Chapter 10: Shadows in the Workshop

The workshop became Cedric's sanctuary, a place where the weight of his responsibilities felt lighter, and the possibilities felt endless. For weeks, he and his allies worked tirelessly, translating Eleanora's blueprints into tangible prototypes. Lysandra calculated the costs and potential economic impact, Tristan devised strategies to protect their work from sabotage, and Garrett brought the designs to life with his skilled hands. Seraphina, ever the enigma, drifted in and out, offering cryptic advice and sharp insights.

But as their progress grew, so did the sense of unease.

One evening, as Cedric adjusted the gears of a small-scale steam engine, a faint noise echoed through the chamber—a soft scrape, like a boot against stone. He froze, his hand tightening around a wrench.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered.

Garrett, who was hammering a metal plate, paused and frowned. "Hear what?"

Cedric motioned for silence, his eyes scanning the shadows. The workshop was dimly lit, the flickering torchlight casting long, shifting shapes on the walls. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, a faint rustle, like fabric brushing against stone.

"Someone's here," Cedric said, his voice low.

Tristan immediately reached for a dagger, his movements fluid and silent. Lysandra and Garrett exchanged nervous glances, while Seraphina, who had been sketching at the far end of the table, stood and stepped closer to Cedric.

"Stay behind me," Tristan ordered, his eyes narrowing as he moved toward the source of the noise.

Cedric followed, his heart pounding. The workshop was a labyrinth of shelves and worktables, the perfect place for an intruder to hide. As they rounded a corner, a shadow darted across the room, too fast to make out any details.

"Stop!" Tristan barked, lunging forward.

The figure slipped into a narrow passageway, their footsteps echoing as they fled. Tristan gave chase, but the passage was too tight for him to navigate quickly. By the time he reached the other end, the intruder was gone.

"They're gone," Tristan said, his voice tight with frustration.

Cedric clenched his fists, his mind racing. "Who would even know about this place?"

Seraphina's expression was grim. "Someone who's been watching us. Someone who doesn't want us to succeed."

---

The incident left them all on edge. They increased their security measures, posting guards at the workshop's entrance and setting traps for any would-be intruders. But the sense of being watched never fully faded.

A few days later, Cedric found a note tucked into the pages of one of Eleanora's journals. The handwriting was unfamiliar, the words chilling:

*"The past has claws. Be careful where you dig."*

Cedric showed the note to his allies, their faces pale as they read it.

"This is getting dangerous," Lysandra said, her voice trembling slightly. "If someone knows about the workshop, they could destroy everything we've built."

"Or worse," Tristan added, his tone grim. "They could use it against us."

Cedric stared at the note, his mind racing. "We can't stop now. We're too close. But we need to be smarter. More careful."

Seraphina stepped forward, her gaze steady. "Then let's turn the tables. If someone's watching us, let's give them something to see."

---

That night, they set a trap.

Cedric and his allies staged a heated argument in the workshop, their voices loud enough to carry through the stone walls. They pretended to be divided, their alliance crumbling under the weight of their ambitions.

"This is a waste of time!" Cedric shouted, slamming his hand on the table. "We're risking everything for nothing!"

"You're the one who dragged us into this!" Lysandra shot back, her voice sharp.

Garrett and Tristan exchanged uneasy glances, while Seraphina watched from the shadows, her expression unreadable.

As the argument escalated, a faint noise echoed through the chamber—the same soft scrape they had heard before. Cedric's heart raced, but he kept his focus on the performance.

"Fine!" he yelled, throwing up his hands. "If you don't believe in this, then leave! I'll finish it myself!"

The others stormed out, their footsteps echoing as they left the workshop. Cedric waited, his breath held, until he heard the faintest rustle of fabric.

Then he struck.

He spun around, grabbing the intruder by the arm and yanking them into the light. The figure struggled, their face hidden beneath a hood, but Cedric held firm.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice cold.

The intruder stopped struggling, their shoulders slumping in defeat. Slowly, they reached up and pulled back their hood, revealing a face that made Cedric's blood run cold.

It was **Finn**, the quiet boy from House Stone who had helped them with their irrigation project.

"Finn?" Cedric said, his voice filled with disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

Finn's expression was a mix of fear and guilt. "I… I didn't have a choice. They made me do it."

"Who made you do it?" Cedric asked, his grip tightening.

Finn hesitated, then whispered, "The Shadow Council."

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