rael's scythe swung in a tight arc, the blade biting into flesh. There was a wet snap, and Darkbird's arm fell away, severed cleanly at the shoulder. Blood sprayed, and the illusionist staggered back, his form flickering as the clones around him wavered. His remaining hand moved, still signing, but the gestures were erratic, strained by pain.

Rael lunged forward, but Ekstra was faster. Violet energy wrapped around Darkbird, yanking him back as she moved. Chains of light looped around him, the magic both a shield and a tether as she dragged him toward the forming portal.

"Time's up," a soft chime rang through the hall. Rael's head snapped up, eyes narrowing as a translucent gate shimmered into existence. Krieg stood before it, his expression unreadable, the lightning in his hand dissipating into harmless sparks.

Ekstra's chains tightened, pulling Darkbird to his feet. His face remained hidden, his movements sluggish, but he didn't resist. Ekstra's body shimmered, and with a swift motion, she pushed Darkbird through the gate before slipping in herself.

Krieg lingered for a heartbeat longer, his gaze meeting Rael's without expression. Then, he turned and stepped into the portal, the gate sealing behind him with a soft hiss.

Silence rushed in, heavy and cold. Rael remained still, his scythe lowered, only the soft drip of blood on stone breaking the stillness.

A procession of heavy footsteps broke the silence. Rael remained still, his scythe resting against his shoulder as the Bishop of Vash'kar and a retinue of armored paladins entered. The Bishop's robes trailed behind him, silver embroidery glinting beneath the fractured light of the stained glass. His expression was a careful mask of authority, though his eyes betrayed a sharper suspicion.

The paladins fanned out, weapons drawn, their movements practiced and disciplined. Rael didn't react, his posture loose, almost casual, but his senses sharpened under the weight of their scrutiny.

The Bishop's voice cut through the silence, heavy with the weight of authority. "What happened here?"

Rael met his gaze steadily. "A mysterious group attacked the church. They broke through the defenses, fought past the guards, and we fought in the end. But they managed to escape through a portal. They took an ornate looking box with them." 

The Bishop's expression remained stoic, though a flicker of recognition crossed his eyes. His grip tightened around his staff, the gilded runes along its length glowing faintly. "A box..." His voice dropped, a murmur of prayer escaping his lips. 

A ripple of unease moved through the paladins. The Bishop did not look at them, his gaze fixed on Rael, unyielding and cold. "And you expect us to take your word for it?" His tone was sharper now, a blade cloaked in reverence. "You, who stand alone amid this desecration?"

Rael did not answer. His silence hung in the air, neither defiant nor submissive.

The Bishop exhaled softly, a sound like the wind through ancient stone. His lips moved in prayer, each word a thread woven into a web of divine magic. Light unfurled from his staff, a delicate wave of gold and white, spreading through the room. Rael felt it brush against his skin, a holy presence, searching and sifting through the remains of the battle.

When the light receded, the Bishop's eyes opened, and the divine glow lingered in his gaze. "You are not the thief." His acknowledgment was devoid of warmth, merely a fact illuminated by the gods' will. His fingers tightened around his staff. "But you remain suspect. The anonymous tip... that was you."

Rael's lack of denial was answer enough. The paladins exchanged wary glances, their weapons lowering just enough to avoid offense but not enough to relinquish suspicion.

The Bishop's expression hardened, the brief touch of divination gone, replaced by ironclad purpose. "Do you understand what they've taken?" His voice dropped, each word a solemn toll. "The box contained the Golden Token of Vash'kar."

Rael's expression remained controlled, but his mind turned. "The Golden Token..."

"With it, they could lay claim to Vash'kar," the Bishop continued, his voice a hymn of judgment. "But to do so, they must perform the Rite of Sovereignty here, within these sacred halls." His gaze burned with the light of faith. "They cannot rule without showing themselves. When they return, the Order will be ready."

Rael's silence deepened. The pieces of the puzzle shifted, refusing to align. Their movements had been too precise, their retreat too clean. Taking the Token only to return into a trap was too careless.

His gaze sharpened. "If their goal was the Rite of Sovereignty, why not prepare for a direct confrontation? They had the advantage of surprise, yet they chose to retreat." His mind moved quickly, the truth unraveling with every thought. "They wanted us to believe they'd come back. But what if they never intended to?"

The Bishop's jaw tightened, his holy visage shadowed by uncertainty. "If they do not return, they cannot use the Token. Its power is bound to the church's blessing."

"Unless they've found a way to circumvent it." Rael's voice was grim. "Or if the Token isn't the real objective. They could use it as leverage, draw attention here while they act elsewhere." His mind raced, recalling the precision of their movements, the way they had bought time instead of seizing it.

The Bishop's expression remained resolute, his faith unyielding. "We will not be swayed by shadows. The Order will prepare. I will send word to the capital." His gaze lingered on Rael, not with respect but with the measured caution of a shepherd watching a wolf. "If you uncover anything, you will bring it to me. Do not mistake your involvement here as a shield from judgment."

Rael inclined his head, his expression as unreadable as stone. "Understood."

As the Bishop turned to issue commands to his paladins, Rael remained still, his mind already weaving plans of his own.