Chapter 34: Shadows Close In

The tavern's air grew thick with tension.

Phileo didn't need to turn around to know they were being watched. The steady, measured steps of their pursuers echoed just outside, blending into the hum of Valmere's night. He caught a glimpse of dark-cloaked figures through the tavern's grimy window—too disciplined for common thugs.

The Order had found them.

Evelyne's breath was uneven. "We have to go. Now."

Alsiel, however, only smirked. "Relax, we're just getting started."

Phileo ignored his antics. His mind was already calculating. The back exit was a risk—too predictable. Fighting in a cramped tavern would only draw more attention. That left one option.

"Upstairs," he ordered.

Evelyne hesitated. "What?"

Alsiel arched a brow. "Ah, the classic rooftop escape. Risky, but stylish."

Phileo didn't waste another second. He grabbed Evelyne's wrist and pulled her toward the staircase in the back. Alsiel followed with a lazy stride, though Phileo didn't miss the way his fingers flexed—ready for magic.

Behind them, the tavern doors slammed open.

Shouts rang out.

"There! Get them!"

Phileo didn't look back. They took the steps two at a time, boots thudding against the aged wood. The second floor was empty, lined with dusty rooms that reeked of cheap ale. A single window stood at the end of the hallway, leading to the rooftops.

Phileo moved fast, shoving it open. "Go."

Evelyne didn't argue. She pulled herself up, slipping onto the tiled roof. Alsiel followed with ease, moving like he had done this a hundred times before.

Phileo was the last to climb through just as the door behind them burst open.

A crossbow bolt whizzed past his head.

Phileo ducked, landing hard on the rooftop as another bolt embedded itself into the wooden frame where he had stood moments ago.

"Looks like they really want you dead," Alsiel commented, unimpressed.

Phileo shot him a glare before pulling Evelyne to her feet. Below, the Order's agents were already moving, pushing through the crowded streets, their dark armor glinting under the torchlight.

"We need higher ground," Phileo muttered.

Evelyne nodded, her breath still uneven. "Where?"

Alsiel pointed ahead. "That way. Narrower paths, fewer pursuers."

Phileo didn't argue.

They ran.

---

The rooftops of Valmere were uneven, jagged. Some buildings were close enough to jump across, others forced them to skid down sloped tiles before climbing again. Every step was a gamble.

Evelyne stumbled but caught herself, forcing her legs to keep moving. Phileo was ahead, his movements fluid despite the treacherous terrain. Alsiel, as expected, had the nerve to hum a tune while leaping across a precarious gap.

"They're splitting up," Phileo warned.

Evelyne risked a glance down. The Order's forces had adapted, fanning out below. Some climbed after them, scaling the buildings with alarming speed.

"They're too fast," Evelyne muttered.

Alsiel grinned. "Oh, I can fix that."

He spun, extending a hand toward their pursuers. A flicker of blue light gathered at his fingertips before a blast of wind erupted from his palm, slamming into the climbing agents. They lost their grip, tumbling back onto the streets below.

Evelyne stared. "You—"

"No time for praise, keep running." Alsiel winked.

Phileo led them toward a taller structure at the end of the street—a clock tower. If they could reach it, they might have a chance to lose their pursuers.

But just as they neared the edge of the final rooftop, a figure appeared ahead of them.

A lone man stood on the tower's ledge, bathed in the flickering glow of the city's lights. His dark coat billowed slightly in the wind, and the emblem of the Order gleamed on his shoulder.

Phileo slowed, gray eyes narrowing.

This one was different.

He moved with the confidence of someone who didn't need backup.

"Phileo." The man's voice was calm, almost amused. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

Phileo tensed.

He knew that voice.

And judging by the way Alsiel's smirk faded, so did he.

Evelyne glanced between them. "Who is he?"

Phileo's grip tightened around his sword.

"…An old acquaintance."

The man tilted his head, stepping forward. His presence alone carried weight, authority.

"I was ordered to capture you," he said casually. "But between us, I'd rather see if you've still got it."

Phileo exhaled slowly. He had hoped to avoid a direct confrontation. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

With one smooth motion, he drew his sword.

The man grinned.

"Good."

The fight was inevitable.